Just out of college, I moved to Memphis, Tenn. Struggling to find work, I connected with a temporary agency. One assignment I received was a job as an assistant in a high school classroom.
My anxiety was high as the day approached. I was desperate to find work in my new city but had serious doubts going into this one.
Stepping into the hallways of a high school where I knew no one was about as terrifying of an experience as I could think of. My awkward gait often preceded my reputation. I feared being around kids because their filters were often not fully functioning.
I told myself I would not take offense no matter what I heard. Deep down, I knew there was no truth to that. I knew it would hurt like hell to hear unsolicited and brutal opinions about my body. It always did.
As I entered the classroom, I met the head teacher. He pointed me to my desk in the back of the room. The way he looked me up and down sent a chill throughout my body. It was as if his eyes were warning me to get the heck out of there.
I heard some giggles and comments as I limped my way back to my new desk. There were a few “what is wrong with her” remarks as I unsteadily made my way through the crowded desks.
I nervously began to set out my supplies. As I pulled open one of my desk drawers, I saw several cockroaches running around. I quickly shut the drawer and decided against putting my things inside the desk. That was too permanent a move for a temp anyway.
It was at the exact moment that I discovered I am deathly afraid of cockroaches. I almost fainted.
I busied myself by carefully arranging a few supplies on top of the desk. As I went to set my bag on the floor a student warned, “I wouldn’t put that there.” Right about then I saw more roaches crawling along the edge of the room near my desk.
I smiled and thanked him for the warning.
On a normal basis I felt completely uncomfortable in my own skin. The position I was in, multiplied that by a million. I wanted to escape from that room, from myself.
The bell rang and the teacher approached the front of the room. He introduced me as the temporary classroom assistant. He began his lesson and the students quickly became restless. There was a lot of talking and it was escalating in a concerning direction.
The next thing I knew, two students were arguing. When they stood up to go towards each other, the teacher was understandably panicking. I knew it was not going to turn out well.
With my desk in the back of the room and all the student desks in front of me I felt trapped. Technically I wasn’t alone. I had the roaches by my side.
The argument became physical and finally ended up on top of my desk! My carefully placed items flew in all directions. I scooted my chair back as close to the wall as possible, but that was only a few inches.
It was an out-of-body experience. I knew I had nothing to give in that moment to stop the situation. My weakness was on full display. I could not protect myself or do anything to stop the fight happening just in front of me.
I imagined scenarios throughout my life when my weakness would hinder me from getting myself out of dangerous situations. This was not one of the imagined situations.
Finally, the teacher broke up the fight and sent the students to the principal’s office. By the time lunch rolled around, I was still reeling from the events that had taken place since my arrival that morning.
Uncharacteristic of me, I broke the rules. I went against every ounce of people pleaser in me. I walked out of that school as quickly as my legs would take me, which was a snail’s pace. A quick snail.
I told myself I would eat lunch in my car to regroup and then head back in and finish the day. Once I was in the safety of my car, I felt myself starting it and putting it in reverse. I told no one that I was leaving. I felt immense guilt, but not enough to stop me.
I made the generous decision to gift the roaches my pencil holder and other desks items.
From that point on, I started to speak up for myself at my work environments. It came slowly, but that was a turning point for me in realizing the importance of self-advocacy, in all areas of my life.
Until next time …
Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, freelance writer, wife, and mom of two boys. She is the recipient of the Reporter’s Winter 2025 Ink-Stained Wretch award. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.