This past June, my daughter Caroline's team of eighth-grade teachers did something amazing. They led a discussion about different kinds of intelligence, explaining that having a brain that works differently doesn't mean a person is less intelligent; in fact, it can mean that person has some special gifts. The teachers then gave Caroline a chance to share some of the gifts she has because of her autism.
To the amazement of her classmates, Caroline was able to recall every student's birthday, as well every single teacher each of her elementary school classmates had from kindergarten through grade five. Caroline has always been included in the general education classroom, with the help of an aide, and her peers have generally been pretty kind to her.
But this was the first time they realized that she is actually a very bright girl. Like many people, her classmates assumed that autism meant she wasn't smart, that she wasn't really aware of things around her, wasn't a part of their world. That day her classmates discovered they were wrong.
The marginalization of people with "disabilities" is something I battled continually in the 10 years since Caroline was diagnosed. Too often once a "disability" is identified, a child disappears behind a label and a negative stereotype. As a society we are much more sensitive to the harm of stereotyping based on race and faith, but when it comes to the "disabled," we are still in the dark ages. Sadly, most people still seem to view individuals with "disabilities" as different in some fundamental way, somehow less conscious or part of life, even at times less fully human.
I put "disability" in quotes because think the word itself is part of the problem. It literally means "not able." As far as I can tell, we all struggle with something, even if our "disability" has yet to be given an official label. However, most of us do not define ourselves solely by the things we cannot do. So why should some people be viewed so myopically just because the things that are hard for them have a specific name?
Caroline is a spritely, smiling 14 year-old who can do uncanny impressions of family members, loves all things princess, and gives great hugs. She has a keen eye for fashion and a weakness for ice cream. She loves school, her friends and Taylor Swift. But all of that is often obscured by the revelation that she has autism. The only thing many people are able to see when they look at Caroline is what she cannot do or may never do.
The reality is every person is much more than one word can define. Children (and adults) with disabilities are not simply the challenges they face, but rather they are full and diverse people, the sum total of their personalities, character, and gifts.
When given the chance to participate in life, they brilliantly reflect our love, support, and faith. There are many ways to teach the world gratitude and love and courage, and none of them are diminished by having a "disability." And, of course, having a "disability" doesn't preclude being a genius; sometimes it even increases the odds your brain can do amazing things.
When we look at all people, shouldn't we look for their talents and gifts and build from there? I think about Caroline's amazing memory and the way she accepts and loves everyone, her beaming smile and bouncing optimism. Caroline is perfectly able to do many things, and she excels when it comes to love, joy, and perseverance. We all struggle and fail at times, and other times we succeed in ways we never thought possible. At best, we are good to our loved ones and our efforts make the world a better place. Caroline is already succeeding marvelously at both. The experts have a term for that; I think they call it being human.