Why hello there, Blogger.

It has been a long time, hasn't it?  I've been busy cheating on Blogger with Tumblr, but never fear, I will always come back to Blogger when I have something of actual length to say.  Which, sad to say, hasn't been lately.  Such is the life of a college student.

ANYWAY.  I'm hosting the October Disability Blog Carnival!  Pieces of the June one are still languishing in my drafts folder, and I intend to actually put it up.....sometime.  But onto October!  My theme for the October DBC is sweet is the melody.  How does music help you get through the tough times related to disability?  What songs empower you?  What songs remind you of the disability experience?  As always, I welcome submissions off-theme as well.  Please have submissions to me by October 25th and I will try my hardest to have them up by the first of November!!  You can comment on this post with your link or email me at caraliebowitz@gmail.com.  You can even send them to me through Tumblr if you like, I don't care.  Happy blogging, everyone!

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Post

every discussion
every essay, every poem
every scrap and morsel of language
i search for her
the one who CAN
the one who rides her scooter feeling like a fraud
because she gets up and walks
the one who knows her crutches
could be tossed away
and for the most part,
she'd be okay
but just okay
the one who can pass
can do everything
who knows she'll
most likely never end up institutionalized
doesn't have to rely on anyone else
the one who gets struck down with deceiving labels like "mild"
who could so easily distance herself
if she wanted to
the one who hears ringing accusations in her ears
"you're a faker!"
"you're not really disabled!"
"oh you are, but not like them!
not like those poor broken people!"
and she's afraid that if she listens to them enough
she might start to believe them
i search for her
because in finding her, i will have found myself

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CP in a Jar

Inspired by A Jar of Autism.

What would it be like if I could scoop my CP up and put it in a jar like that little blue flame that Hermione jars in Harry Potter?  It would be a fairly high commodity, I would think.  After all, if you bought CP In A Jar, you would get all those “special” accommodations, like being able to type all your notes and being able to leave class five minutes early - a whole five minutes of NO CLASS!  Of course, that’s assuming that you would even be able to get those accommodations, after doctors and therapists and everyone and their mother have said that yes, you do actually NEED those accommodations, only then will they relinquish them.  And the doctors take forever to get back to you too, and none of them actually know anything about cerebral palsy, so you end up writing the entire letter yourself and having the doctor stick his/her signature on it.  And even after you get those coveted accommodations, after you’ve struggled and cried for so many years trying to get them, there will still be people who tell you you don’t need them.  Some of those people will be the very people who are supposed to help you.  Do me a favor and direct those people to me.  I’ll sell them CP in a Jar, so that they can know what it’s like.

And if you got CP in a Jar, then you could get one of those AWESOME wheelchairs (like a car!) and go, like, a million miles an hour (when in actuality it’s only 4.5 - I know, I’ve looked it up), and SIT ALL THE TIME.  And all those unfortunate people who don’t have CP in a Jar will say “I wish I could sit all the time!” That is, of course, assuming insurance will cover the cost of a wheelchair, assuming the powers that be think your wheelchair is “medically necessary”.  Never mind that the powers that be have never actually MET you and have absolutely no idea what YOUR life is like.

You’ll get your muscles surgically altered as a toddler (and become some sort of freaky superhero!).  And you can whine and moan and bitch about how awful your life is and you’ll get all the attention for being such a special snowflake.  You’ll fall on your face and everyone will rush to your aid like a knight in shining armor (or just step on you like floor pizza).  People will wipe away a tear proclaiming how inspirational and courageous you are when you’re just trying to buy your food like everyone else.  You might even get money, just for being your very special self and out of the goodness of the hearts of people who are so much more fortunate than you are.

But you have to be careful not to overdose on CP in a Jar.  Of course, you wouldn’t want to become one of those people.  Those people who have all those absurd needs.  Those people who are always taking away from the normal people, greedy gophers that they are.  They think they’re so entitled.  Why are we giving them all those special programs and benefits?  It’s not like they’re ever going to get a real job.  Maybe work at McDonalds, if they’re lucky.  God forbid, you ever became one of those drooling, gibbering idiots!  And what if you were *whisper* retarded??  That would be so awful.  The poor things, they must be so sad.  No, you wouldn’t want to be one of them.  But just a little bit, just a pinch of CP in a Jar, that would be nice.

*side effects may include intense muscle spasms, chronic pain, people assuming you’re drunk, and the feeling that you’re generally a broken, worthless human being, among others

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Cerebral Palsy Is.....

In the style of Being Autistic Is... and What Epilepsy Is...

Cerebral palsy isn't just "bum legs".

CP is being accused of "always being tired".

CP is consciously coordinating your muscles for every little task.

CP is falling over, and then having people step on you (literally and figuratively).

CP is being asked intrusive questions about your mobility aids.

CP is being accused of being lazy when you're too exhausted to move.

CP is feeling like you're being judged when you cancel plans because you're too exhausted to move or you know you will be after the event.

CP is constantly being in pain or discomfort.

CP is being terrified to go out in bad weather, because one gust of wind can blow you over.

CP is going the back way in life (literally and figuratively) because it's the only way that's accessible.

CP is feeling like you're a zoo exhibit everywhere you go.

CP is crying over at least one assignment every semester, because your spazzy hands screw up the assignment, it looks like a five year old did it, and everyone else is whispering about how easy it was.

CP is being told "Oh, I'm not looking for fine art!" when you tell someone you cannot draw.

CP is other people making assumptions about what you can and can't do.

CP is people assuming that physical disability is cancelled out by intelligence.

CP is being accused of "faking it".

CP is other people scrutinizing your abilities, when really they vary from day to day and situation to situation.

CP is everyone separating everything into "can" and "can't" with no gray area in between.

CP is always feeling like you're in the way and asking for too much.

CP is being the only person in the room with a mobility aid.

Feel free to add more! :)

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Woah, wait, another blog?!

I have now created my THIRD blog, a Tumblr called Flutterfly Invasion.  Again, I will still be posting on Butterfly Dreams and Palsy Snark, but the Tumblr will be used more for bits and pieces, odds and ends, as well as things that DON'T directly relate to disability, although there will be some of that, too.   So check it out and have fun!  The June DBC will be up soon.  I promise :)

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The Carnival is Coming! The Carnival is Coming!

OK, so I'm hosting the June Disability Blog Carnival, as you may know already.  And the theme is community.  I WOULD REALLY LIKE SUBMISSIONS BY THE 25TH, BUT I WILL EXTEND THE DUE DATE IF NECESSARY.  So far only one person has submitted a post.  So.....get writing!  Please?

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Redefining Inclusion

I think we need to redefine inclusion.

Many people seem to have this inaccurate, and frankly, kind of bizarre, notion of what inclusion actually is.  Case in point:  this wonderful post about an ignorant teacher from Robert Rummel-Hudson, whose daughter, Schuyler, has a rare disability called Bilateral Perisylvian Polymicrogyria.

"...it was as if the concept of inclusion meant that Schuyler had a right to be parked in her class and to watch the other students, the REAL students, learn. Inclusion appeared to mean being a face in the class photo."

As a physically disabled student in high school, I faced this attitude on a regular basis.  I frequently sat in the classroom feeling like an island as other students swarmed around me doing one project or another that was inaccessible to me.  I had very few social interactions - no one ever asked me to join their group, and even when groups were assigned, the projects were usually motor-skill oriented, such as a poster.  Once again, I'd be the island, sitting feeling lonely while everyone else was having fun.  No one - teachers or students - ever asked me how the classroom environment could be more accessible to me.   No one ever asked what my needs were and tried to meet them.  No one knew what to do with me, so instead of asking, they simply did nothing.  And yet, I'm sure if you asked any one of the administrators at my school, they would tell you that I was fully included for all six years I was at that school.  I blame it on ignorance and lack of training.

Inclusion isn't about parking a kid with a disability in a classroom with no support whatsoever, and expecting them to succeed; or worse, expecting nothing from them so the kid becomes some sort of human wall decoration.  It's about making the classroom environment accessible to everyone.  It's about making sure that every kid who's in that classroom can and will learn, even if it's only one thing.  It's about helping every child, regardless of ability/disability, succeed.  I don't expect teachers to know right off the bat every single adaptation that they will have to make for every single student.  Hopefully, as general education teachers get more special ed training, many of those adaptations will already be in place.  But I do expect teachers to question themselves and their students so that the classroom is the most accessible that it can be.  We must not simply include students with disabilities, but we must accept them, integrate them into our classroom, and embrace their potential, just like we should do with every student.

So yes, I think we need to redefine inclusion.  Shout it loud, from the hilltops, from schools all across the globe, with all our unique voices, that inclusion is not a place.  Inclusion is a practice.  Inclusion is a right.  And a weak, half-assed facsimile of inclusion is worse than no inclusion at all.

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