My mother drove the bus that transported students with disabilities to and from school each day of the school year. To be honest I remember being afraid, I did not understand why some children had to sit in wheel chairs or why they had braces on their legs. The fear I experienced was not one of the difference between our education, form of transportation and their inability to communicate with me at times. My fear was encouraged by the thoughts of a young child wondering what they did to become the way I viewed them, and could this happen to me. I rode the bus with my mother for a long time before I worked up enough courage to ask questions concerning the students and why they were different from me. My mother was not a person who held anything back and briefly explained in her way, that the children all suffered from some type of disability and needed special help. With that being said, my mother politely asked me to hush up and stop asking questions about things that did not concern me. I never gave their disabilities another thought, I was immuned to the differences between us due to the amount of time I spent with them. The first wave of sadness I felt for children with disabilities was when I accompanied my mother into a school to assist a new student onto her bus when a classmate of mine asked why I was with the weird kids. The insult hurt me more than the other child I was with. I truly believe from that moment in my life I had an overwhelming obligation to protect anyone who was the object of ridicule due to their disabilities. That particular day, as a young child, changed my view of the world around me and led down the path I still follow today, a friend, caregiver, and future educator of the disabled
My mother drove the bus that transported students with disabilities to and from school each day of the school year. To be honest I remember being afraid, I did not understand why some children had to sit in wheel chairs or why they had braces on their legs. The fear I experienced was not one of the difference between our education, form of transportation and their inability to communicate with me at times. My fear was encouraged by the thoughts of a young child wondering what they did to become the way I viewed them, and could this happen to me. I rode the bus with my mother for a long time before I worked up enough courage to ask questions concerning the students and why they were different from me. My mother was not a person who held anything back and briefly explained in her way, that the children all suffered from some type of disability and needed special help. With that being said, my mother politely asked me to hush up and stop asking questions about things that did not concern me. I never gave their disabilities another thought, I was immuned to the differences between us due to the amount of time I spent with them. The first wave of sadness I felt for children with disabilities was when I accompanied my mother into a school to assist a new student onto her bus when a classmate of mine asked why I was with the weird kids. The insult hurt me more than the other child I was with. I truly believe from that moment in my life I had an overwhelming obligation to protect anyone who was the object of ridicule due to their disabilities. That particular day, as a young child, changed my view of the world around me and led down the path I still follow today, a friend, caregiver, and future educator of the disabled