My Daughter Kerry Advocates for the Disabled, PT. 2

A while ago, I composed a speech for advocacy for the disabled, listing several grievances about how people with “disabilities” are treated in society, “special ed” programs, etc. I did not go into too much detail about the “vocational” program I attended, and so now I am writing this essay about what I saw in that building.

            While I knew I wanted to pursue the Army or firefighting, I decided to enroll in this new “vocational” program, assuming that my tasks would fall to mostly helping out with the low-functioning classes-that was what I was so informed. I was also informed that the “vocational” program had moved from the main high school building into a smaller building nearby that had for a while housed the middle school students but didn’t work out for them. I assumed that it would consist of the “grad” students and maybe the high school students and that we would, for the most part be helping out with other classes, given career preparation skills, possibly internships at sports centers, day cares, fire stations, etc. This ended up being the biggest mistake I have ever made. I entered this so-called “vocational” building to find that they had moved all the nonverbal, low-functioning and remediation students into it, and put the “grad” students in with them. I truly regret not just collecting my diploma and enrolling in the Fire Academy or going to an Army recruiter that first day. The building was extremely small and cramped; it stank, and they NEVER cleaned it. Several of the teachers were snappish and rude, and had superior, know-it-all manners. It became apparent right away that they would NOT be encouraging or supportive in any way for our future. We were taken to grocery stores to perform “internships”, i.e. unpaid labor there. We were expected to do rudimentary first-grade level work. If I tried to speak up, they would yell at me to shut up and do my school work. All the books in the “library” were at a fourth grade or below reading level. (I entered the first grade reading at a fifth grade level.) In no time at all, the teachers were targeting especially me. Not just because I was definitely one of the more outspoken students; but because I was, hands down, the most “capable” in the whole building. I was borderline “neurotypical.” I was, as far as society was concerned, everything I was NOT supposed to be. I wanted to enlist in the Army with a backup plan for firefighting, instead of being content with bagging groceries for a living. I knew that I was lesbian and attracted to other women, instead of being asexual. I was clean and cared about my appearance. I was athletic and coordinated. I-GASP!-drove. I knew that I, no question, intimidated the teachers, with their strict low expectations and stereotypes for “disabled” people. This is why they had it out especially for me. One instance would be right before the winter break. A teacher asked me to write a paper on my holiday of Yule, or the Midwinter Solstice. She told me that I only needed to make it three pages long-and then pointed out that an ordinary college level paper would require several more pages and extensive research. When I offered to do a regular college-level paper for her, she stared and me and snapped, “No…I know you CANNOT do that.” No. That is not it. The truth is, she knew I COULD do it. She was fearful that I would bring her back a perfect, detailed, college-level paper, and completely dumb down her and the rest of these rigid, holier-than-thou teachers.

            After the new year, they set up “Fun Fridays” for the students who had had “good behavior” and gotten no “strikes” during the week. Students would get to choose from several different activities to partake in on Friday afternoons. The “grad” student were expected to partake as well-sitting quietly in the classroom with our Ipods, not bothering anyone, was “not an option.” Students who had made the slightest slip-up during the week, however, were sent to “Focus Fridays,” in a separate room where they were expected to complete worksheet after worksheet on proper behavior until the end of the day. One day, they decided to send me to “Focus Friday” for no apparent reason. They claimed that I had been “teasing” another student. This I had no recollection of. When I asked them to please refresh my memory, I was simply met with blank stares and “Well…uh…you did.” What they were doing was trying to make me feel dumbed down, and assert themselves over the big, bad, “most capable, borderline-neurotypical” student that they so feared.

            That was the message at this building. Don’t ask questions. Be quiet. Sink into oblivion. This was not a “vocational” building-this was a place set up to intentionally dumb us down, make us feel degraded and humiliated, and show that “disabled” people have NO place in society. There was nothing “vocational” about this building. I am hoping that others can see my side of the story. It, frankly, makes me angry that I need to do this. This is a sad truth, that society still looks at any and all “disabled” people this way. This is no different than the way a person of mixed European and Native American blood would have been treated a hundred years ago-no differently than if they had been a full-blooded Native American. Society obviously has not been educated to our needs, thoughts, and feelings-many obviously bhow people with “disabilities” are treated in society, “special ed” programs, etc. I did not go into too much detail about the “vocational” program I attended, and so now I am writing this essay about what I saw in that building.

            While I knew I wanted to pursue the Army or firefighting, I decided to enroll in this new “vocational” program, assuming that my tasks would fall to mostly helping out with the low-functioning classes-that was what I was so informed. I was also informed that the “vocational” program had moved from the main high school building into a smaller building nearby that had for a while housed the middle school students but didn’t work out for them. I assumed that it would consist of the “grad” students and maybe the high school students and that we would, for the most part be helping out with other classes, given career preparation skills, possibly internships at sports centers, day cares, fire stations, etc. This ended up being the biggest mistake I have ever made. I entered this so-called “vocational” building to find that they had moved all the nonverbal, low-functioning and remediation students into it, and put the “grad” students in with them. I truly regret not just collecting my diploma and enrolling in the Fire Academy or going to an Army recruiter that first day. The building was extremely small and cramped; it stank, and they NEVER cleaned it. Several of the teachers were snappish and rude, and had superior, know-it-all manners. It became apparent right away that they would NOT be encouraging or supportive in any way for our future. We were taken to grocery stores to perform “internships”, i.e. unpaid labor there. We were expected to do rudimentary first-grade level work. If I tried to speak up, they would yell at me to shut up and do my school work. All the books in the “library” were at a fourth grade or below reading level. (I entered the first grade reading at a fifth grade level.) In no time at all, the teachers were targeting especially me. Not just because I was definitely one of the more outspoken students; but because I was, hands down, the most “capable” in the whole building. I was borderline “neurotypical.” I was, as far as society was concerned, everything I was NOT supposed to be. I wanted to enlist in the Army with a backup plan for firefighting, instead of being content with bagging groceries for a living. I knew that I was lesbian and attracted to other women, instead of being asexual. I was clean and cared about my appearance. I was athletic and coordinated. I-GASP!-drove. I knew that I, no question, intimidated the teachers, with their strict low expectations and stereotypes for “disabled” people. This is why they had it out especially for me. One instance would be right before the winter break. A teacher asked me to write a paper on my holiday of Yule, or the Midwinter Solstice. She told me that I only needed to make it three pages long-and then pointed out that an ordinary college level paper would require several more pages and extensive research. When I offered to do a regular college-level paper for her, she stared and me and snapped, “No…I know you CANNOT do that.” No. That is not it. The truth is, she knew I COULD do it. She was fearful that I would bring her back a perfect, detailed, college-level paper, and completely dumb down her and the rest of these rigid, holier-than-thou teachers.

            After the new year, they set up “Fun Fridays” for the students who had had “good behavior” and gotten no “strikes” during the week. Students would get to choose from several different activities to partake in on Friday afternoons. The “grad” student were expected to partake as well-sitting quietly in the classroom with our Ipods, not bothering anyone, was “not an option.” Students who had made the slightest slip-up during the week, however, were sent to “Focus Fridays,” in a separate room where they were expected to complete worksheet after worksheet on proper behavior until the end of the day. One day, they decided to send me to “Focus Friday” for no apparent reason. They claimed that I had been “teasing” another student. This I had no recollection of. When I asked them to please refresh my memory, I was simply met with blank stares and “Well…uh…you did.” What they were doing was trying to make me feel dumbed down, and assert themselves over the big, bad, “most capable, borderline-neurotypical” student that they so feared.

            That was the message at this building. Don’t ask questions. Be quiet. Sink into oblivion. This was not a “vocational” building-this was a place set up to intentionally dumb us down, make us feel degraded and humiliated, and show that “disabled” people have NO place in society. There was nothing “vocational” about this building. I am hoping that others can see my side of the story. It, frankly, makes me angry that I need to do this. This is a sad truth, that society still looks at any and all “disabled” people this way. This is no different than the way a person of mixed European and Native American blood would have been treated a hundred years ago-no differently than if they had been a full-blooded Native American. Society obviously has not been educated to our needs, thoughts, and feelings-many obviously be “vocational” program I attended, and so now I am writing this essay about what I saw in that building.

            While I knew I wanted to pursue the Army or firefighting, I decided to enroll in this new “vocational” program, assuming that my tasks would fall to mostly helping out with the low-functioning classes-that was what I was so informed. I was also informed that the “vocational” program had moved from the main high school building into a smaller building nearby that had for a while housed the middle school students but didn’t work out for them. I assumed that it would consist of the “grad” students and maybe the high school students and that we would, for the most part be helping out with other classes, given career preparation skills, possibly internships at sports centers, day cares, fire stations, etc. This ended up being the biggest mistake I have ever made. I entered this so-called “vocational” building to find that they had moved all the nonverbal, low-functioning and remediation students into it, and put the “grad” students in with them. I truly regret not just collecting my diploma and enrolling in the Fire Academy or going to an Army recruiter that first day. The building was extremely small and cramped; it stank, and they NEVER cleaned it. Several of the teachers were snappish and rude, and had superior, know-it-all manners. It became apparent right away that they would NOT be encouraging or supportive in any way for our future. We were taken to grocery stores to perform “internships”, i.e. unpaid labor there. We were expected to do rudimentary first-grade level work. If I tried to speak up, they would yell at me to shut up and do my school work. All the books in the “library” were at a fourth grade or below reading level. (I entered the first grade reading at a fifth grade level.) In no time at all, the teachers were targeting especially me. Not just because I was definitely one of the more outspoken students; but because I was, hands down, the most “capable” in the whole building. I was borderline “neurotypical.” I was, as far as society was concerned, everything I was NOT supposed to be. I wanted to enlist in the Army with a backup plan for firefighting, instead of being content with bagging groceries for a living. I knew that I was lesbian and attracted to other women, instead of being asexual. I was clean and cared about my appearance. I was athletic and coordinated. I-GASP!-drove. I knew that I, no question, intimidated the teachers, with their strict low expectations and stereotypes for “disabled” people. This is why they had it out especially for me. One instance would be right before the winter break. A teacher asked me to write a paper on my holiday of Yule, or the Midwinter Solstice. She told me that I only needed to make it three pages long-and then pointed out that an ordinary college level paper would require several more pages and extensive research. When I offered to do a regular college-level paper for her, she stared and me and snapped, “No…I know you CANNOT do that.” No. That is not it. The truth is, she knew I COULD do it. She was fearful that I would bring her back a perfect, detailed, college-level paper, and completely dumb down her and the rest of these rigid, holier-than-thou teachers.

            After the new year, they set up “Fun Fridays” for the students who had had “good behavior” and gotten no “strikes” during the week. Students would get to choose from several different activities to partake in on Friday afternoons. The “grad” student were expected to partake as well-sitting quietly in the classroom with our Ipods, not bothering anyone, was “not an option.” Students who had made the slightest slip-up during the week, however, were sent to “Focus Fridays,” in a separate room where they were expected to complete worksheet after worksheet on proper behavior until the end of the day. One day, they decided to send me to “Focus Friday” for no apparent reason. They claimed that I had been “teasing” another student. This I had no recollection of. When I asked them to please refresh my memory, I was simply met with blank stares and “Well…uh…you did.” What they were doing was trying to make me feel dumbed down, and assert themselves over the big, bad, “most capable, borderline-neurotypical” student that they so feared.

            That was the message at this building. Don’t ask questions. Be quiet. Sink into oblivion. This was not a “vocational” building-this was a place set up to intentionally dumb us down, make us feel degraded and humiliated, and show that “disabled” people have NO place in society. There was nothing “vocational” about this building. I am hoping that others can see my side of the story. It, frankly, makes me angry that I need to do this. This is a sad truth, that society still looks at any and all “disabled” people this way. This is no different than the way a person of mixed European and Native American blood would have been treated a hundred years ago-no differently than if they had been a full-blooded Native American. Society obviously has not been educated to our needs, thoughts, and feelings-many obviously b

            While I knew I wanted to pursue the Army or firefighting, I decided to enroll in this new “vocational” program, assuming that my tasks would fall to mostly helping out with the low-functioning classes-that was what I was so informed. I was also informed that the “vocational” program had moved from the main high school building into a smaller building nearby that had for a while housed the middle school students but didn’t work out for them. I assumed that it would consist of the “grad” students and maybe the high school students and that we would, for the most part be helping out with other classes, given career preparation skills, possibly internships at sports centers, day cares, fire stations, etc. This ended up being the biggest mistake I have ever made. I entered this so-called “vocational” building to find that they had moved all the nonverbal, low-functioning and remediation students into it, and put the “grad” students in with them. I truly regret not just collecting my diploma and enrolling in the Fire Academy or going to an Army recruiter that first day. The building was extremely small and cramped; it stank, and they NEVER cleaned it. Several of the teachers were snappish and rude, and had superior, know-it-all manners. It became apparent right away that they would NOT be encouraging or supportive in any way for our future. We were taken to grocery stores to perform “internships”, i.e. unpaid labor there. We were expected to do rudimentary first-grade level work. If I tried to speak up, they would yell at me to shut up and do my school work. All the books in the “library” were at a fourth grade or below reading level. (I entered the first grade reading at a fifth grade level.) In no time at all, the teachers were targeting especially me. Not just because I was definitely one of the more outspoken students; but because I was, hands down, the most “capable” in the whole building. I was borderline “neurotypical.” I was, as far as society was concerned, everything I was NOT supposed to be. I wanted to enlist in the Army with a backup plan for firefighting, instead of being content with bagging groceries for a living. I knew that I was lesbian and attracted to other women, instead of being asexual. I was clean and cared about my appearance. I was athletic and coordinated. I-GASP!-drove. I knew that I, no question, intimidated the teachers, with their strict low expectations and stereotypes for “disabled” people. This is why they had it out especially for me. One instance would be right before the winter break. A teacher asked me to write a paper on my holiday of Yule, or the Midwinter Solstice. She told me that I only needed to make it three pages long-and then pointed out that an ordinary college level paper would require several more pages and extensive research. When I offered to do a regular college-level paper for her, she stared and me and snapped, “No…I know you CANNOT do that.” No. That is not it. The truth is, she knew I COULD do it. She was fearful that I would bring her back a perfect, detailed, college-level paper, and completely dumb down her and the rest of these rigid, holier-than-thou teachers.

            After the new year, they set up “Fun Fridays” for the students who had had “good behavior” and gotten no “strikes” during the week. Students would get to choose from several different activities to partake in on Friday afternoons. The “grad” student were expected to partake as well-sitting quietly in the classroom with our Ipods, not bothering anyone, was “not an option.” Students who had made the slightest slip-up during the week, however, were sent to “Focus Fridays,” in a separate room where they were expected to complete worksheet after worksheet on proper behavior until the end of the day. One day, they decided to send me to “Focus Friday” for no apparent reason. They claimed that I had been “teasing” another student. This I had no recollection of. When I asked them to please refresh my memory, I was simply met with blank stares and “Well…uh…you did.” What they were doing was trying to make me feel dumbed down, and assert themselves over the big, bad, “most capable, borderline-neurotypical” student that they so feared.

            That was the message at this building. Don’t ask questions. Be quiet. Sink into oblivion. This was not a “vocational” building-this was a place set up to intentionally dumb us down, make us feel degraded and humiliated, and show that “disabled” people have NO place in society. There was nothing “vocational” about this building. I am hoping that others can see my side of the story. It, frankly, makes me angry that I need to do this. This is a sad truth, that society still looks at any and all “disabled” people this way. This is no different than the way a person of mixed European and Native American blood would have been treated a hundred years ago-no differently than if they had been a full-blooded Native American. Society obviously has not been educated to our needs, thoughts, and feelings-many obviously believe we don’t have any at all. Thank you if you have read this far. We need to stand up.

--Kerry Perdy

My daughter Kerry advocates for the rights of the disabled

My daughter Kerry is becoming interested in advocacy for the disabled.

She has specific ambitions and plans for her own life, and wants to be sure NO ONE is denied opportunities to excel. This is a speech she wrote, and will be delivering. Her Mother and I are very proud of Kerry.

 My name is Kerry Purdy and I am advocating for people with disabilities in military and first responder careers, and also trying to understand special needs schools and organizations for what really goes on behind their doors. Right now, I am wishing to speak up for students at certain “special needs” schools-especially those who cannot speak for themselves.

First of all, I am a graduate of a school that was opened to mix in children with autism spectrum disorders along with “typically developing peer model students.” The school is advertised as combining the students with “disabilities” in with the “non-disabled” peers, with fair and equal treatment for all. This, however, was not what I saw during my years there. Attention was drawn constantly to the “peers.” It was the peers this, the peers that. The PEERS got student council. The PEERS got honors classes. The PEERS got all the fun and excitement of varsity basketball and volleyball. We were looked down on, not taken seriously, and spoken to as if we were two year olds. This also sent the message to the peers that as long as you are society’s definition of “normal” you can have everything handed to you on a silver platter, and it’s alright to treat people with disabilities as if they were below you. When they found out I had my driver’s license, they almost blew a gasket. There was, however, nothing wrong with the “peers” driving themselves to school every morning. (I am very willing to bet, that if high schools were still allowed to teach driver’s ed, it would be offered to the PEERS and the PEERS only-let’s face it-we’re supposed to ride the COTA bus. They don’t want to see us behind the wheel.) I want to share with you all several incidents that have happened to me:

Upon coming out as a lesbian to one teacher, she took me aside and asked me, “Kerry…why do you feel like you want to be that way? Is it because girls are easier to talk to?” (If anything, I think guys are easier to talk to.) First of all, this was an absolutely shameful thing for a teacher to say to anyone, “disabled” or not, as I spent the first half of ten years wondering why I felt attracted to girls when I knew I was supposed to be attracted to boys, and the next half trying to battle these feelings and force myself to develop crushes on certain boys, which didn’t work of course. Truth? She more than likely didn’t even have a problem with the L word being said in her classroom. She had a problem with a “disabled” person knowing their own sexual orientation. What if a peer student had come out to a teacher as gay or lesbian? More than likely, they would have patted them on the shoulder and went “It’s okay hun, we support you, we’re glad you felt like you could tell us that.” But as far as society sees us, we’re supposed to be asexual, and when you look at it, it’s intimidating for a “disabled” person to be any orientation other than that.

Since I was fourteen, I have wanted to serve in the military or have a first responder career. The teachers tried everything that they could to try to talk me out of this, making me feel humiliated and degraded-which in the long run, has simply made me more determined. A number of other ASD students also wanted to pursue military or first responder careers, and the school tried everything they could to talk them out of it. Let’s face it, as far as society is concerned, we’re supposed to be bagging groceries for a living, not serving our country, fighting fires, or enforcing laws. What if one of the “peers” was talking about a military or first responder career? They’d be clapping them on the back and going “Good for you, son/girl, we’re proud of you for serving.” The teachers started to tease me about joining the Irish army (which I HIGHLY doubt would even consider taking me, seeing as most of my heritage is from ENGLAND). One teacher went as far as to email my mother and claim that I had told him that I only wanted to enlist because “my great-aunt Sarah O’Malley flew to America on a plane in 1692 and joined the Army.” When I asked him about this email, he proceeded to give me this blank stare, deny that there ever was an email like that, and succeeded in making me feel like I had NO CLUE what I was talking about.

After socially graduating, I enrolled in the new “vocational” building to help out while I pursued firefighting, assuming that it would consist of the grad students and maybe the high school seniors, and that we would take age-appropriate exams, be given preparation skills for our chosen careers, possibly internships at sports centers, hospitals, day cares, fire stations, etc. This ended up being the biggest mistake I have ever made, and nine months of my life that I cannot get back. I entered the cramped, smelly, filthy building to find out that they had moved all the nonverbal, low functioning and remediation students into it, and put the grad students in with them. There was not a “peer” student in the building-HELLO! Now that we think about it, do you really think they would put any of their precious peer model students in this situation? We were all expected to do rudimentary first-grade level work…literally, when we were supposed to be doing college level work. Did they help me work on preparing for firefighting? Did they work with any of the other students on any of their wanted careers? No. We were dragged to places like TJ Maxx to perform unpaid labor there. Why? Because on our knees stacking shelves is the only thing society wants to see us doing. When I tried to speak up, because ALL the other grad students were just sitting there taking it, they shouted at me to shut up and do my school work. It was a degrading, humiliating, situation, and it got to the point where I was ashamed to be seen in that building. I very strongly believe that they *wanted* us to feel degraded and humiliated, to show that “disabled” people have NO place in society.

I do not want to sound like I am intentionally attacking or lashing out at anyone, as that is certainly not my intention. I do, however, believe that society could be more educated to our needs. We could be given more chances in challenging careers, and given age-appropriate schoolwork at schools. We could certainly be more accepted in athletics other than Special Olympics. (I can kick a soccer ball, but I can’t fix a computer. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, as far as society is concerned?) They can also be more open to the fact that many of us do have sexual feelings and different orientations. Guys, we can’t take this anymore. We *cannot* let society walk all over us like this anymore. We’ve GOT to make a stand-tell society we won’t take it anymore. We are human beings, and have human rights and feelings just like everyone else. I want nothing more than to be a firefighter or enlist in the Army, and society wants me-and you-on our knees at a fast food restaurant or grocery store. LET’S STAND UP! We’re not going to take it, and we WON’T. Through the years, I have gone from timid and mild-mannered to speaking my mind and willing to take a stand, and I hope to be an inspiration to others. I am hoping that one day, in the very near future, you will see me in my Army uniform, and feel encouraged and inspired that YOU can do it too. Thank you all very much for your time. LET’S STAND UP!