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The Experience of Being Different:
Living with Disabilities
A Sermon Given
by Rev. Roger Fritts
November 9, 1997
at Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
Bethesda, Maryland
Last summer when I was in Phoenix for the Unitarian Universalist General
Assembly, I drove by my old grade school. Built in the 1950s to house more
than 800 children, the buildings are still there. However, they are no longer
painted the shades of yellow and green I remember as a child. Memories came
flooding back, many of which were not pleasant.
I could see my second grade classroom. It was there when I was 8 that I began
to fall behind the other students when it came to spelling. I remember studying
the words the night before the test, yet the next day I would receive a D
or an F. My teacher told me to stop being so lazy and to work harder, like
the other students. The other students pointed out the irrigation ditch visible
from the window and announced that I would be a ditch digger when I grew
up.
In third grade, my teacher tried bribes, passing out candy to those who did
well in spelling. I found that if I worked harder, I could remember the spelling
of most of the words the day of the test. However, when we went back for
review, I had forgotten most of what I had learned. The problem continued
into fourth, fifth, and sixth grade. Nothing seemed to help, not special
tutors, not experimental teaching methods, and not even efforts to get me
to learn by humiliating me in front of other students.
Today teachers would diagnose me as suffering from dyslexia, which the dictionary
defines as difficulty in learning to read or spell, despite otherwise normal
intellectual functions. Other symptoms include the reversal of words and
numbers in a person's speech. It is why I occasionally announce the wrong
hymn number.
Found three times more often in boys than in girls, the disorder often runs
in families. Both my father and my younger brother also had difficulty spelling
in school. Many dyslexics continue to read and spell poorly throughout their
lifetime. We frequently score above average on nonverbal tests of intelligence.
The cause of dyslexia is unknown. Recent research points to anomalies in
the respective functioning of the left and right hemispheres of the brain
as possibly being the cause of the disorder, but a conclusive explanation
has yet to be found.
However, 35 years ago most people felt that the cause of my inability to
spell was simple laziness. Emotionally, it was painfully embarrassing as
I struggled to spell words and attempted to take tests. In high school, I
had enormous difficulty in many classes, failing both French and typing and
barely passing in English.
Later in college, I dated only women who could type and spell and would help
me with my papers. After failing Spanish and German, I majored in political
science because it had no foreign language requirement.
However, I want no pity from anyone.
Although I was unable to spell, I had no problem with reading and little
difficulty speaking. I developed a passion for words, an appreciation of
language, and a profound concern for accuracy in communication that I might
have missed if perfectly healthy. Starting when I was 9 years old, I read
two or three books every week, and still today, reading is one of my greatest
pleasures. In high school, I excelled in speech class, receiving A's every
semester.
Eventually I became a preacher. It appeared to me that in most professions,
the ability to spell was a necessity. However, the ministry was primarily
about thinking, studying, and speaking-- skills I had in abundance.
As a young minister, a breakthrough in my life came in 1982, when the price
of computers dropped to the point that I could afford. The computer, with
its ability to correct spelling, is to me what a wheelchair is to a person
with disabled legs. With a computer, I have been able not only to write sermons,
but also to write and publish a book, which is today on sale at Borders.
Writing a book was something I never dreamed that I could have done until
I had the aid of a computer.
I owe my love of words and my calling as a minister to my disability. And
whatever small understanding I have about what it is like to have a disability,
I owe to my dyslexia.
Nevertheless, my own struggles have always seemed minor. In my role as a
minister, I have come to believe that we all have disabilities. Some of us
are born with them, others of us develop them because of an accident or because
of age. Some of us can hide our disability, as I can often hide my dyslexia;
for others of us, our disability is obvious to every stranger. I have come
to have enormous respect for many different disabilities with which people
have come to cope. In response to my request in the church newsletter for
your own experiences with disabilities, several of you have come by my office
and we have had good conversations. I also received many moving letters and
phone calls. Given the limitations of time, I cannot share every letter I
received. However, each letter, each conversation helped me learn more about
how to treat every person with dignity. For example, one person wrote:
| My daughter has congenital cerebral palsy. As a child she was in a
soccer helmet and leg-braces and walked with canes or small tripods. In parks
and playgrounds before she started school, other little kids would come up
to her, if their parents let them. In friendly curiosity they asked her if
she broke her legs or "Why do you do have those canes?" or "What's wrong
with your legs?" Natural curiosity, since it is natural, is okay, is best,
and in the end produces people comfortable with their handicapped brethren.
My daughter would answer, "I was born this way," or "They help me walk,"
and the like, and with their natural and friendly curiosity satisfied, the
kids would go on to play together. No big deal. However, if the kids were
accompanied by parents, the parents would say, "Shush, don't ask her. You'll
hurt her feelings!" Or just lead the kid away from my daughter.
The problem here is the parents. They are teaching their children a lifetime
of aversive, turning-away behaviors. In other words, the natural friendly
curiosity is best. Bite your lip, Parents, and let your children ask. Teasing
no, asking yes! |
One person told me that saying that "this child's disability is God's gift
to you" does not help. She wrote:
| I don't think my child's disability is a gift from God. I think it
is a pain. I would have given anything in this world to have a normal daughter.
. . . Every time I see her I am reminded that I can go to Saks Fifth Avenue
and I can dress her up as a china doll but she will still be a speech-impaired,
fifteen-year-old little girl who acts like a four-year-old. |
The idea that God controls everything that happens makes people hate God
or hate themselves. I believe that God exists, but I do not believe that
God is all-powerful.
It often hurts when we express pity. For example, when we say to the parent
of a child with a disability "Oh, poor you, what a burden!" or "How pitiful
that your child has a disability and what a terrible burden you have to bear,"
many parents respond with anger. Often parents of children with disabilities
are angry. One parent wrote:
| I don't even like the looks I get from people. I don't like to be
looked at with a look of sympathy or pity, the look that says, "You poor
person, how glad I am I don't have your problems." |
My goal is the integration of people with disabilities into the life of our
community. This requires that I learn to feel comfortable with people who
are different. This requires that I be vulnerable. It requires that I examine
my feelings and prejudices. It requires that I be willing to learn and change.
If I can be open in these ways, I can make life easier for persons who are
disabled. And I can better accept myself and my own disabilities.
One person with a disability said to me:
| I have much more in common with other people than I have differences.
I want people to focus on what we hold in common and spend time trying to
get to know the essence of who I am. I do not want to be understood only
as a disabled person, which I am not, nor do I want to be seen as this wonderful
courageous person, which I am not. I want people to get to know my personhood
with my strengths and weaknesses. And I will try to treat them with the same
respect. |
Another person, who works with people who have disabilities, said:
| I want to clarify my use of the word "individual," instead of client,
resident, consumer, patient, program participant, and so on. I strongly believe
that when people use the labels, the labels become symbols of an inequity
of power. If one is a client, they are seen as being lower in status, abilities,
etc. I do not believe that I am any better than anyone with a disability.
I believe that no matter what disability, all are able to learn. They may
learn in a different way, but it is the job of the "professional" to find
out how they learn. |
This openness is a religious point of view. It is symbolized by the openness
of Jesus to people with disabilities in the Gospel stories. A woman who works
with persons with disabilities put it this way:
| I view everyone individually. The phrase the Quakers use is "That
of God, in them." What I look for is the potential in each person, and I
work with that. I don't see the disability as a limitation. It is a hindrance,
but not a limitation.
When I first started working, I thought I was going to have real problems
with persons who had severe and profound disabilities, but I didn't. I see
the twinkle in somebody's eye and I say to myself, "That is it! There is
a person in there." This is what I look for, that person. There is something
in there. There is a spark that reaches out. If you can see it, which is
what I think my religious background has brought me to be able to do, it
is not difficult. I just ignore or work with some of the outer stuff that's
getting in the way. |
No one in the church shared with me any miracle story about themselves or
a member of their family. However, several persons shared with me stories
of how you or a member of your family was able to adjust to their disability.
For example, one of you wrote,
| Our son was born with multiple handicaps. He did not walk until over
three years of age, and then with a very unsteady and halting gait. But worse,
his hands shook so that he had difficulty handling eating utensils or any
small objects. We could not even determine whether he would have been naturally
right- or left-handed.
He loved mathematics, but he was unable to write his equations legibly.
He poked them out, slowly, laboriously, on his electric typewriter with one
finger of his left hand. One needs only to try this to appreciate what a
chore it can be. Nevertheless, he received straight A's in math and was elected
to the National High School and Junior College Mathematics Honors Club for
superior achievement.
He received his B.A. at American University and became a computer expert
in the A.U. Library. He was working toward his Master's Degree in Library
Science at Catholic University when he died just before his 30th birthday. |
I found another story of adjustment in a letter by another member of this
church. This parent wrote:
| Some have said that raising a child with mental retardation, my son's
disability, is a "condition of chronic sorrow." Indeed, in his early years,
that seemed to be true. Now, however, the sorrow has diminished, and there
are small joys that bring my feelings into balance. The joy of his smile;
his happiness over home visits; his pride in doing things for himself; his
enjoyment in seeing his brother, David; and his joy in taking long walks
in the park are all special events for me. He has helped me to develop patience,
understanding, an enjoyment of nature (because he loves the outdoors in all
weather), and an appreciation of him, above all, as the unique and very special
person he is. For all of these things, I am thankful. |
This is something religion can teach us. Religion at its best teaches us
about the dignity and the sacredness of every person. Whatever our disabilities,
each of us is a miracle. Each of us is a unique and special creature. We
have the right to be appreciated on our own merits.
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