Alien

Throughout my life, I have felt trapped between two realms, disabled and able-bodied, never quite inhabiting either of them. Growing up, I struggled to reconcile my disability with the movement of my mind. I would longingly watch my brothers play football, wishing my muscles would spark into motion.  Music has always captivated me. My early life is littered with memories of my Mother’s beautiful piano playing. Her fingers seemed to operate independently of her, lovingly caressing the keys. There I would sit, mesmerised by the magical notes floating on air, dreaming of my crooked bones conjuring those sounds into existence. 

I spent most of my early education in special needs schools. As my ninth birthday approached, I was enrolled at my local primary school for the final eighteen months of junior school. My parents believed this would soften my transition into the mainstream system, before making the much more significant leap to secondary school. My parents were right. My new school was in the village, just a short walk from my family home. The 1970s building is nestled next to the church and opposite the pub, almost as if these things were the pillars of life. I had to mould into the able-bodied world. I was an alien landing on earth for the first time, acutely aware of my differences, desperately trying to conceal them. That being said, the teachers endeavoured to include me in every activity, even calling upon my father’s metalwork skills to construct a ramp. Slowly, but inevitably I became accustomed to my new surroundings. 

High school, on the other hand, hit me like a whirlwind. I was catapulted from a quaint village school into a bustling hive of emotions, hormones, and ridicule. I was the first physically disabled pupil to attend a mainstream school, within the county of Staffordshire. As a result, I was treated with kid gloves. I felt like a prized Guiney pig. I look back on those years with pride. I suffered many trials and tribulations so that the people who succeeded me would have a smoother ride. All my needs were catered for. Albeit with the rather long wait for a functioning elevator.  After every lesson, I would have to trek through the library to reach the second floor.  I endured a tremendous amount of bullying from the ages of 11 to 16. Only when I entered the sixth form, did I begin to feel accepted. You may be wondering whether mainstream education has positives for disabled people.

In my opinion, mainstream schooling enables people with disabilities to experience the real world, without being wrapped up in cotton wool. Thereby making their integration into society a little more comfortable.

See you next week,

John xx