Left Out
My daughter loves to play “Name That Tune” and she has a real knack for hearing just a few seconds of a song and being able to identify the song and the artist.
The other morning, she joined with a dozen other people with various levels of developmental disabilities and of various ages in an hourlong, on-line “Name that Tune” session on the Google Meets platform. Everybody joined in and judging by the noise and laughter, they all seemed to be having a blast. Just like “normal” people.
My daughter would be doing things like “Name That Tune” all day long, if she could, but she can’t.
“Name That Tune” is one of only a few programs that are offered since the state-funded Abilities center in Hackettstown was closed three months ago because of the COVID 19 pandemic. Hour long on-line programs also are offered in art and music two days a week and that is about all.
Before the pandemic forced the closing, my daughter went to the Abilities program every weekday. A van picked her up at 9 a.m. and returned her home at 3 p.m. In the morning, she would often wait at the window staring out in anticipation for the van. When it arrived, she bounded out, wearing a big smile to be greeted by the driver with an equally warm smile and then getting into the van and saying hello to the other passengers. And I could feel confident that she would be supervised by caring and competent adults.
As usual, in times of government cuts, the most fragile among us and those with least ability to advocate, suffer the most.
Structure is vital for people with developmental disabilities. The lack of a structured day is especially difficult for people like my daughter who are not very good at independent activities. When her structure is removed, my daughter cleans her room a lot and takes long showers. I just can’t entertain her all day and that is why programs like Abilities are offered.
The Abilities program is funded by the state Division of Developmental Disabilities. It is a lifeline for many people who would otherwise be isolated, alone, and retreat further into their own private, confused and lonely worlds. And it is vital for caregivers who may have jobs and simply can’t afford to provide daytime care.
The program offers pretty basic services but one of the most important is socialization and making participants feel that they belong maybe for the first time in their lives. Belonging is the opposite of what this population usually feels. They are ostracized for being different and they often know it and they often suffer silently.
These people cannot function on their own; they just don’t have the abilities, excuse the pun.
I cringe when I hear the word “different.” The last I checked, we are all different. Certainly, the population of people with disabilities look “different.” They may not make eye contact or they may be non-verbal. They may be older and unable to understand much. They may flap their arms and talk to an invisible friend. They are ridiculed and discarded by the society as so much detritus.
I remember one of the first times I brought my daughter to a special program in Budd Lake that helped young people on the autism spectrum. I was in the waiting area along with a dozen other people and I could not tell the difference between the “typical” people and the “different” people.
And then, to my shock, I realized that the other people in the room probably thought the same thing about me. My initial thought was to make it clear that I was “normal.” But I quickly realized that I am not normal and there is no such thing as normal.
I watched as the children laughed and their parents reacted. Some of the kids were obviously impaired but they were also laughing. Like my daughter, these people didn’t have a judgmental bone in their bodies and they could care less about differences. They needed support, love, encouragement more than the “typical” people need. And they have fewer boundaries and often return the favor in many and richer ways than “typical” people do.
We like to label people so we can point to their differences to convince us that we are not different. Fact is that words like “typical” and “different” can be the cruelest words. And it just isn’t so. We are all different, regardless of how we define “typical” and we are all deserving of care and respect.
We limit our own lives when we label people as “ugly” or “fat” or “dumb.” If you look carefully into the eyes of the “different” people, those differences will quickly melt away and all you are left with is a person with the same needs as everyone else.