The Value of Each Person
For this month, until mid-June, I am working as a teacher's assistant in the special education program at Como Park Elementary in St. Paul. Every day, I eat lunch in the staff lounge with other TA's, and listen to their daily conversations as I quietly read the newspaper.
Today, one woman (whose name I do not know) was hypothesizing to the other TA's at the table about the cost of special ed programs. "The state would save so much money if there weren't special ed programs. I mean, these kids are never going to become fully-functioning members of society anyway, so how much do they really need to be educated?" And as she continued on about this point, I could feel my chest constricting and my heart pounding, I couldn't stand to even hear her hypothesis about such things. I felt afraid to speak against her (maybe because I still have this strange thing about respecting my elders), but I summoned my courage and shared my opinions:
"These kids may not ever become 'fully-functioning' members of society, but they may still be able to work toward realizing their full potential, whatever that may be. People with disabilities used to be locked up and kept in institutions, away from society, but now they are finally given the chance to have as normal of a life as possible. . . ."
I assume that this woman did not fully promote or believe in the "what if's" she was saying, but I still became angry even to hear her hypothesize about such things. People with disabilities deserve empowerment and opportunities and dignity just as much as the rest of us in society, and we are depriving ourselves of a priceless group of people if we think that disabled people have nothing to offer society. They are beautiful, wonderful people, with minds and emotions and identities like the rest of us. There are so many things I have learned from my experiences with the disabled population:
I learned how to walk slowly and enjoy life with Noreen, a woman who was 4 foot 5 inches and 50 years old, and didn't ever speak. I learned about true beauty in the smile of Ollie Mae, an old black woman from Mississippi who is developmentally disabled, but has a personality like a spark of fire. I learned to enjoy the sun from Petronila, a teenage girl with spina bifida in Guatemala, because she was never able to go up onto the roof to enjoy the sunshine until I carried her up there; her joy was indescribable. I learn not to take myself so seriously from Chou, a Hmong boy in my class at Como Park, because everytime I sing or hum a tune for him, he breaks out in raucous, uncontainable laughter for no reason at all.
For my senior seminar presentation, I talked about realizing the full humanity of each person. I know now that it was an easy idea to talk about, but it's another thing to live it out in daily life. I don't know how to live to affirm each person's humanity, but I know that it's something that's worth giving my life to and trying to do in little ways each day. My heart hurts when I become aware of the lack of compassion in my own life. . . .
Today, one woman (whose name I do not know) was hypothesizing to the other TA's at the table about the cost of special ed programs. "The state would save so much money if there weren't special ed programs. I mean, these kids are never going to become fully-functioning members of society anyway, so how much do they really need to be educated?" And as she continued on about this point, I could feel my chest constricting and my heart pounding, I couldn't stand to even hear her hypothesis about such things. I felt afraid to speak against her (maybe because I still have this strange thing about respecting my elders), but I summoned my courage and shared my opinions:
"These kids may not ever become 'fully-functioning' members of society, but they may still be able to work toward realizing their full potential, whatever that may be. People with disabilities used to be locked up and kept in institutions, away from society, but now they are finally given the chance to have as normal of a life as possible. . . ."
I assume that this woman did not fully promote or believe in the "what if's" she was saying, but I still became angry even to hear her hypothesize about such things. People with disabilities deserve empowerment and opportunities and dignity just as much as the rest of us in society, and we are depriving ourselves of a priceless group of people if we think that disabled people have nothing to offer society. They are beautiful, wonderful people, with minds and emotions and identities like the rest of us. There are so many things I have learned from my experiences with the disabled population:
I learned how to walk slowly and enjoy life with Noreen, a woman who was 4 foot 5 inches and 50 years old, and didn't ever speak. I learned about true beauty in the smile of Ollie Mae, an old black woman from Mississippi who is developmentally disabled, but has a personality like a spark of fire. I learned to enjoy the sun from Petronila, a teenage girl with spina bifida in Guatemala, because she was never able to go up onto the roof to enjoy the sunshine until I carried her up there; her joy was indescribable. I learn not to take myself so seriously from Chou, a Hmong boy in my class at Como Park, because everytime I sing or hum a tune for him, he breaks out in raucous, uncontainable laughter for no reason at all.
For my senior seminar presentation, I talked about realizing the full humanity of each person. I know now that it was an easy idea to talk about, but it's another thing to live it out in daily life. I don't know how to live to affirm each person's humanity, but I know that it's something that's worth giving my life to and trying to do in little ways each day. My heart hurts when I become aware of the lack of compassion in my own life. . . .
posted by Mel at 4:02 PM
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