Image Description: A pink rose with thorns and brown flowers.
Having a disability has been like a prickly flower. The flower produces beauty, but also has thorns. It has been
one that I did not ask for; it is mine to carry and tend to all my life.
I have had this flower since kindergarten. The sharp barb of struggling with academics pierced my tender flesh. The
struggles and wounds did not go unnoticed. I struggled to tie my shoes, write my
name, and perform math. I was diagnosed with a learning disability by the end
of the year. I had to repeat the grade the following year in a different
school. I also began to receive specialized instruction and accommodations.
Having these supports showed me how to care for this bramble of a flower. The
specialized instruction and small groups were tailored to my needs. Having the
test read aloud and extra time on tests helped me focus and process
information.
The thistle of being different bore into my flesh, and the bullying began early. The small school
made me stick out like a giant, sharp point. I could not conceal that I went to
learning support for classes and to have tests read aloud. I was also
picked on in these classes. Many of my peers in learning support struggled with
reading, not math. Other peers in the class had behavior issues and trauma
backgrounds. In regular education classes, I was not considered a valuable
member of the class.
Throughout the school years, my flower began to blossom even more. I was in all regular education classes
except for math. I was getting good grades. Socially, the burs also began to
increase, loading deeper into my skin. Most of the peer groups were already
established, and I did not fit into one group. I began to realize that I was
not connected to this group and would not flourish if I remained in the same
spot.
I began to hang out with peers in an arts group outside of the school district. I found acceptance and
peers who shared the same interests. After I transitioned out of that group, I
found an adult writing group. They got to see me grow as a writer and a person.
My group encouraged me to write about having a disability, but I was hesitant.
The group still meets monthly.
The nettle of having a disability counted through my adult life. Many professionals thought that I would not be
able to go to college, and told me to go to a trade school. None of the
programs offered interested me, and I decided to go to college. I faced more
stigma at college. I had a Physiatrist who told me I would not go beyond
community college. Disability accommodations were considered cheating both by
my classmates and faculty. When I asked for a calculator in a math class, the
professor told me that we use our brains, not calculators. I had an advisor who
told me that I would have limited job choices. I was able to graduate
with an Associate's Degree in Early Childhood Education
I was able to move out on my own. I enjoyed having my independence and living in a central
location. I am unable to drive because of it, and living in a central location
enabled me to get where I needed to go. I worked temporary jobs in childcare
and schools. I always wanted better for myself. I felt the sting of having to
move back in with my parents for financial reasons.
When I moved back home again, I decided to go back to university. I researched programs and found one that I
loved with the least amount of math and science possible. The school also had
disability accommodations. I used the support of having a note taker, extended
test time, and tutoring when I needed it. I advocated for myself with
professors. I would introduce myself and explain my disability and what I
needed. A majority of them understood and did what they could to help. A few
did not understand, but I could handle it. My grades improved. I was proud when
I made the Dean's list for a semester, and was able to earn my bachelor's
degree. friendly, but were not. I struggled to perform the job duties and was
terminated. I have been working as a teacher’s aide for 15 years this fall. I
find it rewarding to work with students with disabilities. I can understand the
jabs of their thorns. It is like hearing a recording of myself at that
age. I often hear that they hate their disability, and they do not feel smart.
I get to tell them that having one is not a bad thing and that they are smart. I
also get to show them how to advocate. My students will one day leave me, but
for many, their disabilities will remain. Learning how to speak up for
themselves is key to having success in life.
For the rest of my life, I will carry the flower, with its blooms and briers. The blooms are the
accomplishments and achievements I have had in life. The thorns are the
struggles that I have had to face with having one. I have plucked many of
the thorns and have found relief. Some of them remain burrowed deep in my skin.
I am learning to soothe the aches and focus on the blooms. I can also help
others heal their wounds with them. I can move forward carrying my flower with
a beautiful bloom and a sharp thorn.
