Julie Seedorf, Something About Nothing

Have you ever been lonely? Rafe (not his real name) knows what loneliness is. He feels it every day as he sits down in the cafeteria to eat his lunch. His teenage classmates pass by and high five him. They ask, “How ya doin’, Rafe?” as they continue on to their table to sit with their friends not waiting to hear the answer. Rafe continues to sit alone.

Rafe is in senior high, but his best friends are in fifth and sixth grade. You see, Rafe is handicapped. He has been this way since birth. He can’t walk without the aid of a wheelchair. For what few steps he can take, he needs assistance. Rafe also cannot speak clearly so you have to listen carefully to understand what he is saying. Rafe’s coordination is not always what we would consider good.

It hasn’t always been this difficult for Rafe. Before high school and before kids got older and more involved in their teenage years, they used to fight to push his wheelchair. Kids would sit with him and include him in the conversation. His teachers in grade school would make a point to teach the class about people with disabilities so they had a sensitivity to what Rafe was managing in his life.

I have met Rafe. He is a friend of mine. My first impression of this young man was not his disabled body or his difficulty with speech; it was his eyes and his smile. Rafe’s smile melted my heart the first time I met him. Rafe’s excitement and interest in computers awed me. Here was this young man who had been through so much and sometimes has problems learning, but he loves computers. His disability is not stopping him from having fun with technology.

I must admit I am not always comfortable around someone who is handicapped because I am not sure how to act. I don’t want to offend them, and I want to make them feel comfortable, but sometimes I don’t know how to do it. The easier way for me to remove my discomfort is to remove myself from the situation. I suspect this is possibly what Rafe’s classmates are doing.

Rafe loves video games, and he is good at them. His fifth- and sixth-grade friends spend time challenging him with his games. Rafe doesn’t complain about being alone, but his mom sees the sadness in his eyes. Her eyes mirror the hurt she feels when this happens.

When Rafe’s mom lobbied for better handicapped parking, someone told her she was lucky. Someone told this mother that she was lucky because now she would be able to park closer to a building and the able-bodied person that made the statement was upset because they would now have to walk a little farther. Rafe’s mother’s answer was, “Yes, I am lucky to have a handicapped child.” With that answer, I know she meant those words.

What do we teach our children about those kids who can’t walk and can’t talk as well as we do? What do we teach our children about those kids who have special needs and attend school with our children? Do we complain about having special-needs kids in the same classroom? Do we talk to our kids about tolerance and acceptance? Do we even think of these children at all as we go about our busy lives?

I have to be honest and tell you, I don’t remember what I taught my children. I don’t remember if the subject even came up during their high school years. And as a parent I don’t know if my children treated those with disabilities with kindness and compassion. I am ashamed to admit that after meeting Rafe and his mother. The simple answer is, “I didn’t think.”

After meeting Rafe, if I had it all to do over again, I would talk to my children when they were young and when they were teenagers about kindness, compassion and friendship with those kids who are different because of their disabilities.

If someone chooses to not share my table, and I am left alone, I can get up and move. Many kids can’t. Special-needs children are dependent on the kindness and compassion of others to help them to live their lives doing the simple things that we take for granted such as moving to another table.

If you meet someone with a disability take the time to look past their inability to walk or talk or even hold their head up and look into their eyes. Talk to their caretaker. Treat them with kindness and don’t be afraid. Inside their body they are just like you and me with feelings and friendship to offer.

I leave you with excerpts from part of a letter this mother wrote a few years ago after hearing negative comments about special needs kids in school. She gave me permission to share this with you.

“As a parent of a child with disabilities I have been introduced to a whole new world of experiences. I probably never would voluntarily be a parent of a disabled child, but now that I am, I wouldn’t trade my child for a million dollars. I believe that special-needs kids add so much to the classroom. Any parent who believes special-needs kids should be in a classroom by themselves has never spent any time getting to know some very unique individuals who attend school. Parents of typical developing children shouldn’t feel special-needs kids take away from their child’s education. I believe special-needs kids add a new dimension of tolerance, acceptance and love for others. I believe all kids are special, have needs unique to themselves and they all deserve a good education. Yes, it is a little extra work for all of us, but if we forget ourselves and help others, this will be a much better world for all of us.”

Wells resident Julie Seedorf’s column appears every Monday. Send e-mail to her at thecolumn@bevcomm.net. Her blog is paringdown.wordpress.com. Listen to KBEW AM radio 1:30 p.m. Sundays for “Something About Nothing.”