Special Needs: My Transformation

Shame... and Conversion

My experiences in the past year, as an educator and as an injured person, have changed me for the better. In the past decade I became aware of, and ashamed of, my prejudicial attitude toward people with mental handicaps. I experienced fear and discomfort around those who had mental handicaps, partly because they do not act "normally" according to social customs. My reaction to those with physical handicaps was completely different and I joined other Unitarian Universalists in voting/arguing for full accessibility in public spaces. And though I made the same arguments for those with mental disabilities, privately I felt differently. I cannot justify WHY I felt this way, and I knew it was one of my weaknesses as a humanitarian. My private feelings certainly did not align with our core principals of recognizing the "inherent worth and dignity of all people". Two things helped me transform.

First, it was being an educator in the public school system of Japan, where special needs students are integrated into the school. Considering Japanese culture's aversion to anything "different", the practice of full integration is surprisingly humanitarian. Every school has several hired teachers whose job is to teach the handicapped students. In classes where the students are intellectually capable of keeping up with other students, they join while the special ed teacher assists. In classes where the students are not able to keep up, they have separate classes which are taught by the (kind, flexible) special ed teachers. In club activities and school functions, special needs students are totally included. Only one school in my town (out of 20) has an elevator. But where there aren't elevators, the school has some sort of machine that can roll the student up the stairs in a wheelchair. Also surprising, I notice that most fully-able students act inclusively and kindly toward differently-abled students. My observation of this public educational arrangement offered me perhaps my first experiences with differently-abled students; the private schools I attended as a child were not integrated.

Second, I was injured in January. I needed to use a wheelchair and crutches to get around. I relied upon elevators, fully accessible toilets (both very rare here!) and my partner. At work I felt seriously discriminated against. Yet I was lucky to have one healthy leg and one healthy arm to lean upon when teaching, squat with over Japanese toilets, hop through the snow, balance upon when changing from indoor to outdoor shoes... I will never forget the frustrations of negotiating Sapporo's icy streets and complex train system in my wheelchair. Elevators were remotely located and rare. Frequently I needed to get up and hop. People bumped into me or didn't notice me because, sitting, I was so much shorter than them. Or they instinctively looked at my legs to see why I was in a chair. And once, in the underground hallways around the JR, I noticed another person in a motorized wheelchair. She looked as if she might have severe cerebral palsy because she appeared to have little motor function and used her mouth to operate her chair. But in the moment as we passed one another, she looked straight into my eyes and nodded her head. Eye contact is rare in Japanese society, and this bow was one of the most meaningful gestures I have ever experienced. She recognized my challenge and included me in her circle, although it was clear that my need for the chair would be temporary. It was an incredible gift.


In the months that followed, I visited my local hospital at least once a week for X-rays, MRI, CAT scan, wound dressing, and physical rehabilitation. At rehab I saw several of my special-needs students who were receiving physical therapy. They were always excited to see me there (if the cool foreign teacher gets rehab, maybe I'm not so weird!) and we had a special connection whenever I visited their schools. But the biggest transformation was mine: I had an opportunity to watch these children laugh and play with their PT doctors, who encouraged and massaged the students in fun and confidence-boosting environment. And oh! what joy and love those children are capable of giving! Watching the PT's and supportive parents of these children deeply touched me. They gave love and joy selflessly. And the parents of these special needs did not act apologetic or ashamed; they appeared to love tirelessly and fiercely. In a rigid society which demands assimilation, these children and parents found a space to celebrate their differences. Maybe these children will not be fully assimilated or appreciated in mainstream Japanese society. Maybe they won't ever learn English. But maybe my presence in that PT room offered them "internationalization". And certainly they are worthy of dignity and respect. They have other unique skills: these children offer love and acceptance and laughter as gifts to those they meet. I am so grateful for their joy, which has aided in the expansion of my soul.