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January 31, 2007 But what do we do?
Our generation in North America is the product of a social and educational system that worked hard to segregate people with visible differences. Children with Down Syndrome were institutionalized; schools were not built to accomodate children without full mobility, eyesight or hearing, so children who couldn't walk up or down stairs, or visually impaired children or deaf children, rarely crossed paths with children who could. Consequently, we learned two things: 1. Difference is so repulsive that, wherever possible, it ought to be segregated. 2. We also had few opportunities to learn how to think about or behave in the presence of difference in a sensitive and respectful way. I believe this will be different for our children; "mainstreaming" children who are different or disabled within regular classrooms in schools is becoming more common. This will be good for all our kids. Those who are different will not be as isolated as they were, and those who are not won't grow up with this significant mental handicap. ("What mental handicap?") When our kids point out someone who is different and wants to know why, there's no value judgement. They're curious. We're all curious; humans are a curious species. If we weren't, we wouldn't have people on the moon, machines on Mars, or Google. Curiosity is never wrong. Frances is fascinated with my insulin pump. She likes to hold it, hold the tubing, poke at the spot where it enters my skin. She is also fascinated with blood sugar testing, and likes to pretend to test her own sugar. There is no value judgement with her curiosity. She just wants to know about this thing that makes Mummy a little different. And I have no problem telling her, or talking about it as much as she likes. When someone asks me about my unusual "pager" or wants to know how long I've had the pump or have been diabetic, it's fine. Diabetes is a big part of my life. As long as it's not all they can see, curiosity is never offensive. And Frances is not offended by her daycare friends calling her "Little Frances." Not yet, anyhow. She is little, and they mean no insult by it; it's an observation, not a judgement. Now: When I tell someone about my insulin pump, and they reply, "Boy, that must mean your diabetes is pretty bad!" And when I tell them that actually no, it's just another form of treatment and a better one than shots that makes my life easier, and they reply again, "But if your diabetes was ok, you wouldn't need the pump, right? Wow! I'm so sorry!" I get irritated. Because that is a value judgement, and even when I try to educate them, they stick to their ignorant guns and keep plastering me with Noble Suffering platitudes. Or: when someone wants to know if we're going to have another child because they could end up "like Frances," as if her short stature overwhelms all consideration of the amazing and wonderful person she is, I get irritated. Because any parent would be blessed to have a child like Frances. When our child asks that loud, awkward question and we feel panicky or shamed or confused, it is our own discomfort with difference speaking; it is not a concern, primarily, with the feelings and responses of the person in question. For all of our rank individualism and our belief in the supremacy of persons, we are an incredibly conformist society. Even our rebels and iconaclasts wear uniforms. We've been taught from birth that difference should be hidden away. It's taboo. And see? I'm doing it too. "Us." "Them." "Our." "We." Why would I assume that my audience contains no one with visible differences or disabilities? Especially when I know it's not true. So: being confronted with someone who is visibly different is like coming upon someone masturbating in the bread aisle in the supermarket. Not because being different is like masturbating inappropriately but because we've (there I go again) been taught that both of those are things you do "in private." It is uncomfortable to see them in public. We don't know what to say or do or where to look. And when our kids ask us those awkward questions, we can't pretend we didn't notice. ("What is that man doing, Judy? Umm...he's...umm...peeing. Say, we forgot the jam! Let's go.") Obviously masturbating in public is something that deserves the discomfort we feel for a host of valid reasons. But being different in public does not. And it's our issue. It's our own feelings and attitudes about difference surfacing. It's not our kids, it's not the person who's different, it's us. First, we have to acknowledge that. When you see someone who is different and quickly look away, that is your own learned, unconscious response that difference is supposed to be private, segregated. When your child loudly asks, "What happened to that man's arm, Mommy?" and you shush and whisper "it's not polite to stare or point," that is your own learned, unconscious response that difference is suppposed to be private, segregated. That difference is shameful. This is not a sin. It's not a mark of personal failing or evil. It's something we were taught, powerfully and subtly. But to unlearn it, we have to acknowledge it. We have to bring it up to the light of our conscious mind and become comfortable turning it over, thoughtfully, from different angles. Only after we can do that can we start to unlearn it and get over it, and model ways of appreciating and celebrating the tremendous variety of the human form. Posted by Andrea at January 31, 2007 6:34 AM under The World EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments I grew up in a third world country were people with all types of disabilities were seen begging on the streets, especially children missing limbs or with a visible illness. This really affected me as a young child because I could not understand it and so I started to not look at people. It has taken me a long time to work through this, what has helped me a great deal is having a better understanding of the situation. Personally I don't find difference shameful, I used to find it scary and painfull. Now difference is just that different. Posted by: Bloor West Mama at January 31, 2007 8:58 AM
For three months after the birth of the boys, my left leg was paralyzed and I had to use a walker. Pretty much wherever I went, little kids stared. I was actually in the hospital, going down a hallway when I met a little boy and his dad going in the opposite direction. The dad hugged the little boy close to him like I was contagious. I'll never forget it. In fact, it's actually hard to remember it here. I think that you make a great point and one that I will remember. Posted by: Suz at January 31, 2007 9:00 AM
It's funny, b/c I have ongoing dialogue and conversations about some things - folks that are filthy, who smell, who carry their houses on their backs. Who have lost legs to mistreating diabetes or gout or other sorts of ailments. Folks who are mentally ill. Those things, it's amazing how easy it is to normalize and approach. But then things out of my comfort zone - and I think - what is the balance needed here, not an averting of the eyes, not a pretending I don't see, and hopefully not an annoying "wow, hey look at that" sort of foray into bringing it into the conversation. It's a funnybugger, this one. Like a secret everyone already knows and pretends they don't, and then moves along their way. Posted by: jen at January 31, 2007 10:35 AM
I'm always glad to hear your opinion on this topic and I have been thinking about it a lot since I last asked for your advice. I don't know whether I ever thanked you for putting in your 2...er...50 cents. It's true that what I'm most uncomfortable with is my own reaction and ensuring that I don't propogate that culture of segregation. My brother is living with a long-term disability as well as a highly stigmatising illness and, because that's within my comfort zone, I know how to talk about it with people who don't understand. I was also asked questions, repeatedly, by the same people, about whether I would have children because of the pattern of inheritance of his disorder. In fact, when I was tested to determine whether I was a carrier or not I went through a brief but tense time with my brother because he thought that I was being tested in order to determine whether I would have children, instead of just being tested so that I could be prepared for the potential steps I would have to take to ensure that any children I have would have the best possible treatment as early as possible. Sorry for the long comment. I really should have just said thank you for continuing to tackle issues like this one. Posted by: NotSoSage at January 31, 2007 10:43 AM
Different does seem to be a big problem for most of us. I think it goes way back in our genetic heritage and was a form of protection, of keeping the tribe healthy. Today that is no longer a concern but our genes haven't caught up with us yet. I was bullied for years because I was different, very tall and very skinny but I think it was more than being different that was the problem, I think a large part of it was how I thought of myself. I thought I was a victim and I think the other kids picked up on that, because I remember other kids who were different and they were not bullied. I look at my daughter who is different but doesn't see herself as a victim, or different for that matter and she is accepted. I think Frances will have the biggest impact on how people will treat her, how she feels about herself. She's got you in her corner too. Posted by: deb at January 31, 2007 11:16 AM
Integrated classrooms are a tough one. I have friends who are teachers, and they confirm what you've suggested here: from their perspective, the kids in their classrooms have learned a lot from having children with disabilities integrated into their class. At the same time, though, I read statistics about the prevalence of bullying for high-functioning autistic children, and my heart sinks. Whatever Bub's learning issues turn out to be, I suspect that he would do best in a mainstream classroom, so I'm glad that's become the status quo: it's one less thing to worry about. My sister, on the other hand, did better socially and academically in her GLD class. She still has friends today from her "special" class and high school. If she had been mainstreamed, it may well have been better for the other kids (in terms of opening their minds), but it wouldn't have been better for her. Posted by: bubandpie at January 31, 2007 12:54 PM
You know, deb, I'm not sure about that. I know that infanticide was more common prehistorically; but do we actually know what their motivations were? I know some tribes thought it was unhealthy for kids to be born with hair, and killed them; and other tribes thought twins were unhealthy, and killed them. It almost seems like we're assuming these people had values like our own and so must have punished the same forms of difference that we do. But I'm not sure about that. (By the way, this is not just in response to your comment; I've seen a lot of people write that of course we abort fetuses w/ T21, just like prehistoric people would have killed them at birth! But where is the evidence that they did any such thing?) You look at a society like the Mayans, where they flattened a newborn's head with boards and strung a bead between their eyes so they would become crossed--I don't know. B&P, I know mainstreaming doesn't work that way in the school district we live in--kids with legitimate academic needs in either direction are accomodated, either wiht separate curricula or separate classrooms. But I don't think that putting every child into the same classroom is more respectful of difference than keeping out anyone who doesn't look the same, and from what I've seen, that's not what's happening. I think it's a question of what the differences are. Recognizing a difference that creates a legitimate separate need in the appropriate context (education for children who learn differently) is not the same thing as segregating blind or deaf kids or kids in wheelchairs because we can't be bothered to build schools they can navigate. Nor is it the same thing as segregating children with Down syndrome--when you consider that some adults w/ T21 are getting Masters degrees, and I know personally of one or two who are reading at the age of four, assuming that a particular difference has a particular educational consequence or need does not make sense. Mainstreaming a child with a learning difference without making accomodations for that difference would be just like pretending Frances isn't short. Right? When she goes to school she's going to need accomodations, and she has a legal right to them. I hope the same is true of children with learning differences, including separate classrooms where warranted. But I think it is overall a very good thing that children with irrelevant non-learning differences are being accomodated within the mainstream. Posted by: Andrea at January 31, 2007 1:33 PM
I think you have an interesting point about shushing children who point out differences, that it sends the messages that differences are shameful. I've shushed my children, but usually what I say to them is that it is impolite to speak about someone as though they aren't there. I tell them that if we know the person, they can ask politely and if we don't, they can wait until we are out of earshot, and then I give a full explanation. It's the rudeness of having the kid treat someone different as though they are also deaf that bothers me. I supposed if I shushed them and then refused to speak about it later, that might send the 'differences are shameful' message. I have a lot more to say about this, and having just discussed DS and prenatal screening on my blog, I think I'll just go write it there rather than rambling on here! ;-) Posted by: N. at January 31, 2007 3:20 PM
I'm still waiting with baited breath to see how my "different" daughter fares in the mainstream kindy/school system. I worry she will be teased and I worry that she won't cope... but I'm glad she is being give a chance with the other children. It would break my heart to give up before we'd started. Posted by: em at January 31, 2007 7:07 PM
This is contrary to your feelings about hair growth as a marker of gender. I believe that when you feel like a misfit and you don't like the way the world treats you, you change the world, not yourself. Your argument for inclusion is in line with this. The world isn't accessible? Build wheelchair ramps, etc. People can't tell whether your kid is male or female, and it bugs the crap out of these people? Their problem, not yours. I'm astounded that anyone would presume you wouldn't want another kid like Frances - a kid who is in any way Franceslike. For the reason you point out, but also because just such a horrible think to think and feel, and to say. To you. Who made Frances. Posted by: ~Macarena~ at January 31, 2007 7:22 PM
This really speaks volumes to me...I've been wrestling with this very topic lately. I'm not sure how I stand on this issue--my son has many sensory issues that stand in the way of how he is able to learn and interact in his mainstreamed classroom, yet I wouldn't want him anywhere else (I don't think--see, I'm conflicted!). I know he'll always be viewed as a little different, or at the best "quirky"--it's hard enough for me sometimes to turn that over in my own mind, I know it will be hard for others as well--but it really shouldn't be. Posted by: Aliki at January 31, 2007 9:13 PM
I'm new to this blog and loving it, and I'm following this discussion with fascination. Just three comments, if you will allow a newbie: Posted by: MaryG at January 31, 2007 10:30 PM
Macarena, do you think so? Re: being inconsistent. If you feel like elaborating I'd like to hear it. Mary, thank you, and welcome. 1. Maybe, maybe not. Her flushing might be a clue that she's not comfortable with her difference being noted but the child has not actually done anything wrong, IMO, and shushing could send the message that she has. What if the mother said, "I don't think she's comfortable with you talking about her that way. Let's talk about something else." 2. That's true--that's what I'm hoping for Frances, too. 3. Certainly there would be increased challenges. My understanding is that educational aides are often in the classroom to provide that support to both the teacher and the student, when required. However, I don't think anyone wants the teachers to drown--but at the same time, any solution that depends on hurting the kids is, IMO, unacceptable. Posted by: Andrea at February 1, 2007 10:07 AM
God, Andrea, have I told you lately how much I totally love you? You are a goddess. Posted by: yankee,transferred at February 1, 2007 10:22 AM
I hope you don't mind if I point a lot more readers here. Your essays on disability and difference are absolutely wonderful. And the writing! So: being confronted with someone who is visibly different is like coming upon someone masturbating in the bread aisle in the supermarket. Funnier than hell and perceptive and to the point. OK, I'm through inflating your ego for now. ;-) Posted by: Sandy D. at February 1, 2007 12:59 PM
Whoosh, there goes my head again. Posted by: Andrea at February 1, 2007 2:10 PM
Wonderfully and clearly put. I think along these lines whenever someone states s/he is "colourblind," effectively erasing the existence of any non-whites in the room. Posted by: cheesefairy at February 2, 2007 1:54 PM
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