World Language Survey

Mobility International USA, the organization with whom I traveled to Costa Rica, is conducting a survey to determine how people with disabilities learn a foreign language.

"National surveys show U.S. high school students with disabilities, while increasing in the numbers enrolled in foreign language courses, still lag behind their non-disabled peers in the percentages who study foreign languages. U.S. students with and without disabilities are close to equal in the percentages completing foreign language courses at the higher education level. However, the data does not explain what languages are being studied, how successful the learning experience is, and what are the barriers and benefits for people with disabilities at all ages. Are you a person with a disability from theUnited States who is interested in taking a survey about foreign language learning and disability? The National Clearinghouse on Disability and Exchange seeks your and other individuals with disabilities input and experiences.

Take a 10-minute Foreign Language survey online here:

I took the survey, and they ask questions about my language interests, how I study languages, and travel. It took about 5-10 minutes. Any help you can give MIUSA would be greatly appreciated. Thanks! For more info about the survey please go to MIUSA's newssite.

Where is the outrage?

The hate crimes against people with disabilities continue. Last month, two teens and 1 young adult were sentenced in the U.K. for the brutal murder for sport of Brent Martin.

Today, it is reported in a Cleveland newspaper that 3 12-year old students, 2 boys and 1 girl, beat their 12 year classmate, who has cerebral palsy.

“A 12-year-old boy who has battled cerebral palsy and seizures his entire life couldn't fight back last week when three students attacked him after a tutoring session.
The sixth-grader felt pain in his groin after the attack and had to have a testicle removed the next day, his mother said.
East Cleveland police are investigating the attack, which happened Jan. 31 at Prospect Elementary School.
Detectives are waiting for a doctor to determine whether the beating
caused the injury, Commander Dan Heglaw said.
Three sixth-graders - two boys and a girl - kicked the 12-year-old in the back and smacked him in the head about 5 p.m., an hour after school security left the building, police said.”

This was not the first time this child was hurt by students.

“The boy is often targeted by other students because of his medical condition, a neurological disorder that impairs people's ability to control their movement and posture. He was struck by another student in November, his mother said. The school implemented a "no-bullying policy" after that attack, she said.”

This beating occurred on school property after a tutoring session. This student has been targeted more than once by his classmates. The paper reports Superintendent Myrna Corley’s response to this latest beating,

“It's an unfortunate situation.”

UNFORTUNATE?!! Better words might be: Outrageous! Will not be tolerated in my school! A hate crime that will be fully prosecuted!

The 3 students have been suspended, but that is not enough.

Where oh where, do 12 year old kids learn that violence and abuse of those that are different than them is acceptable? I just don’t believe that children are born hating. Our society is teaching the dehumanization of people with disabilities. It happens all the time in many, many forms – from our language, to our lack of inclusion, to the lack of coverage and outrage about this physical violence. Violence against with disabilities is a hate crime.

And, I think this boy deserves a fully paid transfer to another school where he will be safe and where he can do what he is supposed to be doing at school - learn.

UPDATE:
Related posts -
Disability Rights: Why it is YOUR problem
Dave
And more violence...
Respect and Disability Advocacy

For parents: my cerebral palsy

I have decided to share a little about my cerebral palsy because I see that parents of young children with CP have so many questions. I had been reluctant to share too much personal information, because I don't want it to detract from what's really important - namely, that people are people, disability is part of human diversity, and that I think loving your child is the most important thing you can do as a parent. Working to reduce the societal barriers to inclusion and respect comes second. I know that the parents whose blogs I check out now and then get that. So, this is for you parents. I hope it helps in some way.

To start - my childhood was a happy one. The fact that kids with disabilities have happy childhoods should not be a surprise, but to some it may be. Here's a study confirming that point.

I have spastic and athetoid quadriplegic cerebral palsy. Over the years, I have met many other people with CP, and one thing is for sure - cerebral palsy is different in each one of us. I have high tone and spasms in my legs and arms, and low tone in my trunk and neck, and athetosis in my arms and hands.

With CP, life is full of complicated decisions. I've learned that every decision has a positive and negative. Every choice has a positive consequence and a negative consequence. Sometimes the consequences are short term, sometimes they are long term. And, often, when making a choice, you just don't know what the consequences will turn out to be. As I now weigh decisions on my class schedule, exercises, rest, and fun activities that challenge me physically, I understand more how difficult it was for my parents to make decisions for me when I was younger.

Therapies:
As a child I had physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy. Mainly, I have had a lot of physical therapy. My physical therapists worked out of Children's Memorial Hospital (and are now at La Rabida Hospital). Their philosophy entails an emphasis on prone work to strengthen core and trunk muscles. I still do physical therapy, and I am still making progress. Yes, you heard that right - at 22 years of age, I am continuing to make progress. While I have worked many hours with professionals, my parents were the key people. A great deal of work was done outside of “therapy time” – work with my parents and also on my own. When I was younger, my parents had exercises and stretches that they did with me as part of a routine - like each time they changed my diaper they would stretch my hips and hamstrings. The biggest part of my work was spending huge amounts of time prone (lying on my stomach). "Prone lifts" - reaching for toys, playing with blocks, pointing to pictures in books, lying prone in my stroller were just a normal part of my day. When I was younger, I spent a great deal of time on my stomach, and had sitting time and standing time as much smaller parts of the day. I played prone with my cars and trucks and played prone in the swimming pool; it was just part of my life. For a time, I even went to school prone. When I played while lying prone, I didn't know I was strengthening my back and trunk muscles and gaining head control. At my house, it's just how we did things. I never had walkers or gait trainers because my therapists felt that I would use my tone to operate those things and that would limit my abilities more than help them. My parents carried me around a lot, brought things over to me, and I explored the world on my stomach. I did have a stander when I was younger.

Today, I’m most comfortable lying on the carpet where I can roll from my back to my stomach and change position on my own. And now, I take time throughout my day to do prone lifts on my own. While I do not like doing the lifts, I notice that when I take time off from them, my trunk and gluteal muscles get much weaker, and I have more trouble sitting and standing and also more pain in my back and legs. When I return to doing the lifts, my muscles get stronger again.

I wish I didn’t have to do so much bodywork – I think my parents and therapists were smart to mesh as much of it as possible into our daily life. But, I really got sick of the formal therapy work. I hated (and still don't like) the time it takes in my life, but the benefits of working on my body are so great. I used to think that I was going to walk - therapists and doctors told me that it was possible. But, it didn't happen. I've realized though that the primary benefit of taking care of my body is not about walking. Walking isn't that important. The real benefits are in helping my body do the best it can for me. With a stronger body and less pain, I can travel (like family vacations here and here and my trip with MIUSA to Costa Rica); go to college; sing; blog; and just do more and have more fun. Without the work, my hips and back would be pulled out of alignment by my spasticity, and that hurts. In the long run, doing therapy takes less time and is less hassle than the alternatives of pain, decreased function, and multiple surgeries. Because of my work, I have good head control and I can sit in my wheelchair for several hours at a time. Those two things are really important to my functioning. Also, because of my work, I can do a standing transfer with the assistance of one (knowledgeable) assistant. This is really important, because without a standing transfer, I would have to be lifted from one place to another - say on and off the toilet. My mother is no longer able to lift me, and without a mechanical lift, my options to go places would be very limited without a standing transfer. Now, my mother (or someone else who is trained) can help me transfer. While I'd rather be totally independent, this assisted transfer is extremely helpful to my daily life. I know that without all my work, I would not be able to do that.

AFOs/Casts/ splints
AFO’s – I have had AFO’s all my life. If made properly (and that usually takes quite a few annoying, time consuming adjustments), I don’t find them uncomfortable. I think it was harder when I was growing than it is now. I do find that the AFO’s get very cold, so I like to have a warmer pad inside the AFO on cold days. (Cold feet increase my spasms.)

For most of my life, I slept in a night body cast for several hours each night. This kept my trunk straight, my hips intact, and my legs abducted (apart). As a young child, I didn’t mind it; as an older child and teen, I hated it because it was very uncomfortable to sleep in that position since my spasticity was so great while I was growing. I could have tolerated it when awake, but sleeping was another story. But, it met the important physical goals that it was designed for; my scoliosis is minimal and my hip sockets are well formed. I have mixed feelings about using the cast.

Splints – I do have a splint that keeps my legs separated that I sometimes use during the day now. I don’t mind using that splint, and I feel the benefit of not having my legs cross.

Botox:
I had botox on my hamstrings, and for me, it didn’t help at all.

Serial casting:
I had serial casting twice. The first time was when I was about 8, and it was successful in lengthening my Achilles Tendon. The casts didn’t hurt; it was just annoying to wear them and to have weekly appointments for months on end.
The second time I had serial casting, I was 16 years old and I had been having pain in my feet with standing. This time the casts helped a bit, but they hurt a lot. My bones had shifted over the years, and casting could only address the muscle and tendon issues. After the casting, I had bone surgery on both feet.

Surgeries:
My experience with surgery (my own and my friends) is that it’s ALWAYS harder than what the surgeon says. Based on my personal experience and that of my friends and acquaintances, I would work and do work very hard to avoid a bone surgery.

I had muscle lengthening surgery when I was 6 years old on my adductor muscles. (These muscles were tight from all the tone pulling my legs into crossing.) Physically, this surgery wasn’t that tough, but I did an intensive physical therapy program afterwards to help me retrain how I used my legs. It all felt time consuming to me, but I know it was very helpful. I made a great deal of progress being able to stand without crossing my legs.

I had my second surgery when I was 16 years old. As I said, my feet were hurting and it was getting hard to put weight on them. This was a major event – rearranging the bones of my feet. It was extremely difficult with long-term pain and an increase in horrible back and leg spasms. I would say it was about a year before the painful spasms of my legs and back reduced back to the pre-surgery level. I went to a pain management clinic for help with the pain, and that was helpful.

Now, I see a major, major benefit of bodywork as avoiding bone surgery – it is so painful, affects the whole body, and takes so much time out of your life. It's mentally very exhausting. (I recall some school aged kids with CP having a major surgery every summer. Yuk!) I would do a lot of bodywork to avoid bone surgery! I've also learned that surgery only straightens out the bone, it doesn't change the CP. So, after the surgery, the CP is still causing the problem that led you to the surgery in the first place.

Also, I wore an eye patch for several months and had 2 surgeries for strabismus (eye muscles).

Respiratory
I had lots of respiratory infections as a baby and young child. They were very debilitating. This changed after about age 7 – I worked with Mary Massery on respiratory exercises. She taught me to take a deep breath, hold it, and then cough. My parents also learned some respiratory physical therapy techniques that were helpful in preventing a cold from turning into a full blown respiratory illness. I also started singing in a choir about that time. My respiratory problems dramatically decreased as my diaphragm got stronger. Now, I still sing, and I know that that is really helpful to my body. Plus, unlike other bodywork, it's fun!

GI
CP affects my GI tract big time. I’ve had trouble with weight gain, severe reflux and vomiting, and constipation. There have been no “magic pills” to solve these problems, but with some effort they are managed to the point of being livable. The severe reflux is one problem I’d really like to get rid of.

Stamina issues
I tire very easily, both mentally and physically. Sitting well, standing well take a lot of cognitive work. My low stamina is a big frustration for me. I need a lot of rest each day. If I don't get it, I really pay the price with increased pain and tightness.

Tone/Spasticity
For me, the high tone itself is somewhat painful. It's more limiting than painful, because I can't move so well and I don't feel like I have good control over my body when it's tight. The effect of the spasticity on my hips and back can be painful - the constant pull (to cross my legs) on my hip can be painful in my hip. I've found heat to be very helpful in reducing both the spasticity and the discomfort. I like to keep my legs warm. I use little heating inserts in my AFOs, and when I am lying prone, I often have a heating pad across my butt or legs. A warm bath also relaxes the tightness. Being cold and shivering increases the tightness. Positioning my legs in a way that separates them while simultaneously applying heat helps. Also, actively using the spasming muscles helps to decrease the spasms; if I stand well and actively use my gluteal and leg muscles, the spasms decrease. But, that's hard - it takes a lot of cognitive work to get it right.

A problem with pain that can be overlooked is that pain, even mild pain, is distracting. It takes my attention away from focusing fully on something else. And that is sometimes a problem, more so than the actual discomfort of the pain.

Technology
Technology is so very important for kids with cerebral palsy. I cannot handwrite at all, but I can use my computer to send emails, write papers, etc. My Permobil wheelchair lets me change my position on my own - sitting, standing and lying down. Without the Permobil chair, I'd have pressure sores, a lot more pain, and much less function.

School
This is a big issue. I've written a little about my school experiences here and here. Between my sisters and me, we've tried full-time public school, part-time public school, full and part-time private school, and homeschooling. We did different things at different times. My parents came to view the school system as one tool of many in their toolbox. They learned that it wasn't always in my best interest to do things a certain way, just because things had always been done that way. I've found the low expectations and the challenges of finding capable assistants to be the biggest hurdles in the school system. Interestingly, and wonderfully, I am finding college easier to navigate than k - 12.
I think that it is extremely important to not have one's time filled with bodywork and schoolwork and no time for fun. That's part of the tricky balancing act that families have to figure out.

Pursuing strengths
I see it as so very important for kids with CP to pursue their strengths. It is very easy to focus on everything that needs improvement. But, for me, my strengths are what helped me fit in with other kids, what gave me confidence, what gave me fun, and what now may help me to be employed or have fun as an adult. I am so glad that my parents helped me to have singing lessons and choir experiences. I am glad I didn't focus on handwriting in elementary school. It was a good decision to take higher level Spanish classes in highschool and skip some math classes; my strengths are auditory and my learning disability is visual.

Parents/Making decisions
There are things I wish my parents had done differently. For example, I wish I had homeschooled more in elementary school. I think it would have been less stressful to me, and more efficient for my time. I think school took up too much of my time, particularly when the way things were done didn't match my learning needs and simply wasted my energy. I wish my parents had intervened sooner with one of my problem school aides. And, I wonder how life would have been with less therapy time. There were plenty of times that I hated going to therapy.

I am very grateful that my parents were able to go against the culture or the "way things were always done". I am so glad they were strong advocates for me. They tell me that they learned that over time. They didn't start out that way.

I also now appreciate how very difficult decisions for me really were. As I have taken over more and more responsibility for these decisions, I realize that there are not easy answers. My parents did the best they could. And, I have learned from them to not dwell on the mistakes or the things I wish I had done differently, but to keep learning and move on. I think if my parents were wracked with guilt and fear about making mistakes, I'd pick up that attitude also. And that attitude could paralyze future decision making.

This post was a joint effort with my mom. I hope it is helpful to parents. Again, these are my personal experiences; everybody is different. Let me know if you have any other questions.

So, my summary points - love your child, promote strengths, do the best you can with the complicated decisions, think "outside the box", and don't be too hard on yourself.

It's very important that we all work to change society so that those of us with cerebral palsy can be full members. Support the ADA Restoration Act, model inclusive attitudes and advocate for a better world.

UPDATE: My parents and I continue to think of many other things that could be helpful to a family with a young child. Here are a couple more.
-During the years when I rebelled against formal therapy, (in addition to meshing the work into my day like I described above), my parents tried to make therapy fun. I had books read to me or played guessing games or various things to help me "enjoy" the time more. It didn't really work, but it did help. Also, when I was about 4 years old, something that worked was a "reward" for "working hard" in therapy. I got to do an art project that was only done after a session during which I cooperated (so the reward was not based on "what" I did, but just that I gave a reasonable effort). My mom had a stash of paper plates that I decorated with glitter, paint, felt, whatever, and then she put them on display on the wall. Whenever someone came over, they would ask (with some prompting by my parents) about all the art on the wall. I would feel proud of my accomplishments. My parents never wanted to punish me for not cooperating with something that was inherently unpleasant, so they just used rewards or lack of rewards. And, I did get a time out if I would bite the therapist or do something really nasty. ; ) No art project on those days!
But, I do think the best way to work on my body was just having it be part of my day.
-Also, my parents came to learn that no "expert", in health care or education, was more expert than they were. They used "experts" like consultants, weighing what they would say against their own experience with me and against their gut feel. (And, by the way, they didn't get the hang of this until after they were misled a few times.) They also learned to be very creative as they weighed different choices, starting with what their goals were for me and then deciding how to use others' advice.

Blogging Against Aversives

Is it OK to teach a child “appropriate behavior” with these types of punishment – ammonia sprayed up the nose, water shot in the face, forced to eat jalapeno peppers, or electric shock? You’d probably say NO WAY!

But what if the child has severe behavior problems, say swears excessively, bangs her head against the wall, bites himself or others, or is otherwise violent towards himself? How bad would a behavior have to be to warrant such violence towards the child? And who decides?

Some people advocate that there are children who are so difficult that they warrant these extreme consequences. Here’s a New York Times article from 1997 discussing one family’s experience with a school, now called the Judge Rotenberg Center, that administered the consequences listed above. Here is the 1999 obituary of the same young man, who, after his parents pulled him out of the school, later lived successfully with support in an independent living center, but died from infections resulting from harming himself.

A yearlong investigation of the Judge Rotenberg Center is documented in School of Shock: Inside the taxpayer-funded program that treats American kids like enemy combatants and is a must read. It has resulted in hearings to look into the school and the regulation of aversive conditioning.

So, back to the question – is it sometimes OK to do horrible things to children? If the situation is really dire? Is it OK to hurt a child if it stops a bigger hurt? I say no. We need resources, funding, research, respect and real support for these children and their families. Support and help that starts at a very young age.

Not violence. Never violence. There must a better way. These human beings deserve a better way.

For much more on this topic, check out the links at Uppity Disability.

Personal experience with aversive treatment from Amanda at Ballastexistenz. Heartwrenching to read. Thanks to Kay for the link.


UPDATE: I am turning off comments on this post. I do not have time to moderate a respectful discussion, and I do not want to risk having the comments deteriorate into meanness or nonsense that takes attention away from this serious issue.

Disability as Culture

Check out Cross-Cultural Communiques from Andrea’s Buzzing About. When I was writing an essay about my educational experiences for my English class, I noted the tremendous difficulty that able-bodied people had in understanding my experiences when they were so different than their own. Andrea broadens the discussion to look at cross-cultural relationships. She shares a list by an unknown author designed to address "…the assumptions we mentally trip over when working with people from other national, religious or ethnic cultures." Andrea notes, "I rather doubt that the author(s) considered how broad the cultural spectrum can be."

The first one on the list is "What seems to be logical, sensible, important, and reasonable to a person in one culture may seem stupid, irrational, and unimportant to an outsider." All twelve make you think.

Understanding the less common perspective: A Thanksgiving reflection

This semester in my English course, my classmates and I were asked to write an essay about education. I decided to write about my childhood educational experiences because I thought they needed to be heard. When my English teacher and my classmates read my rough drafts, they did not readily grasp the main points that I was making and they totally missed some of the subtler points. Granted, they were unpolished drafts, but the reality was that my childhood educational experience may have taken place on another planet for all that they could relate to it. I ended up making many changes to the paper, changing words and fleshing out concepts so that my classmates could better understand the school experiences that I and many other children with disabilities had. To focus on a more basic message I ended up leaving out some of the complexities, for example: juggling health needs and school; countercultural decisions that my parents and I made in an attempt to counter the mainstream paradigm; and my atypical high school choices.

My experience with this essay left me thinking. How do you best convey experiences of living with a disability that are so alien to so many people? Where do you start? How do you convey challenges that people have never even considered? (Kay and Ruth recently shared recent experiences that most people couldn’t even fathom.) How can people relate to you and support you when they are so unfamiliar with your experience? I realized after I wrote my paper how grateful I am to have the support of the blogging community, many of whom share personally their own journeys through different, unfamiliar, and exotic lands. I'm so grateful that I have people that know what I'm talking about and are not surprised when I bring up certain issues in my life. Psychologically, it's really helpful to realize that there are, in fact, a large number of people who have atypical life experiences and that we can and do support and encourage each other. This experience of trying to convey my world to people who could not easily envision it led me to an even greater appreciation for Amanda Baggs and her tireless efforts to share her perspective in a society that lives under such a different paradigm.

So on this Thanksgiving, I thank you fellow bloggers. I thank you for all you've taught me and all you've done to support me. I thank you for listening to my perspective and enriching me with yours. And I thank you readers for making the effort to understand my perspective.

Here’s the final version of my English essay:

“We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these rights are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” Familiar words to all Americans; and within these words, most Americans see the value of education, believing that public education is a key component of the individual pursuit of “Happiness”, a full and rewarding life. And likely, most of us agree with Thomas Jefferson’s 1806 assertion in his 6th Annual Message that the country as well as the individual is improved when its citizens are educated, that the benefit of education is not just to the individual, but also to the entire society, which is strengthened and enriched by educated members.

One group of Americans left out of this fundamental right is children with medical conditions or learning differences. The current educational system is designed for the student who can sit at a desk for several hours at a time; learn visually from the written word; follow directions quickly, easily, and compliantly; and conform and cooperate with the demands of a system based on multiple choice testing as the means of assessing progress. The American educational system is a one-size-fits-all structure that doesn’t fit the large number of students that are unable conform to it.

So what happens to these children who don’t fit the system? The children who can’t sit still, the children who learn best from hearing rather than seeing? The children who have difficulty understanding directions? The children who can’t write for themselves? The children who learn best with movement and physical stimulation? The children who are slower or faster in learning a skill than their same-aged peers?

These children are disrespected and left along the wayside. They are labeled - “different”, “uncooperative”, “special”, “hyperactive”, “slow”, to name a few. Expectations for these children are lowered, dramatically lowered. In our society, there are two ways of educating children with learning differences: in a classroom exclusively for children with disabilities or within a classroom with same-aged peers. Because of the pervasive disrespect and low expectations for these children, neither setting is designed for success. Often the curriculum is weak, the support non-existent or poor, the staff undertrained, and the resulting social isolation is vast.

Having cerebral palsy, I was one of the children labeled “different”. I have traveled through a dark side of public education that may surprise, and would hopefully appall, many Americans. Over the last year, I have interviewed young adults with disabilities from many school systems who have shared similar dark educational journeys.

Ironically, my very first school experience was an ideal experience, a model for the education of young children. My parents had refused to let me, as a 3 year old preschooler, travel 1 ½ hours each way by bus to be isolated in a building that only had students with physical weaknesses like mine. They recognized that while my physical abilities were quite limited, my language skills, love of music, interest in books, and desire to learn were age appropriate. Luckily, a local preschool teacher invited me into her classroom for the second half of the schoolyear, while a neighbor physically lifted me and supported my full participation. Not until much later would my parents and I realize that this ideal educational experience based on high expectations, respect for me and my learning style, and full membership amongst my peers was a fortuitous rarity that would not be easily replicated in my grade school years.

In grade school, my parents pushed for me to be in a classroom with my same-aged peers, but like other children with disabilities in the regular classroom, it was a forced fit. The biggest hurdle that I faced every single day was the hurdle of low expectations. Many staff took one look at me and made assumptions that I couldn’t learn, that it would be a chore to teach me, that it didn’t really matter if I learned, and that I was not now nor ever going to be a contributing member of the classroom or society. I felt these low expectations when teachers didn’t expect me to have an answer and would not call on me in class, when an inaccessible location was chosen for a field trip and it was okay if I didn’t go, when it was acceptable that my schoolbook audiotapes were not available at the start of a unit, and when my large print copies were not ready on time.

My stories are echoed in the stories of the people I have interviewed. Whether in a disability classroom or a same-aged classroom, each person experienced the trauma of low expectations. Students in disability classrooms noted that academics were not considered a priority, that they did not have homework, and that their schoolday was full of wasted time. Students in the same-aged classroom recall the discomfort of the forced fit into that classroom – the medications to allow them to sit still, the assumptions that they were faking their need for extended time or personalized directions, having to learn math with worksheets rather than by handling concrete objects. A woman who is blind recounted the terror of never knowing when she would be hit by a basketball in gym class. (The sound of a basketball still makes her cringe some 20 years later.) Whatever their classroom, most can still replicate the baby-talk voices of staff members. Students who took the “special bus” recalled that no educator seemed to care that each day they would miss academic instruction due to a late arrival and early dismissal designed to make the bus driver’s schedule easier.

For many, a seismic manifestation of the disservice of low expectations came in the form of teachers’ assistants. Assistants to support students with disabilities in the classroom sounds, in theory, like a good idea. Reality often shows otherwise. Using a wheelchair, being unable to handwrite, and being a weak visual learner, I was assigned an assistant to support me throughout grade school. More often than not, this was a person who had no more than a high school education and was in this very low paying job temporarily until a better job came along. Typically, my assistant had little to no understanding of child development and placed no value on his or her own education. Yet, these people were placed in charge of my day-to-day learning, while the classroom teachers looked after the needs of the other 25 students. I had a few positive assistant experiences, but many more negative ones, including an assistant who was absent 50% of the time; an assistant who wrote “Abe” rather than “Abraham” in my dictated story about President Lincoln because she could not spell “Abraham” and did not think of using a dictionary or asking the teacher; an assistant who would take me with her while she socialized with the janitors; several assistants who did not know school policies or equipment; an assistant who forgot to put my seatbelt on, then tried to push my wheelchair forward down the stairs (fortunately stopped by the scream of my observing mother); assistants who brought their own troubles and stress to the workplace and my day; and an assistant who swore at me and abandoned me in the bathroom because he didn’t like my attitude.

Like me, others interviewed told of low expectations manifest through the revolving door of incapable and, occasionally, even abusive, assistants. A number of people recalled that recess was nothing more than a time for assistants to gather, students at their side, for a chatting break while all the other kids played. Former students spoke of the high absenteeism rate for assistants, and of assistants who yelled at and scolded them. One man shared that an assistant kissed him in the seclusion of an elevator.

When so many actions of the educational system send the message that you have little potential, it’s hard for a child not to internalize and fulfill those low expectations. The public educational system wreaks havoc on the feelings of self-worth of the child with a disability. Every person that I have interviewed speaks of childhood memories of intense isolation, deep rooted feelings of inferiority, and an assault on their self-esteem. For many, the scars take years to eradicate, and can resurface when confronted by constructive criticism, snide comments, a rude look, or any challenging situation. Changing from a “you can’t do that” mentality to an adult “I can do that” attitude requires great effort.

Children model adult behavior, and the plague of low expectations spreads to little ones without disabilities as well. These children have been exposed day after to day to a system that treats a group of their peers as inferior, and they naturally come to accept that perspective. In addition, if there is segregation of the two groups of students within the school, there is limited opportunity to get to know each other and break down the stereotypes. Children could have the opportunity to form friendships in extracurricular activities, but sadly this doesn’t happen very often. Children with disabilities are only able to partake in activities with leaders willing to accommodate their differences, which are not necessarily activities for which they have a natural affinity or a genuine interest.

Consequently, many children with disabilities never experience solid friendships with their able-bodied peers. By the teenage years, many schools aggravate this problem by setting up well-intentioned service opportunities for their able bodied students, pairing them with students with disabilities for social activities. What I have seen repeatedly is that the able-bodied student sees a short term charitable project, albeit a fun one, while the student with a disability, lacking experience with relationships, believes he or she has formed a real, lasting friendship. This disconnect often is never fully realized by either side, and down the road leads to confusion, hurt feelings, and sometimes hostility, exacerbating the divide between the two groups.

It can be seen, then, that the child with a disability loses out on academic instruction and therefore academic potential, self-esteem, and relationships. But, others suffer too. Able-bodied children lose the opportunity to be exposed to peers who have a different perspective on some life issues, and society loses the opportunity to fully experience the talents and contributions of this suppressed group of people.

The current system, defined by low expectations for students with disabilities doesn’t work. What is needed is an educational system that accepts all aspects of diversity, including diversity of ability. What is needed is a school system that truly respects each individual child and supports all children to become full members of a diverse society that benefits from the full education of each of its members. There is not some precise line dividing the ability from disability. Every child, and for that matter every person, has abilities along a continuum. In addition, each child has individual strengths and weaknesses. Priorities should be set so that not only can weaknesses be improved, but strengths, interests, and passions can flourish.

Class sizes need to be smaller, so that teachers can get to know each student and his or her unique needs. Lessons should be offered in many formats – visual, auditory, kinesthetic, creative role playing, tactile, and experiential. Each format needs to be considered to be of equal merit, deserving of high quality materials that are ready in a timely fashion. The ideal classroom would be reflective of the ideal society, having diversity represented among the staff as well as the children. Diversity of ability should be prized in teachers, as enriching the educational process and society. A teacher with a kinesthetic learning style, one who might have been labeled as uncooperative and wiggly in first grade, would be a valued member of a team with teachers of other learning styles.

This truly respectful environment would foster self-worth, confidence, and a joy and love of learning. In a school with respect for individuality and diversity of ability, natural peer relationships and friendships would develop without the barriers of artificial superiority or inferiority. Children would grow up to offer their self-confidence and varying talents to create a just, diverse society enriched as Jefferson imagined through the foundation of a strong public education system.

Milemarker Mania

I like to travel. I’ve talked on this blog about my Wisconsin summer vacation, my Costa Rica adventure, and my Yellowstone vacation. When I was 10 years old, my family took a 2 week car trip around Lake Michigan. The vacation was a combination of driving, sightseeing, visiting cousins, swimming, biking, hiking, and just hanging out together.

On our drive, we stopped at picturesque lighthouses along both Lake Michigan and Lake Superior. As a passenger in the car, I watched lush, green forests go by my window, and for the first time, noticed milemarkers along the highways. I learned that these posts tell you how far you are along your road and, if you do the math, how much further you have to travel to get to your destination.

One often hears that life is a journey, and that the goal is not to race to the “finish line”, but rather to embrace the whole trip. Yet, when you are a child growing up with a disability, many people, particularly educators and health care providers, focus solely on your milemarkers, as though the milemarkers and the journey are one and the same. Gross motor skills, fine motor skills, speech and language abilities, cognitive skills, academic level, activities of daily living skills, social skills and on and on - it is easy to become consumed with measuring progress against these markers, and take them on as though they were life itself.

My parents carefully planned the routes we would take for our Lake Michigan adventure; we traveled through northwest Indiana and southern Michigan, spent a few days visiting Sleeping Bear Dunes and Traverse City, took a bike trip around Mackinac Island, drove along chilly Lake Superior, and then traveled home through the farmlands of Wisconsin. My parents planned the daily mileage, the finances, the fun, the food, and the sights we would see. They also left room for potential adjustments in the itinerary, and adjustments did take place when we were having a particularly fun time somewhere or when a road was closed due to construction.

The same careful planning is important for my life – defining my priorities and what will make my life full and fulfilling, and then considering how to reach these priorities. I also have to be open for the unexpected pleasures and necessary detours along the way. For example, when I started my interview project, I never expected to have so much fun blogging, to "meet" so many interesting people through the blog carnivals, to learn from the experiences of others and to feel a part of an internet community; I very much appreciate this unique side trip.

Like the time I waited in a long line for a piece of famous Mackinaw Island fudge, sometimes short term sacrifices are necessary to achieve a long term benefit. For example, I do a lot of physical therapy – not how I’d like to spend several hours a week. The reward is not the range of motion of my hips or the fact that I can get good chest and diaphragm expansion. Those are merely milemarkers. What is meaningful is being able to have fun singing, having the breath support to be able to speak understandably, and getting fewer respiratory infections. Sometimes my motivation to endure physical therapy is to avoid a major hip or back surgery, just as when a driver chooses an unpleasant bumpy backroad detour to avoid a bridge that is out.

Milemarkers just give a number, a neutral number. They don’t tell you if you are on the road to New York or the road to California and they won’t inform you to what road is best for you. So, before looking at the milemarkers, thinking carefully about where each road leads is wise. Which of the many possible roads, should one choose? Sometimes, multiple roads can be taken at the same time, while other times that is just not practical, and choices need to be made.

Milemarkers are wooden or concrete posts stuck in the ground, and they give limited, lifeless information. My trip around Lake Michigan was not merely driving from one milemarker to the next – what a drag that would have been! I would have missed so much of Lake Michigan, so many fun times with my family. Nor should life be merely a rote, absent-minded journey from one milemarker to the next, with no thought of the road, the destination, or the beauty of the present.

Going to college: high-tech, low-tech, mom-tech

This week I started college at Dominican University in River Forest, Illinois. I'm excited and looking forward to a challenging (in the good sense!) and rewarding experience.

It's taken me a couple months to address my unique needs for college. I know from other experiences that planning makes a big difference. But, I also know that even with the best planning, unpleasant surprises and delays occur.

I have a few new things to help meet my various needs - some high-tech, some low-tech, and some designed with the tools of improvisation (like velcro, duct tape, items intended for other use) with which every person with a disability becomes all too familiar. Like other times in my life, many adaptations were designed by a creative genius, a.k.a. my mother, because there was no product that exactly worked for me.

Improvisation is a key aspect of living with a disability. Many times there are no products available to meet the individual’s specific purpose. You have to use your imagination and be creative. In the basement, my family has a box filled with Velcro, extra padding, spare parts, and a ready supply of duct tape.





The staff from the University of Illinois Assistive Technology Unit, who I started meeting with last March, designed and installed a small flip-out tray for my Kensington Trackball. They designed it so that I can store the little tray under my wheelchair tray, and independently move it into place when needed. They also designed my armrest to flip open to give my wrist added support while using the trackball. Now I can use my laptop computer while in my wheelchair! At this time, though, I still prefer to lie on the floor and use the computer, including my Dragon software, because then I can have all my papers on the floor to look at and sort through. And, I can roll around and change position as needed; my back doesn't get quite as sore.



I needed to get a cell phone for school. My parents spent a lot of time checking out the possibilities. Unfortunately, the UIC AT people didn't have advice on particular phones. Access World had an article on cell phones, and Planet Mobility had information on a 100% voice activated phone. Also, Jitterbug makes an easy to use cell phone. None of those exactly met my needs. We went to the Verizon store and picked a phone that seems like a good match for me - the GzOne phone. It's a rugged phone, made to stand up to shock (i.e. accidental dropping) and also water resistant. The buttons were not too hard to operate, and we programmed the numbers I'd use the most into speed dialing, so that I can call them with the press of one button. I decided against a Bluetooth headset because I am not able to get the headset on and off by myself. I also was not able to flip the phone open in its original form. We put the phone in a holster, and taped an old caribiner hook on the back. Now I had something I could grip with my left hand. Then my mom threaded a string through two washers and taped it all to the top of the phone. With my right hand, I can grab the string and flip open the phone.

My mom found two different baby stroller cup holders and set up one for my water bottle. The other one she rigged up to be attached to the first one and to hold my cell phone. She also attached a strap to the phone to make it easier to pull out of its cup holder.

I also bought the Day Cruiser bag from Wheelchair Gear, which is attached to the left side of my chair. With practice, I am getting the hang of opening the velcro flap and getting into the bag. We may have to remove the velcro. We attached a key chain holder to the zipper compartment with the hope that I can get the hang of using that compartment also.


I have also worked with the university to address my needs. This semester, I’m only taking two classes to make it easier to juggle academics, learn the ins and outs of addressing my needs, do physical therapy, and, of course, have time for fun stuff.

I emailed my professors over the summer to explain some of my needs. I ordered audio version of my textbooks from RFB&D and my local branch of the National Library Service for the Blind. And, I just got a subscription with Bookshare. (Even with all that planning, I still don't have all my books in an audio format!)

After the first day of class, I met with my professors to talk about what I needed to succeed in their classes. I was pleased that they were both receptive, and the meetings went well.

Each professor is helping me to find a classmate to be my notetaker. The classmate will make a copy of his or her notes for meand get paid $9 dollars an hour by the Department Of Rehabilitation Services Vocational Rehab (DORS). DORS has been a great support thus far - helping with some of my tuition and also with books and equipment costs.

I don't have the care of my personal needs (eating, bathrooming) figured out yet. With the light load I am taking this semester, I'll just address those needs at home for now.

I’m looking forward to the start of this college adventure. I don't think I'll be doing any interviews in the near future, but I still plan to continue blogging and sharing my two cents. Sorry, the blogosphere can’t get rid of me!

Update from June 29

viernes

Today we went to the University of Costa Rica and learned about their disability service program. They have 158 students with disabilities on campus. I was very impressed with the accessibility on campus; nearly every building had a ramp. I was also impressed with how the support service seemed to want to support many types of students disabilities. They seemed very on top of things.

Later, my host family hosted a barbeque. I got to meet other host families and socialize. The things that really stand out for me is al the families' overwhelming warmth and hospitality. I love my Costa Rican host family. I will miss them very much when I leave. Tomorrow is my last day with them as we will be departing for Parque Nacional Carara. (I don't know if I'll have any internet access.)

My trip ends Thursday. I can't believe it's going so fast.

Cool Links

Last week, I did not get to blogging, and I don't think I'll get much blogging done this week either. I've been having neck pain (boy, can pain really sap your energy) and a variety of health care and college-related appointments. So, here are some links that I think might be of interest.

Paul Crichton is a computer expert who works for BBC Ouch Magazine. Paul’s goal is to make websites more accessible to people with disabilities. Last week, Paul interviewed me and invited me to share my thoughts about the Internet.

Speaking of the UK, Gojo is a new website, designed to help people with disabilities in England improve the quality of transportation to enhance their independence. Gojo is looking for suggestions from the public on how to improve the transportation system.

Here is a three-minute video from the Disability Rights Commission of the United Kingdom that shows what the world might be like if people were discriminated against for being able bodied. Sister Edith, from Monastic Musings, has a great Blogging Against Disablism Day post about this video.




Here's a new blog from the University of California Los Angeles about Pathway, a program that provides educational, vocational, and social experiences for people with mental disabilities. Thanks to Ryn Tales, for connecting me to this exciting program that will open doors for many students.

Christie Gilson: An Agent for Change

Last week, I had the pleasure of interviewing Christie Gilson. I met Christie at her office in the Education Building at the University of Illinois. Christie is a warm, friendly person with an easy laugh, and was very open in sharing her thoughts and goals. She has a “go for it” outlook on life, teaching by example to follow one's dreams. This is the first of several entries about my interview with Christie.

Christie is a blind Doctoral Candidate in the Department of Special Education at the University of Illinois. She has an interest in the educational experiences of students with disabilities around the world, particularly in Asia. She said that Asian college students with disabilities are underrepresented in education research. Two years ago, Christie applied for a Fulbright scholarship to do her dissertation research with students at the University of Hong Kong. Her alternative plan was to interview international students with disabilities currently living in the U.S. about their schooling experiences.

Christie was thrilled to learn, several months later, that Fulbright had accepted her, and she began to plan the many details that would make for a successful Fulbright experience. She needed to set up all the necessary requirements for her dissertation research, and because she is blind, she had additional planning to do. Christie had previously lived in Germany with her ex-husband, but this would be her first time traveling alone for an extended period of time. She called Mobility International USA and the American Consulate to ask for travel and living advice. One of her hardest decisions was deciding whether to bring her elderly German Shepherd guide dog. In Hong Kong, dogs are uncommon, and guide dogs are never used. Also, because her dog is elderly, Christie wondered whether her dog would be anxious in such an unfamiliar place. In the end, Christie decided it would be best to leave her dog home and bring her white cane.

Excited to share her big news, Christie told family, friends, and coworkers about her Fulbright award. Most were excited and supportive, happy that Christie would be following her dream of going to Asia and respectful of Christie's ability to do the work to make this experience successful.

However, there was one person who doubted. A special education faculty member. The only place that Christie encountered questioning of her ability to function as a blind Fulbright scholar in Asia was from a special education faculty member.

We hope that special education teachers empower students with disabilities to believe in their capabilities and support them in finding the necessary resources to make their dreams happen. The irony is that many of us have consistently had the exact opposite experience. We've had special education teachers who cannot see beyond our disabilities. They box us in, seeing us as nothing more than a collection of "problems". Christie’s out to change special education. As a faculty member, teaching special education teachers, there will be no more boxes.


Description of picture: Christie and her German Shepherd guide dog, Jill

A Day at Work

I interviewed Chris and his mom, Sheila, (real names used with permission) about Chris's job. Chris is a mail clerk for Rotary International. He has had this job since 1993. He works 40 hours a week, has full healthcare benefits, and paid vacation time.

Chris describes a typical workday:

7:00 a.m. - Chris gets up, has breakfast, and puts on a white shirt and tie.
7:45 a.m. - Chris walks to the bus stop, takes bus #204 for a 15 minute ride, and then walks a few blocks to work.
8:30 a.m. - Chris signs in.
8:30 a.m. - 9:30 a.m. - Chris works in the mail center, opening mail, sorting incoming mail and interoffice mail by department, sorting the outgoing mail by cost center, and using the mail machine to seal and stamp mail.
9:30 a.m. - First mail run of the day. Pushing his mail cart, Chris takes the freight elevator to deliver mail to the departments on the 18th, 17th, 16th, 15th, and 3rd floors. After the mail run he returns to the mail center for more sorting work.
11:00 a.m. - Second mail run of the day.
12:00 p.m. - 12:30 p.m.- Chris takes his lunch break in the cafeteria.
12:30 p.m. - Back to work in the mail center.
1:30 p.m. - Third mail run of the day.
3:00 p.m. - Fourth mail run of the day.
4:00 p.m. - Last mail run of the day.
5:00 p.m. - Chris heads home on the bus.

Chris is very dedicated to his work. He is always on time and is rarely absent. His professionalism is appreciated by Rotary International. Chris has an excellent memory for names and knows almost everyone in the company. He loves his job and loves the people he works with.

Payday is every other Friday. Chris deposits most of his paycheck into his bank account, taking out a small amount for his wallet. He uses his money to buy his lunch and soda at work, take his parents out to dinner occasionally, and pay for his YMCA membership.

Chris got to where he is today with hard work on his part and a team effort with his parents, his school and his community. He got his first job at 13 years old, picking up the mail from his church, then crossing two streets and delivering the mail to the post office. Chris’s school and his mother worked together to set up many job training opportunities for him. Over the years, he worked one to three hours a day as a mail clerk at a nursing home, in food service at a school, at his local university, and in other jobs in his community. In addition to learning job skills, Chris learned how to cross streets, take public transportation, and he explored his likes and dislikes.

Since Chris had always enjoyed delivering mail, Sheila thought working at Rotary International as mail clerk might be a good match for him. In addition, Rotary was at a location that Chris could get to independently. In April of his last year of school, Chris began training to work for Rotary. His job coach from his school helped to develop the job, break it down into smaller pieces, and teach him the whole process. The job coach provided Chris with full support initially and gradually withdrew his support as Chris became more comfortable with the job. In June of 1993, Chris finished high school and started working full time for Rotary International. Coming up on his 14th anniversary, Chris is a valued member of his company.

“I’m proud of myself. I love my job,” Chris says with a smile.

Top photo from Steve Liss, other photos from Sheila

Thinking outside the box

The next Disability Blog Carnival will be hosted by Goldfish on Thursday, November 23. The theme for this carnival is "Different ways of going about things." I think this is a great theme, because we with disabilities learn something that everyone should know: you don't have to do something the way it's always been done.


I completed high school in six years. I studied two to four classes at a time making use of a variety of formats. Some classes, such as World History, English and Biology, I physically took at the school. Two afternoons a week, a tutor came to my house for one-on-one Spanish classes, allowing me to stretch out on the carpet and rest my body. Over the summers and during other “slow” times, my mom and I independently progressed through algebra and geometry. I completed lighter classes like health and consumer economics through correspondence courses. I took one semester of physics and one semester of chemistry online.

Why did I do things this way? How did this decision come about?

Through 14 years of raising triplets, each of us a unique individual, my parents had already learned to look at my needs and my goals as the first step in making this type of decision. We had already done elementary and junior high school in unique ways, so making careful decisions was nothing new to us.

Some goals for my high school years were: prepare for college by taking strong academic courses; continue with my singing and other hobbies, while exploring new interests; spend time with friends; strengthen my body with daily exercise; and let my body have the daily rest that it needs.

Our decision (actually, mainly my parents' decision in the early years) gave me the opportunity for success. I believe I am well prepared for college. Taking fewer classes at one time and spreading them over a longer number of years, allowed me to take some honors classes, including a philosophy class and Advanced Placement Spanish. I was able to complete math requirements, my most challenging subject area due to visual and conceptual difficulties, at my own pace and in a highly personalized way adapted to fit my learning style. An advantage of the online science classes was the opportunity to work in an interactive virtual lab. In the virtual lab, I got to weigh samples, fill test tubes, light a burner, and perform other tasks I am not physically able to do. (Unfortunately, the online chemistry class was highly disorganized and filled with errors, but that's another story.)

I continued my singing throughout high school. I really enjoyed taking voice lessons and singing at both my church and school. I sang in a few school musicals, but sadly and frustratingly, the school had difficulty accommodating my wheelchair, so I did not pursue this interest as much as I would have liked.

During high school, I had some fun times with friends, although like most students, I would have liked to have spent more time with them. The last two years were more challenging socially since my peers had already graduated.

When I would leave school after a partial day, both students and staff would frequently comment, "Oh, David! You're so lucky you get to go home." Little did they know, it was often difficult and painful for me to sit in my wheelchair for half a day, and I was going home to rest, recover, and do physical therapy exercises to strengthen my body.

My path through high school was an unconventional one. I still believe in my goals, but that didn't make life easy. I was juggling challenging academics, physical needs, hobbies, and a social life, while the obstacles of an inaccessible world, some people’s unsupportive attitudes, my pain, and my limited stamina often worked to sabotage my juggling act. At times, life was very stressful, and my time was always a precious resource.

My most difficult sacrifice was not graduating high school in four years with my peers. It was really tough watching my friends, many I had known for 12 years, start a new phase of their lives, all the while knowing that I would be returning to high school. So I wonder - was there any way that I could have met my goals while graduating in four years? I know I couldn't have taken a heavier academic load, and to cut my non-school interests, my social life, or my rest any further would have been unacceptable. So, I'm left wondering about the pull between my work on my body, which I did for several hours a day, versus graduating in four years. I don't know the answer to this question. Physical therapy has certainly improved my strength, stamina, and capabilities, and it has definitely reduced my pain. However, those benefits have come at a cost: the loss of time to meet my other goals and still graduate from high school in four years.

I am grateful to my parents for thinking “outside the box” and for teaching me how to make decisions. My parents have shown me some steps in how to make a decision: identify my values, priorities, and goals, then think of possible ways to make the goals happen. There are many tools in the toolbox to help make goals happen - brainstorming, seeing what others in a similar situation have done, and listening to what "experts" advise. It seems to me that in our society, many decisions are made for people with disabilities by simply doing what has always been done. Each of us needs to think for ourselves about our own individual goals, and then use our toolbox of tools to make the best decisions.

Name on the blackboard

This entry is my reflection on my first interview.

In this blog, I will NEVER reveal the identities of my interviewees. The names I use will always be fictitious. However, the issues discussed here will be real issues from real lives.

"Ashley” is an articulate, thoughtful, hardworking college student who has a learning disability. She shared her thoughts on some of her elementary school experiences.

Ashley remembers the school environment as overwhelming and chaotic. Ashley recalls being terrified to go to school and feeling tremendous relief when it was time to go home.

One of Ashley’s biggest fears in first grade was getting her name on the board. Getting your name on the board meant that you were a “bad girl”. To Ashley, her name would appear on the board at random times. Her name was on the board because she had her math book out; her name was on the board because she had her spelling book out; her name was on the board when she moved too slowly; her name was on the board when she moved too quickly. The consequences at school seemed arbitrary and scary. Ashley now realizes that she didn’t catch all the rules and their subtleties, making her feel inferior, incapable, and sad through much of elementary school.

Ashley said that high school was a better experience for her. Slowly, she started to realize that her weaknesses and challenges didn’t define her; that she was more than her disability. She started to discover her many strengths. When Ashley separated her challenges from her identity, she was able to find strategies to make school work for her. She met with teachers regularly to clarify expectations and rules; she developed the courage to ask for the accommodations that she needed, and she sought to follow her strengths, not dwelling on her weaknesses.

A few thoughts –
A child who seems to be misbehaving may just not understand the rules.

Everyone should be treated with dignity. A person’s identity is extraordinarily complex and cannot be simplified into a collection of strengths and weaknesses.

Something that teachers and parents could do for children with disabilities is to help them see that their needs do not define who they are.

The unique gifts that all children have to offer should be embraced.