Quietly kind

Middle school … to many, some of the most miserable and tormented years of one’s life. It is often a challenging, transitional period of life when so many changes are happening. It is hard to keep up with all the newness coming at you at once.

Throwing a disability into the mix, my insecurities felt unbearable at times. 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. Middle school was a whole new set of kids, which was like starting from square one. Plus, a new building to get familiar with. Sixth grade was doable because it was in a more confined area of the school with no stairs. Seventh grade was a different story. It was a much bigger area of the school, my classes spread in all areas, and there were stairs. 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 was not even known as one of the nicest teachers in the building, but to me, he was top notch.

I did not yet know how to speak up for myself or how to ask for accommodations. Things were much different in the ‘80s vs. now, as how someone with a disability like mine was accommodated at school. At the same time, I 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 did not know how to express my needs. That, combined with I did not really want to, even though it is what I needed. I did not 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 do not always know how to voice their needs. They are just trying to make sense of it themselves and maybe have not even moved into the problem-solving mode. While not always intentional, I have been singled out as the kid with the disability that has “different” needs so many times.

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

It is 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 is embarrassing, degrading, and completely unnecessary. That happens to me very often. It is 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 am afraid to make any eye contact during that time because I am afraid, I will be met with disapproving looks. I speak from experience.

Shoutout to my seventh-grade English teacher, Mr. S, for intuitively knowing just how to approach me, and in turn help me without anyone ever knowing. I did not 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 adjusted.

Asking for help as a child with a disability takes humble courage for sure. I was not the best at it, so I am grateful to all 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.

Until next time …

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.