In university, we often talk about unconscious biases and how they affect how we perceive others. If I tell you that I have a neurodevelopmental disability, what are the first thoughts that cross your mind? In the minds of my teachers, peers and advisors because I am disabled, I must struggle academically, be unable to execute tasks independently , and that I must have behavioral problems. What if I told you that I’m an Outstanding Scholars candidate, that I’m getting straight A’s in my courses and am in a steady romantic relationship? You probably were not expecting that, were you? In society today, the common view of people with developmental disabilities is of someone childlike, innocent, incompetent and dependent, and is an inspiration to us all for waking up in the morning. In this article, I hope to change your perceptions of what it means to have a neurodevelopmental disability, by telling you about my experience.
When I received my first neuropsychological assessment, I was four years old. I was struggling in school; couldn’t sit still during carpet time, had a meltdown over using scissors and couldn’t colour in between the lines. It took an entire evening and plenty of crying to learn how to write the letter ‘k’. In the traffic light system for behaviour I was always in the red. My parents had the good sense to notice something was wrong-I wasn’t developing normally. So, they took me to the doctor, who recommended a psychologist, who ended up conducting a series of tests. Those tests showed that I was not your typical developing child. My cognitive abilities were that of a 6-year-old, but my motor skills were that of a two-year-old. Any ideas my parents had of me being an Olympic athlete were quashed. It was at this point where I received an IEP (individual education plan for the uninitiated) and had to undergo years of occupational therapy.
Throughout elementary school, my future wasn’t bright. My teachers said that I would be a C average student and be lucky if I was accepted to college. If I got all the math problems correct on a homework assignment, it was because my parents helped me. I spent plenty of time at the principal’s office or taking out the trash with the janitor, because I was a “distraction to the other students”. I struggled with making friends and was bullied by my peers and misunderstood by staff. I never pictured myself going to university and did not ascribe words like “intelligent” “bright” or “smart” to myself.
In high school, guidance counselors scoffed when I mentioned that I wanted to pursue the International Baccalaureate Program. They told me in hushed tones that “it’s a very demanding program” and that I should “find a program that better suits your needs”. When I expressed my interest in science and medicine and my desire to study at a postsecondary level, they told me that I should find something easier and that going to college might be more flexible and better suited to my needs. On the other hand, because I was on the honour roll all 4 years of high school and graduated with 95% average, my teachers completely ignored my IEP and denied my right to access my accommodations. They told me that they doubted that I ever even needed accommodation in the first place because I was “not like other students with IEP”. In fact, the recommendations made by the psychologist who assessed me were only applied when I started university. I struggled socially as well, and when I did receive my accommodations,I angered some students who thought that I had the undue advantage.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it; my disability does make certain aspects of my life harder. I struggle with zippers, it took me 10 years to learn how to ride a bike, I can’t eat without getting stains on my clothes and I’ll probably never be able to drive. However, this has no bearing on my independence. I also understand my privilege of being one of the few people with developmental disabilities to go to university and having low support needs. Developmental disabilities range widely from person to person. Disability is not a measure of competence; I can do well on an essay and still be disabled.
Check your perceptions of people with disabilities when you interact with them; if we assume that one never can, they never will.