See Emily Weiner.

She's the girl with brown curly hair and bright orange socks. At 8 a.m. Tuesday, she had a grand mal seizure marked by violent muscle contractions and loss of consciousness. By 11 a.m., the 12-year-old was in the Manor Heights Elementary gym, competing in the Special Olympics Challenge Day as best as her tired body would let her.

Look at Dillion Kuhn.

The 9-year-old doesn't walk. He doesn't talk. But this crowd does not measure him by what he cannot do. They applaud him for what he can do. The chant begins: "Go Dillion! Go Dillion! Go Dillion!" He pushes the ball off the ramp, without help, and knocks down several of the bowling pins on the floor.

"I've never seen him do that before. It's just really cool," says Nick Robinson, 9, a third-grader at Manor Heights and one of Dillion's classmates. "It doesn't matter what you can do or what you can't do. You can try your best."

On Tuesday, five children from Frontier Middle School and five from Manor Heights competed in the Special Olympics Challenge Day. All but one competed in wheelchairs.

The day is meant to let children in the intensive life skills programs shine. It's a time for them to feel accomplishment, to participate in sporting events their siblings and classmates play, to show-off, to be kids.

More than that, it's a day for everyone else to learn the lessons these children can teach - if we take time to notice.

Sharlynn Kountz, who has cared for Dillion since he was 9, has noticed. She's seen Dillion light up with such pride when he's able to roll to a toy across the floor.

"To see what they are capable of doing and the joy that brings to them. I think children really can teach adults, and myself, so much more than anyone else in the world," Kountz said.

More importantly, Kountz sees that Dillion's classmates have noticed. This year, when they went on a field trip Dillion couldn't make, a student brought back an extra souvenir for him. Intensive life skills teacher Judy Royer has fostered this acceptance throughout Manor Heights. Her students spend time each day in the regular classroom and each year she invites their classmates to Challenge Day. Royer wants them to cheer and she wants them to cheer loud.

Audrey Chrisman, 13, a cheerleader at Frontier Middle School, comes into Frontier's intensive life skills classroom to read to the students, push their wheelchairs through the halls or just hang out with them. They've taught her they have more in common than they are different.

"They like to have fun and play on the computer. They like to walk around the building. They like to go to the library like other kids do," she said.

Terry Weiner knew Emily's seizure earlier that morning wore out her daughter. Emily didn't smile as much or wasn't as animated as in past Challenge Days. But Terry wanted her daughter to be there anyway - for her peers, for her coaches, for the kids in the audience.

"I think it just teaches them a sense of acceptance of kids that are not the same as they are," Weiner said.

So, watch Dayton Carabajal - or any of these kids for lessons not learned from text books.

He hits the red balloon over the net and the crowd erupts. He responds by wiggling in his wheelchair, waiving his arms and radiating a smile of undeniable joy.

Carbajal, 8, suffers from shaken baby syndrome. His father shook him too hard when he was 2 months old and now he suffers from seizures and cerebral palsy.

But when he plays with his twin brother, Collin, he does it with gusto. He radiates happiness. Everything he does, he does with determination: "To me, he's like any other kid. He can do anything," says his mom, Kay Griswold.

What else has she learned from Dayton? "Take life day by day. I've learned he's very determined. He's determined to walk and to crawl. And we are very determined to help him."