I have been working for a long while in a school district. Before I was part-time cripple, I was just educated in disability rights. I existed in the world trained and educated to see with that lens on. So, for example, when the winter would arrive and the snow was plowed into the parking spot (as noted in a previous post), I advocated. I went to the main office and they called the city who argued for a bit about “Well where are we suppose to put it?” but inevitably moved it. Then, I became part-time cripple, and the importance of those spots became less about “theory” and advocating and more about application and practice.
Fast forward to when I became promoted to a district level, still started to teach to help out with a program at the high school and quickly realized I couldn’t walk to my classroom due to how far of a walk it would be daily so I got “Carmen Sandiego”–my self named wheelchair and thought wow, what a difference after having struggled with my walker for years. What a difference for me but also one that would also sharpen my focus on the lack of accessible entrances that I already struggled with around the district save for my specific building downtown.
So then there was the few times I tried to get into the building and got stuck in the doors. Throwing them open, trying to get over the threshold and being unable to, needing to stand up, push my chair, hold the door etc. Practical for me because I could do so (at the expense of using more energy for me) but I could do it. Read that in bold I, could do that. But, then this wasn’t always about me. So I advocated. I mentioned at my administrative meetings the handicap button, or lack there of. I copied over ADA checklists and with the support of the special education director advocated for funding to be put in a fancy funding area of the city. And in the meantime, I was provided a key to the non-existent handicap door as the key would “open it”. Again, not about me, but sure. Thanks.
So today arrives. I wake and scoot my butt as far as my dining room before I’m too tired to go further. My gal makes me coffee. Straight caf. Usually this makes me hyper. I drink it sitting on the floor of my dinning room. I get up, make another cup and make it to the sofa. After cup two, I make it to work. I get Carmen, I put her in my car, I go to the high school to teach.
It’s 8:10 am. I look at my options: 1. Handicap spots with an insulting set of five stairs in front of them and an epic length of wheeling that I’ve done before and know takes a certain level of energy that I did not think I had. 2. City parking on the street which is closer but I would have to tackle the chopped up bumpy sidewalk. I opt for that. In the process, wheeling over that, I almost get launched out of my chair hitting a spot. I sigh, back up, and use my tip bars to clear it. Then, at the door, to my surprise, the key works. The alarms are not set at that point so I make it to my class by 8:37.
As I leave, 3 full coffees in me, I think about how I’d like to handle things. 1. I could go to the main office, wait for a custodian to come, turn off the alarm at the handicap accessible door and go that way. 2. Just set off the alarms, and go on my merry way and let the building deal with the disruption. This wouldn’t be news to the principal–she supported my efforts and had also talked about how the building wasn’t accessible. So off I roll, but before I hit the door, I scan for a button to open it. Oh, yeah, that’d be asking for too much. I mean, after all, I have a key for the “door button” outside… who cares once I get it. So I fly down the ramp, slam into the door hands out, throwing open the door, have the alarms start screaming (I wasn’t sound sensitive otherwise this would have been horrible) and start wheeling down the sidewalk, pausing to rest before taking on the bumpy one.
And I get to my office, which is partly city owned, which has amazing accessibility and responsiveness to the time when the button didn’t work for me there. I get there and I sit in my car. I’m mad. I usually don’t get mad. I’m frustrated. I want to cry. I want to call my mom and have her be like, yes, that’s wrong. Yes, I get why you’re frustrated. But, she’s overseas. So, I call my disability professor from back in college. We have a great conversation. She gives me some good suggestions. She validates my feelings.
And Tuesday, hopefully when I present as “able bodied”, I’m going to talk to the students & try to teach them to see that lens, see if they can catch on without the obvious me demonstrating. I’m going to see if they can start some advocacy because more than one voice usually helps make a change.