I’m consistently amazed
and horrified at how many of my personal successes have come out of moments of
uncertainty. My childhood, loving and wonderful though it might have been, was
littered with all manner of potential catastrophes many of which were
unfortunately realized. The very fact that I am sitting in an office on this
Monday morning, working in my near dream job, typing out this blog post is by
itself a convergence of the near impossible. I was born with a disease which
carries with it severe and lasting consequences. Reaching school age, I was
entered into a system which minimized my potential, and turned my disability
into a source of self-doubt and unease. I was taught to hate myself, faced with
near daily confirmations from my peers that I was neither welcome nor wanted. School
was undeniably brutal, and had I dropped out I think few would have blamed me. I
was submitted to the very worst kind of social education, one in which I was
lead to doubt my full worth as a human being, and the very fact I survived long
enough to reject that cruel proposition will be a lifelong source of pride. It
was incredible as it was unlikely. Still, I think it far less a testament to my
own personal strength as a conformation that I was supported by many amazing,
lifesaving people. My mother, my mentors, and my friends enabled me to subsist
even as I lived through some truly terrible circumstances, their love
bolstering and supporting me at every stumble.
There is a sad truth
behind this history however, an alternate ending to this story which for many
becomes an inescapable reality. There are many strong, young disabled people
who crumble under the gravity of their own circumstance, without support or
affirmation. It was more by luck then by providence that I avoided just such a
collapse. I very nearly withdrew from high school, and joined a generation of
young people with disabilities who abandoned long held goals out of sheer
desperation. It is no coincidence that the graduation rates for the disabled
remain far behind the national standard, but the result of a systematic attack
so ingrained in our ablest society.
High School for those
within the traditional norm is difficult enough, for those with often profound
physical or intellectual challenges it can be intolerable. Once we do drop out,
we enter into a system of family and societal dependence, dimming our talents
and ambitions in favor of the security of stagnation. It’s a cruel system,
often leaving young people adrift without a clear path to a sound, and
independent future. Perhaps it’s precisely because I can remember my mother
begging me to drop out of high school that I feel such a profound obligation to
help young people with disabilities. Last week I was able to speak directly to dozens
of young, disabled students in a new and exciting manner, and was enabled in
some small way to meet that personal obligation.
As my last post got into in more detail, helping to
staff the Iowa Youth Leadership Forum was one of the more incredible parts of
my internship. YLF is an incredible event. A weeklong meeting of young people
with disabilities, YLF is a comprehensive look towards the future, a collection
of trainings and discussions that enable delegates to confidently work to transcend
the many challenges that may come with their disability. So, as a huge fan of
this important program, it was an absolute privilege to be able to go around
the state and talk to students about all the ways YLF could help them as they
transition out of high school. It was an adventure to say the least, and I
couldn’t have had the experience without the dedication and help of Mike
Williams. Formerly the Disability Consultant and organizer for Iowa’s YLF, he
recently moved on to become the current CAP representative for the state. He
has been an invaluable resource for me as I try and learn my way around
advocacy work and I’m incredibly grateful he’s been so invested in my
internship and its success. Mike could easily have excluded me from the trip,
but instead he went to great lengths to make sure I would be able to tag along.
Renting an accessible van, he went out of his way to help me fully understand
his work, and made sure to put me through my paces as we traveled from school
to school. I haven’t really talked about Mike much in this blog, and I’ll
probably devote a whole post to his work before all is said and done. But I’ll
just say here that his dedication and his huge heart have made this internship
all the richer. I can’t help but feel secure in my future with him on my side,
and as he moves on to the CAP program I know YLF will be losing an incredible
advocate and organizer.
Spending a week with Mike touring the state was a
blast, and his enthusiasm is entirely contagious. Our week was entirely packed,
and we were able to speak with over a hundred special education students across
northwestern Iowa. We visited schools and vocational rehabilitation centers,
hoping to sow enthusiasm within both the student population as well foster
collaboration with VR counselors for the YLF program. Based out of our hotel in
Sioux City we visited high schools large and small, talking with students about
their needs and how YLF can help them establish their future. I’d be lying if I
said it wasn’t at times challenging. Whether it was trying to hold the
attention of sometimes cynical teenagers, or dealing with the rare but
incredibly frustrating disinvested Special Ed teacher, I learned a great deal.
Talking with Vocational Rehabilitation counselors, I grew to better understand
their work and the ways YLF enables their clients to meet their employment
goals. It was a great week. But of course, my experience is secondary.
The trip was meant to help students understand how
YLF will help them bridge the often intimidating chasm between high school and
independence. The occasional moments of true connection I felt with the
students made our trip worthwhile, especially if I was able to attract their
attention and interest in YLF. I shared my story of frustration and the very
real possibility that if not for a few areas of support I would not be sitting
in front of them. I very nearly dropped out of high school and abandoned my
deal of a college education and a meaningful career. I’ve been incredibly
lucky, but I don’t want young disabled people to depend on luck simply to have
agency over their lives. I want them to feel secure in their future and
themselves as individuals, and I fully believe YLF is a direct path to gaining
that secure sense of self. My trip with Mr. Williams is exactly the kind of
foundation that leads to a successful YLF, and I can’t wait to speak with more
students about what I believe is one of the most impactful programs offered by
the state for young people with disabilities.
