"Mom," she began, "would you consider deafness a disability?"

This is not going to be a rant on injustice to deaf people; I use this illustration to make a point about disability, and deafness is an obvious case, though it differs from many other disability situations on multiple levels. There is, for example, a thriving Deaf Community -- which is a community in most imaginable senses: the deaf have their own language and (therefore) a unique culture; they communicate and work together to make improvements for themselves and others whose challenges are similar; they have schools, churches, and cultural events; they have personal contact with translators and technology and other structural ways to interface with those who hear. The deaf are pretty vocal about their challenges and I am not implying life is perfect for people who lack the ability to hear, for I understand that it is usually isolating to be deaf; I am personally unable to communicate well in sign language and struggle in my efforts to reach out meaningfully to people who cannot hear. There are many evident ways in which the deaf need not be handicapped.

It is a parent's challenge to enable her "disabled" child to function and thrive, whatever the issues. Usually this happens when she loves her child and can see him as "gifted." And yes, each person has unique and beautiful gifts.


One afternoon provided an epiphany. My husband received a computer message from a co-worker, inviting him to a meeting. His co-worker had a Mac computer and everyone else had PCs; they did not have a suitable interface software and the message was garbled and long. My husband showed a copy of the message to our son, asking him what had happened. Our son, who understood something of computers, immediately recognized the problem and was able to decode the message.

"If a person with a Mac wants to communicate with a person on a PC," my husband suggested, "whose job is it to make sure the interface software works?" Our son shrugged his shoulders with the easy conclusion that Macs, with about a 10% market share, must bear the responsibility for communication.
"You are the Mac," my husband informed him. "You can do some things better, but you must build the bridge for your own communication. And when you do, others will be able to cross, too. If you can effectively communicate with everyone, you can make the world better -- for everyone."
Further, after the idea had some time to simmer, my husband asked our son to hypothetically consider whether, if he could choose, he would want to abandon his "superpowers" for a chance to be "normal," without his autistic tendencies. Only a little thought led him to the conclusion that he would prefer himself as he is. I was amazed.
How have things worked out? We are still working -- and I have other rodeos. But recent job interviews have had remarkable outcomes for this "socially-challenged" child. His interest and ability to research leads him to often know more about a company's stated mission and focus than his interviewers. His analytical ability helps him to perceive and outline hazards in social situations that many would miss. And he has been remarkably successful in multiple tests of his ability to interact with and relate to strangers.
How does a mother change the world? By daily acts. Through reminders and patience -- even though she has said it a thousand times already. We all have some sort of disability, but it doesn't have to become a handicap -- and if Mom can frame it properly, she is discovering and nurturing a Superpower.
Interpreter photo from San Diego Community.
Other photos from sxc.hu. Used courtesy of Griszka Niewiadomski, Leanne Rook, and Andy Duran.
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