photo by: Courtesy of Kelsi Billings

Kelsi Billings and her son, Draivun Collins, in his Winter Court formalwear.

Kelsi Billings never imagined seeing what she saw Saturday: her son, who had been mercilessly bullied in elementary school, being crowned king of Winter Court at Free State High School.

“It was literally the best night of my life,” she said of Draivun Collins’ night of honor, which she captured on video and rewatches with happy tears.

Hearing the students chant Draivun’s name with affection and enthusiasm — vs. the derision and cruelty of years past — filled her with gratitude and joy, she said. And seeing Draivun, 18, leap in the air and dance when his name was called was every mom’s dream of happiness for her child.

Draivun, like a lot of kids with special needs, had a rough beginning. He didn’t speak for years, and at age 5 or 6 he was finally diagnosed with some developmental disabilities that would complicate his path in life and lead to lots of heartbreak for both him and his mom.

photo by: Courtesy of Kelsi Billings

Draivun Collins as a young child

His grade school years were nightmarish, Billings said. Draivun was ridiculed and even physically tormented by other kids because he was different.

“He would come home and have bruises on him and all kinds of stuff,” she said.

It got to the point, Billings said, that she opted for virtual school and home-school for a period before returning him to a public school classroom in middle school. Seventh and eighth grade saw some improvement, but it was in high school that things really began to look up for Draivun, Billings said.

That’s when he encountered teacher Angela Wilson, whom Billings — “if I’m being honest” — was not crazy about at first. Wilson had some expectations of Draivun that seemed pretty far-fetched, Billings thought, and she initially offered some resistance to Wilson’s plans.

But then she saw how Draivun was beginning to shine under Wilson’s care and know-how, “how things had completely taken a turn for the better — a one-eighty,” and she reassessed her first impressions.

“She’s seen something in him that no other teacher had seen,” Billings said. “She has believed in him. She has seen his ability to be able to become independent, and so he has had a tremendous growth.”

Hand in hand with that, Draivun now has a sense of belonging at school, of being well-liked, she said, and the emotional scars of years past have faded — an outcome for which she thanks Wilson, the school district and another special teacher, Darrell Andrew, who spends extracurricular time with Draivun, taking him out for cheeseburgers and bowling and other excursions.

“If I could give them the entire world, I would,” Billings said. “I just wish that I could give them a huge recognition for who they’ve been and what they’ve done. … It has literally been amazing, especially considering what the very beginning of this whole picture looked like.”

Draivun even worked up the courage to ask a girl to the winter dance, and she said yes.

photo by: Courtesy of Kelsi Billings

Draivun Collins and Lucy Aldritt at Free State High School’s winter dance.

“I was on cloud nine, right?” said Billings, who admits she wasn’t initially real clear on what this whole Winter Court thing was.

“He comes to me and tells me that he’s on court, and I’m naive and don’t know what any of this means, and I’m like ‘What do you mean you’re on court?’ And he was like, ‘I don’t know, I’m on winter court, I don’t have to have a ticket.'”

So when Billings went to the school and asked about the event, staff told her she should be really proud: “He’s in the top eight!”

The top eight, she learned, referred to a group that had been whittled down by staff and students from a larger group to be honored as “winter royalty.”

The next thing she knew, Draivun was on stage acting like a WWE “hype man” for the other nominees, cheering them on, assuming they’d win, “and then his name is read off as the winner, and I turn around, you can see all the students, and they are all just jumping up and down and chanting his name — Draivun! Draivun! Draivun! — It was awesome.”

Wilson, Draivun’s teacher, said her pupil had definitely blossomed in his high school years.

“Initially he didn’t want to do a lot of things,” she said, and he required coaxing to go on field trips and such. “Every year we did a little bit more,” and eventually he began expressing interest in being a manager on the football and basketball teams and successfully applied for those roles.

“That was huge,” Wilson said, “… Now he’s doing all of it and having his best senior year because he’s branched out and he’s actually part of the school; he has a place.”

Billings doesn’t really think of her son as disabled these days. She thinks of him as someone who is “very smart about the things that he loves.” If it’s something he doesn’t love — math, say — well, “that’s where he struggles.”

One thing he really loves is professional wrestling, and you can tell, Billings said, because “he can tell you what happened to wrestlers in the 1980s.”

It has been a good senior year, Draivun agrees, but last week in particular was “great,” he said — sharing in the excitement of Winter Court with his friends. “I was excited. They make me happy.”

photo by: Courtesy of Kelsi Billings

Draivun Collins holds a picture of himself as a child.