Kindness of a Teacher

Hello and welcome to another week at Humbly Courageous. I am so glad you are here! 

Middle school… arguably some of the most miserable and tormented years of one’s life. It's a challenging, transitional period of life where so many changes are happening. It's hard to keep up with all the newness coming at you at once. Imagine throwing a disability into the mix. The insecurity was unbearable. If ever there was a time I wanted to be invisible and just disappear, it was then.  

It was the first time that I had to manage a timed requirement to make it from one class to the next. I was forced out of the comfort of my elementary school, where my classmates were familiar with my disability, and for the most part, the mocking and being made fun of had stopped. Middle school was a whole new set of kids, which was like starting from square one. Plus, a new building to get familiar with. 6th grade was doable because it was in a more confined area of the school with no stairs. Made it through ok. 7th grade was a different story. It was a much bigger area of the school that my classes were spread out to, and there were stairs. If I remember correctly, we had about seven minutes to go to our locker, restroom and make it to the next class. That was difficult for me. I had a teacher who saw I was struggling and quietly approached me. Not drawing attention to me. He wasn’t even known as one of the nicest teachers in the building, but I can 100 percent tell you, he was top notch. 

At the time, I didn’t yet know how to speak up for myself, or how to ask for accommodations. Things were much different in the 80's vs now, as how someone with a disability like mine was accommodated at school. At the same time, I probably would have been resistant to "special" accommodations because that just puts a brighter spotlight on something that is already lit up! A lot of silent suffering and anxiety because I didn't know how to express my needs. That, combined with I didn't really want to, even though it's what I needed. I didn't really know how to voice that in a way where I could get my needs met and still "fit in" as kids that age so desperately want to do.

Some advice from where I sit...if you are a teacher and have a student with a disability, please know that at a young age, they don’t always know how to voice their needs. They are just trying to make sense of it themselves and maybe haven’t even moved into the problem solving mode. And please don’t draw extra attention to them. It’s likely the last thing they want. While not always intentional, I have been singled out as the kid with the disability that has "different" needs so many times. While that was true, announcing it to an entire classroom isn't always necessary. 

I’ve heard many times in my life, that people with disabilities are trying to get “special” attention. How hurtful that is to hear when it’s so untrue. Having to think outside of the box for someone because existing accommodations don’t fit their needs isn’t “special". It’s necessary to function as a human in society. A human need, not a special need. Read that again.

It’s the absolute worst thing when you need a space or circumstance to be altered to accommodate your needs, and a big hoopla is made of it. It’s embarrassing, degrading and completely unnecessary. That happens to me very often. It's like people go into a panic or something, and everything just becomes chaotic when, for example, at a restaurant and needing to make space for my wheelchair to come through, or make a space at a table. Many times, an entire restaurant is disrupted, and all eyes are on me, which is the last thing in the world that I want. I'm afraid to make any eye contact during that time because I am afraid I will be met with disapproving looks. I speak from experience. 

So, this is a shoutout to my 7th grade English teacher, Mr. S, for intuitively knowing just how to approach me, and in turn help me without anyone really ever knowing. I didn't have to feel like the kid who was different for needing a little extra time, or a little extra grace. He continued to quietly check in on me throughout that year to see if anything needed to be changed. 

Asking for help as a child with a disability takes humble courage for sure. I wasn't the best at it, so I am grateful to all of the teachers I had along the way that were able to help me, without making me feel different. There were a handful of gems along the way, and I will never forget them for the kindness they took the time to show me, despite their heavy load. They will never know just how much that meant to me. 💚

For more on my story, follow me on Instagram @ashinneman, or check out my weekly column in The Hamilton County Reporter, "Disability in the City". 

https://readthereporter.com/on-the-other-side/