Disability camp starts today, and the biggest part of me wants to be a counselor this week rather than in the kitchen. This camp allows kids/young adults who have various impairments such as autism, downs syndrome, behavioral complications, and cognitive delays to broadly name a few, to attend camp for free. The campers who attend this 3 day camp don’t get to do some of these activities on a regular basis as many of us take advantage of getting into the wilderness, breaking from the pressures and social norms of day to day living. Camp gives these kids the opportunity to live without judgment of their peers for a few days, to learn that regardless of their circumstances that they are loved by God and are highly favored in his eyes, just as we all are. Activities this week will include lots of singing, playing games, a hay ride to the barn to pet goats and horses, Bible study and so much more. This is my favorite week, the hardest week because quite a few of us are uncomfortable, unfamiliar being around someone who communicates through quoting movies or is completely nonverbal, bites and kicks and screams because the synapsis are misfiring or chromosomes aren’t formed correctly. This week stretches you as a human, it reveals your character in ways you never thought possible.
Ever since I can remember there has been a special place in my heart for these kids. I cringe at the terminology associated with disabled individuals and I often, trying to be politically correct, fumble my words when speaking about this subject. Even now, I feel I am being offensive so I apologize if the words on this page are taken in offense. In elementary school there was a girl in my class that would come for certain subjects throughout the day but would spend the majority of her time in the Special Ed classroom. I don’t remember how it worked itself out but I remember that during recess and maybe free time in the classroom, I was allowed to go into the Special Ed class and work with this student in her life skills development, and play with her and the awesome toys in the room. I don’t tell you this to boast but to share a piece of me, who I am, and the things that I deeply care about. In college I took a few courses on Exceptional Children, and one of those classes was a lab where I was paired up with a rare gem. Non-verbal, nearly blind, cognitively 18 months old in the body of a 5 year old, I would sit in her preschool class and we would play, we would laugh. We would work on activities of daily living that to you and I come as second nature, it’s automatic for us to lift the spoon to our mouths.
Here comes the rage. It makes me angry that anyone should think less of people whose daily struggles are in many ways much more obvious than the trials we face in secret. They feel. They dream. They love. It wasn’t that long ago that babies who were born with noticeable abnormalities were left in the woods, locked in dark cellars or killed to keep them out of society. Then when it was socially unacceptable to do that, we institutionalized them. Society has since come a long way, yes, but we have so much further to go in our acceptance of differentness.
Rachel
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