Sidewalks are a typical part of my day; I travel upon them on a daily basis. However, I cannot just cruise along on any given sidewalk without thinking ahead or have the understanding that I may end up needing to alter my path of travel. When it comes to sidewalks, the United States is one of the more modernized countries, but still has a long way to go to be completely accessible to all.
The Federal law here in the states mandates that every time an area of road is renovated, the sidewalks must be updated as well. This is a law with good intentions, and for the most part does keep sidewalks and curb cuts up to date. However, there are sidewalks that are terrible and fall through the cracks of being updated and are left in an unacceptable state, while sidewalks and curb cuts on main roads are replaced time and time again. I have come across many places that are lacking a curb cut altogether.
It is frustrating, as a person in a wheelchair, to see curb cuts that already exist being updated, while there are places I cannot travel because there is not a curb cut out at all. I am grateful that towns and cities are required to update curb cuts as some could be potentially hazardous, but I do not understand how even those can be updated while there are still places that the sidewalk ends without providing equal access for all people to enter or exit the sidewalk.
It is entertaining when one side of the street has curb cuts, but the other does not. There are situations when the sidewalk on one side of the street has curb cuts, but then there not be a curb cut on the other side of the intersection and not be able to continue venturing on the sidewalk; instead, I must travel in the street alongside cars. Another scenario is when I approach the end of the sidewalk and find there is no curb cut, but across the way -- on the other side of the intersection -- there is a beautiful curb cut waiting to be used. This usually leads to me finding a driveway in order to exit the sidewalk or I will completely backtrack all the way back to the previous curb cut where I had entered this section of the sidewalk.
Here in Bellingham, there are many places where the sidewalk ends. On my walks I have encountered the sidewalk end when venturing past the public library. The block of the library has curb cuts, but a block away does not. When walking along State Street there is a bridge; at one end of this bridge, there is not a curb cut, but there is on the other side of the street. When wanting to enter or exit the north side of this bridge, there is a way to do so; at the west side of the bridge, there is a makeshift gravel pathway. This is not the most comfortable pathway, and if a person's wheelchair does not have good traction, I would not recommend this route of travel. There are also multiple neighborhoods that are not completely accessible with curb cut equipped sidewalks. In these neighborhoods, there are blocks that have sidewalks with curb cuts, then a block with out curb cuts, and then stretches without sidewalks at all; I do however prefer roads that do not have sidewalks at all over roads with sidewalks that do not have curb cuts as I do not have to end up backtracking.
Bellingham is not the only place that I have encountered the lack of curb cuts; there are many towns and cities that I have traveled to that have sidewalks that just end. This needs to change. I understand that there is a law that mandates the upgrading of sidewalks only when the road is being updated, but what about the sidewalks that still have not been updated since the law was put into action? Just because the road has not been updated should not mean sidewalks without curb cuts should sit without renovation for years while there are curb cuts being updated that are just fine. It would be amazing to go anywhere in the United States and not have to worry about something as simple as eight inches of concrete standing in my way in continuing on toward my destination.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
The Solo School Cripple: Being Successful When No One Looked Like Me
I belong to a minority group that is one of the smallest minorities in the United States; along with approximately .6 percent of the US population, I am a wheelchair user. I have grown up in a community greatly lacking in people, especially mentors, that "look like me". I have never had a teacher that looks like me, not in elementary school, not in middle school, not in high school, and not in college.
There has never once been a time in the history of my elementary, middle nor high school career that there was an administrator, school counselor, secretary, school nurse, or coach that looked like me; it was not until my senior year in college that the DisAbilities Resources for Students (DRS) hired a counselor "who looked like me", and by this time, I was no longer in need of a mentor; I had made it though school, had formed my dreams and was (and still am) in the process of pursuing and achieving them.
There are not many people that surround me, in my daily life, that share the commonality of being in a wheelchair. Over the years, I have formed a community of fellow wheelchair users; however, we are spread out far and wide and not in each others' daily lives. I, on a daily basis, can see in passing up to about three people who are also in wheelchairs, but usually I am the only one. When I went to Western, it was possible to run across a couple more in one day, but there were only about six students in wheelchairs during my time there, and the campus is a small location. My final quarter at Western, I even had a class with another student who used a wheelchair.
When I was in grade school, I was the only student who used a wheelchair; when I was in middle school, I was the only student who used a wheelchair; and, up until my senior year in high school, I was the only student who used a wheelchair (with the exception of students who became injured and temporarily used one). I never knew an older student in a wheelchair who was in the Bellingham School District who I could talk to face to face.
So, to say my experience of seeing other students in wheelchairs in an academic setting was quite rare, is not exaggerating the truth; yes, this really has to do with there being so few of us, at least in the elementary, middle, and high school years. However, there only being ONE wheelchair user that could be considered a mentor during my nineteen years of schooling, would by other standards be unacceptable -- especially at the high school I went to.
When I attended Squalicum High School, there was a huge focus on hiring a diverse population of teachers, administrators and staff; this was to make sure students could go to someone "who looked like them", and would feel welcome. However, talk of hiring a person with a disability, let alone someone in a wheelchair -- never came into the conversation. This possibly had to do with there being too small of a population of us in wheelchairs to establish a need for hiring a person in a wheelchair. However, if a school is going to work so hard at helping one minority feel welcome and encourage them to be successful by hiring someone "who looks like them", then they need to do this for ALL minorities, even if it will only benefit a handful of students.
That said, I made it though the ranks without an academic mentor "who looked like me". I never found a mentor in the academic setting who totally got my exact needs and struggles, as they had not faced them firsthand. Never the less, I did come across many spectacular mentors who cared about me, who pushed me and helped me to become the best that I could be. I did not need a mentor who "looked like me", I needed mentors who looked at me as a person and took the time to invest in me.
So, to anyone who feels like no one gets you because your life is so different than anyone else's around you, stop pitying yourself; you are only making the situation -- you think to be so horrible --even worse. Realize that there are people around you who do care about you, even if they do not "look like you" or completely understand you. We all are people, but each and everyone of us is different; everyone is unique, and everyone has a different story full of unique -- and sometimes even terrible and hurtful -- experiences. So if you are struggling, let those around you who care help you be successful even if they may not completely understand you.
There has never once been a time in the history of my elementary, middle nor high school career that there was an administrator, school counselor, secretary, school nurse, or coach that looked like me; it was not until my senior year in college that the DisAbilities Resources for Students (DRS) hired a counselor "who looked like me", and by this time, I was no longer in need of a mentor; I had made it though school, had formed my dreams and was (and still am) in the process of pursuing and achieving them.
There are not many people that surround me, in my daily life, that share the commonality of being in a wheelchair. Over the years, I have formed a community of fellow wheelchair users; however, we are spread out far and wide and not in each others' daily lives. I, on a daily basis, can see in passing up to about three people who are also in wheelchairs, but usually I am the only one. When I went to Western, it was possible to run across a couple more in one day, but there were only about six students in wheelchairs during my time there, and the campus is a small location. My final quarter at Western, I even had a class with another student who used a wheelchair.
When I was in grade school, I was the only student who used a wheelchair; when I was in middle school, I was the only student who used a wheelchair; and, up until my senior year in high school, I was the only student who used a wheelchair (with the exception of students who became injured and temporarily used one). I never knew an older student in a wheelchair who was in the Bellingham School District who I could talk to face to face.
So, to say my experience of seeing other students in wheelchairs in an academic setting was quite rare, is not exaggerating the truth; yes, this really has to do with there being so few of us, at least in the elementary, middle, and high school years. However, there only being ONE wheelchair user that could be considered a mentor during my nineteen years of schooling, would by other standards be unacceptable -- especially at the high school I went to.
When I attended Squalicum High School, there was a huge focus on hiring a diverse population of teachers, administrators and staff; this was to make sure students could go to someone "who looked like them", and would feel welcome. However, talk of hiring a person with a disability, let alone someone in a wheelchair -- never came into the conversation. This possibly had to do with there being too small of a population of us in wheelchairs to establish a need for hiring a person in a wheelchair. However, if a school is going to work so hard at helping one minority feel welcome and encourage them to be successful by hiring someone "who looks like them", then they need to do this for ALL minorities, even if it will only benefit a handful of students.
That said, I made it though the ranks without an academic mentor "who looked like me". I never found a mentor in the academic setting who totally got my exact needs and struggles, as they had not faced them firsthand. Never the less, I did come across many spectacular mentors who cared about me, who pushed me and helped me to become the best that I could be. I did not need a mentor who "looked like me", I needed mentors who looked at me as a person and took the time to invest in me.
So, to anyone who feels like no one gets you because your life is so different than anyone else's around you, stop pitying yourself; you are only making the situation -- you think to be so horrible --even worse. Realize that there are people around you who do care about you, even if they do not "look like you" or completely understand you. We all are people, but each and everyone of us is different; everyone is unique, and everyone has a different story full of unique -- and sometimes even terrible and hurtful -- experiences. So if you are struggling, let those around you who care help you be successful even if they may not completely understand you.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Cripple Etiquette: Letting Common Vernacular Slide
I love being outdoors, love going on adventures, and love going for walks. As a person who is unable to drive a car, I rely heavily on my wheelchair to get me from place to place, so it is a good thing that I love being outside and going for walks.
One thing that I do not like, however, is when people correct me when I say, "I walked to the store," or "I took a walk through the park"; they reply with, "you mean you rolled." When saying this, they are one hundred percent serious when correcting me as if I do not know what I am talking about. It does not bother me if someone is being sarcastic and does not say it every time I mention that I walked somewhere.
The reason that it bothers me is that saying "I walked" is common vernacular. I am not oblivious to the fact that I cannot physically walk, but for me or anyone else who is unable to walk, saying, "I went for a walk," is a common way of describing travel; it is like a blind person saying, "I see," when expressing that they understand something, or just like a person who is not in a wheelchair saying, "I am on a roll," when expressing that they are in a rhythm when getting something done.
People focus too much on words, and not enough on their actions. Society needs to stop being nit-picky about language, but instead focus on how one treats others; if society begins treating people with dignity and respect, then one's language will follow. If society focuses on treating people with disabilities with equality, allowing those who are in wheelchairs to say, "I walked," there will no longer be an issue and it will not prompt people to feel like it is necessary to correct a person in a wheelchair when they share that they walked somewhere. If it is typical for a person to say, "I walked...," and if people with disabilities are people, then their language will naturally include words like walk in their vocabulary.
Those of us in wheelchairs are going to continue to use the word walk; and it is not that we do not understand that we physically roll from place to place, but that we are people and can use the same vernacular as everyone else around us. So please, do not correct a person in a wheelchair who says, "I walked...," or some version of that phrase and, please do not feel bad or change your language when talking about walking somewhere with a person in a wheelchair.
One thing that I do not like, however, is when people correct me when I say, "I walked to the store," or "I took a walk through the park"; they reply with, "you mean you rolled." When saying this, they are one hundred percent serious when correcting me as if I do not know what I am talking about. It does not bother me if someone is being sarcastic and does not say it every time I mention that I walked somewhere.
The reason that it bothers me is that saying "I walked" is common vernacular. I am not oblivious to the fact that I cannot physically walk, but for me or anyone else who is unable to walk, saying, "I went for a walk," is a common way of describing travel; it is like a blind person saying, "I see," when expressing that they understand something, or just like a person who is not in a wheelchair saying, "I am on a roll," when expressing that they are in a rhythm when getting something done.
People focus too much on words, and not enough on their actions. Society needs to stop being nit-picky about language, but instead focus on how one treats others; if society begins treating people with dignity and respect, then one's language will follow. If society focuses on treating people with disabilities with equality, allowing those who are in wheelchairs to say, "I walked," there will no longer be an issue and it will not prompt people to feel like it is necessary to correct a person in a wheelchair when they share that they walked somewhere. If it is typical for a person to say, "I walked...," and if people with disabilities are people, then their language will naturally include words like walk in their vocabulary.
Those of us in wheelchairs are going to continue to use the word walk; and it is not that we do not understand that we physically roll from place to place, but that we are people and can use the same vernacular as everyone else around us. So please, do not correct a person in a wheelchair who says, "I walked...," or some version of that phrase and, please do not feel bad or change your language when talking about walking somewhere with a person in a wheelchair.
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