Go Forward

Yesterday was the 18th anniversary of my Nanny's death. It is usually custom for me to be sad and lamenting, but I did not have time for sadness yesterday. Thanks to my friend Kayla and her new puppy Cola, I was in good company. It was so good to have someone to talk to about anything and everything, and snuggling with a cute baby furball was a bonus.

I always enjoy talking with Kayla because she offers a different perspective being a student like me, but also a student juggling the demands of Type 1 Diabetes. Our conversation was interesting yesterday, because we were able to draw similarities  and contrasts between diabetes and aspects of 

living with a disability. Sometimes I feel bad, because I worry that I am asking ridiculously stupid question, but regardless it is a learning experience for the both of us. The funny thing about life is, that when you picture someone  inspiring, or someone that you look up to, you never picture yourself. Ever since meeting Kayla in college, she has been someone that I have silently looked up to. She inspired me to write my blog, as she maintains her own to do with daily life and diabetes.

My biggest concern yesterday, was that I may not have passed my summer course. This was not for a lack of attending the course, as I only ever missed one or two classes, but it was evident that the course was a struggle for everyone, and I wasn't sure how I would do. It was nice to have Kayla there, to sort of pull me back down to earth, and remind me of how much I've accomplished in spite of all my obvious obstacles.

As it turns out, I had no need to worry after all! I have successfully completed a BA in English! As hard as the road has been, and as much as I spent so much time missing my Nanny in all of these 18 years, I was happy yesterday to have somebody to remind me to keep going forward, and to never doubt myself! I know that if my Nanny were still here, she'd tell me to do the very same thing!

Karli

Writing Rewind: My First Year at Fanshawe

I had intended for this article to end up in the Fanshawe College newspaper… But somehow it never ended up there. I recall being too busy to submit it… What a pity!

 The Way Things Roll

As a first-year student at Fanshawe College, I am amazed by the wonderful people and services found here. However, being a student who faces a life-long confrontation with cerebral palsy, I notice things the average student may not. 

I love to meet new people. I find, upon introducing myself, they tend to assume I am unintelligent. I know people fear what they do not understand; however, it is always more prudent to know someone before drawing such conclusions. Do not be afraid when you come across someone with a disability. We may do things different, appear different, and act different; but, never forget that age old saying, “don't judge a book by its cover.” Categories are simply limiting; life is rarely categorically simple. 
The truth is, even people with the most severe disabilities are able to communicate their intelligence and express their opinions. A little patience is all that is necessary to swim those depths with these people. You cannot deny it is nice when someone takes time out of their day to listen to what you have to say. These people are no different. Some people use communication boards, others use sign language. Disability or not, communication is always possible. If, for any reason, you still doubt our intelligence, look around, there are many of us here at Fanshawe. If we lacked intelligence, we would not be here. 

Among the things I have noticed is the difficulty in getting from here to there around the campus. There are several aspects I have noticed which contribute to this problem. 
The hallways of Fanshawe hallways are filled to the brim at the time I need them to be clear. It is no secret the hallways are so busy that extra minutes must be factored into the trek between classes. Typically, I add extra minutes on top of what you would add; but, there are still a few things that tend to slow me down. 

Groups of friends gather in the hallway while awaiting class. They are engrossed in their conversation and they fail to notice the spot which they have occupied is actually a thoroughfare. So you must be thinking; well, why don't you just say excuse me? That is the first thing out of my mouth; but, when I politely use the phrase, and then receive a look which suggests why the hell should I move for this alien, I wonder why am I being polite. 

I realize I must look like a short little alien attached to 300 pounds of metal. The truth is, I am a person too. I will always be as polite as I can, even if the favour is not returned. Now I ask you, after someone politely asks to pass, does moving out of the way have to include flashing a dirty and non-comprehensive look? 

Upon receiving this look I am inclined to barrel through. Those of you who think this is rude are in no position to judge, nor should you, lest ye be judged. For future reference, the next time you are standing in the hallway, try to leave a clear path for others. We are not as limber as you presume we should be. So… Get the hell out of the road – OR get run over! 

The next challenge of the day is the elevator. I often find myself evaluating which ones would take the least time to use. For example; I have figured out that the M elevator is much slower than the one in H. If I want to make it to a class in B on time, I do not waste my time looking for the meticulously camouflaged elevator situated at the opposing end to the entry of B building; I head straight to the one in T building. 

Although I have this down to a science, there is no guarantee it will save me any time. Some days when approaching an elevator, I find myself encircled by able-bodied people. 
I suppose to able-bodied people there is a disconnect, an ignorance or denial. I understand the convenience of taking the elevator. I have no other option, I have to take the elevator. When the elevator is full of people who are capable of using the stairs, and there is no room for a wheelchair, I am being denied the services which Fanshawe has put in place, as well as being late for a class. 

Such incidents have happened on several occasions. It is not funny to see a wheelchair stuck half-in, half-out of an elevator; some students think this is hilarious. While it is a common past-time to giggle and titter at situations which we think we will never have to encounter, I remind you of a term we `challenged` persons have for you, TABs! 

Loosely translated, TAB means Temporarily Able-Bodied persons. Your abilities are temporary: some more temporary than others. Think about it, we all end up disabled somewhere along the road of life. Car accidents, sports injuries, diseases and aging are but a few of the ways in which the playing field becomes level, for everybody. The world has a way of reminding us we are all vulnerable. 
To be honest, I would much rather spend my time climbing stairs. I, myself, would die for that chance. So the next time you feel like taking the elevator, be my guest, but make sure you are not denying the space to anyone who truly needs it. 

Finally, I arrive in class and park myself out of the way. As soon as I park, I turn into a magnet. Students and teachers seem to gravitate towards my chair, as if the whole universe spins around the centre of my chair. During lectures, teachers tend to move around the room, gradually reaching the spot in which I have parked. They use my chair as something to lean on, or just to hold on to. Students act similarly, touching my chair every time they walk past, or placing their feet on my foot rest if I sit close enough to them. 

In high school, I helped in a disabled classroom and they taught me something called "wheelchair etiquette". In short, it is not polite to lean on a person's wheelchair, or even touch it without any given consent. The chair is my personal space. WARNING, I may bite; remember, you are scared of me. 
I dislike that I am attached to a 300 pound piece of metal; but the fact is, it is a part of me. Touching someone's wheelchair without permission, is the equivalent of stepping inside an individual’s "personal bubble". After my personal bubble had been broken several times at Fanshawe, I began to ask myself why. Why are people so fascinated with the feeling of 300 pounds of scrap metal? 
I would like people to know that I much prefer a smile when acknowledging I am in a room. It is not bad to have your presence acknowledged, but there are better ways to do so than awkward physical contact. 

I would like to thank the people who help me, in big and little ways: The students who kindly open the door for me, or opt to take the stairs when they see I need the elevator: My teachers who encouraged me to write this article: My fellow wheel-bound aliens. Most especially, I need to thank the two ladies who helped me out of a snow-bank last week. I realize my college life, without the help of people who notice the small things, would be a lot more difficult. 

Finally, I'd like to thank you, the reader for taking the time to read this article. I hope it sheds a little light on the shadows which you pass in the hallway every day. We all have struggles in front of us, that`s the way we learn. I will continually be confronted with struggles as I go along, but that's just the way things roll.

Karli

The House of Blue

In my final years of high school, principal Paul McKenzie drove home the importance of community. I remember, that each student got a coloured shirt that corresponded with the alphabetical order of their last names. I remember a speech, emphasizing that we were part of a larger whole, and our goal was to make our school and community proud. We were a family.

I did my part as best I could, while I was a member of PCI. I was a good student, who got decent grades, and a strong advocate in the form of disability. I remember when I got a ramp for the courtyard, so that students in wheelchairs could also access the area. I felt a great sense of pride, not only knowing that I had achieved something for myself, but also for many students after me. When I graduated Parkside, I thought that I had done all I could for my former school. I climbed the ladder in the stages of life.

However, though I  had done my part, my family stayed with me. Every step of the way, I have had continuous support from my old high school teachers. Whether it be an introductotion to Starbucks, (thank you Mr. Lukings), baked good deliveries, coffee dates, early graduation dinners, and general inquiries about my well-being, it has all played a part in my success. When Mr. McKenzie first stressed the importance of the community, I had no idea that I would still be feeling the effects, and seeing the importance today. I have never been so honoured and glad to call myself a part of the House of Blue.

Karli

Escape

I've spent most of today re-reading Game of Thrones. Ever since I can remember, my favourite genre of reading has been fantasy. I think it's because when I was younger, I felt so different, and it was a welcome escape to get lost in the pages of books like Harry Potter, in a world outside my own. After reading Harry Potter many times over, I always found myself constantly asking the same question: "Why are there no disabled characters?" At first approach to this question, I forced myself to swallow the idea "magic heals all". However, that doesn't sit well with me anymore, so I have resolved to write JK Rowling and ask myself. It may be a long shot, but worth a try!

Game of Thrones is a different story. I love the complexity of the plot and characters. I love that the disabled/different people are still prominent figures. Bran and Tyrion are my absolute favourite characters, because in spite of their "flaws" they find ways to rise above them. Though it is fantasy, I can relate to their drive. When I turn the pages, I feel like I'm greeting friends. I feel like I don't have to go too far outside of myself to escape…

Karli

Actions Speak Louder than Words

My last post included a brief history of some words pertaining to disability. I gave the earlier periods some credit where due because they did not choose to insult people with words, they were merely looking for something to describe what they were seeing and discovering. I also express my dismay, at the fact that in some histories the word had progressed from something simple to something complicated and derogatory.

Today while going to, and while at the mall, I witnessed some behaviors that spoke louder than any history of a word. The first instance was when I was on the bus. First I had dropped my phone, and somebody was kind enough to let me know  that I had dropped it and picked it up for me. So I assumed it would be a good day. However, as soon as the bus reached the stop, the very same person that seemed eager to help me pick up a phone was eager to get out first. The bus driver had lowered the ramp in an attempt to get me off the bus first; and in spite of this every passenger pushed out before he even had the chance to unbuckle me, even with the ramp down as a clear indication of his intent. The bus driver apologized to me, and I said not to worry because it happened more frequently than he knew.

Just when the day appeared  to be redeeming itself; with polite New York Fries cooks, and excellent service at Cole's bookstore, it went sour once more. As I was weaving my way through the food court to try and find a table, I could see children staring, and parents catching them and pulling them away, telling them that it wasn't polite to stare. I even saw boyfriends pulling their girlfriends away and pointing, when they saw that I was coming in their general direction. I understand that when they do this, they are only trying to stay out of the way, but the pointing suddenly makes it so obvious that I am the only moving metal object in the room.

As for the children, I do not mind when they stare because I know they are just noticing the difference. If anything I wish that with the stare came a question, because I know children are curious and only seek to understand what they are seeing, much like the early societies within the English language. The parents could learn something from their children, as the children have a curiosity and genuine interest that their parents seem to lack. I am unsure of what adults think of when they look at me, and whether they believe any of the definitions of the words that I have defined in my last post, but one thing is for sure, their actions seem to indicate that some definitions are deep-rooted, and Are not going away anytime soon.

As much as I am bothered by encounters like this, as frequent as they seem sometimes, I realized that in spite of all of these different definitions and perceptions of disability, I am greater than each and everyone of them. Yes, I may have the legs of a cripple, but without proper use of them I have still been carried through four years of university, ridden a skidoo and the motorcycle, and much more. Yes, some people have slower of brain function than the average person, but I've seen many of those fee for that fit that definition, and still found that they have the same needs as the average person, and only a different way of communicating. There is nothing more rewarding than figuring out the way a person communicates, because then you realize that no matter how they function, they still have a valuable thing to say. Sometimes in this blog, it may seem like I'm getting really frustrated with society, and while l some cases that may be true, the only reason I share these things, is so that I can educate my friends and family, and others I care about. I only want to educate, and shed some light on my perspective, so that your actions too can speak louder than all the old and outdated definitions in the dictionary.

Karli

Sticks & Stones Haven't Reached my Bones, but Names have Historically Hurt Me

I've been recently working on this etymology assignment to trace the history of a group of five words. So  I chose to go down the route of disability. I thought the endeavor would be interesting, and it is. However, at the same time it is very frustrating. At first with words like cripple, it was easy to understand why they needed a word to describe differences within the body in the early stages of the English language. Even still, there were underlying messages about how being a cripple was negative, and undesirable. The word dwarf is meant to describe a person small in stature, and also small plants and animals. It undergoes similar negative connotations, in the sense that a Dwarf as a person is seen to be naturally smaller, and historically less significant; even in the fantasy media depictions, dwarves are meant to hide away in the mountains, well those that look more able are welcome into the light. While I do not live in the time in which these words are created, to properly understand the full reasoning behind their context, language has also done a sort of reversal.

This reversal has both are positive and negative effect. For example, the word fool went from encompassing madness, and an unwise or stupid person, to simply being  (according to the OED) a term of playful endearment, among its other meanings. The negative effect comes in the form of the word retardation. Retardation in it earliest forms, simply meant the slowing down of an object. Scientifically, and embodied a slow lapse in time, whereas musically it involves taking note downs one step lower. Only in modern-day medical and educational forms, has it adapted to mean a person's less than average mental state. I'm sure that the deciding linguists or early society meant well, but this also raises the question of who decides what is average? maybe there can be more than one average? Why does there seem to be an innate need for a lesser to exist, and be defined by word or phrase? The word retarded/ retardation, has gotten even worse as it is slung around as simply and freely as the word gay. After spending nearly 6 weeks examining the English language, and seeing its early beauty, sometimes I can't help but fear for the future.

Karli