First Place
Elizabeth A. Bearce
St. Charles High School
St. Charles, Missouri

“I think it’s only fair for you to know, if you really are considering me for this job opportunity, I do have a disability, and it sometimes affects the way I work,” the applicant said levelly, as she stood to shake hands with the briskly-professional woman armed with a clipboard and an accusing stare who sat across from her.  The interviewer frowned slightly, attempting a thorough but subtle appraisal of the woman’s seemingly normal features.  The applicant, accustomed to such scrutiny, met the woman’s eyes and raised her hand, which was drawn into a crumpled, tightly contracted fist.  “I was in a car accident when I was nineteen that damaged my brain; my muscles are spastic on my right side.”  The accusing stare was downcast awkwardly onto the awaiting clipboard, and the reply was slightly strained.  “Well, I suppose you would like to see some of the facilities you may be working in…”  she spoke uniformly at last, returning to the familiar script she’d used for her past applicants, she stole one last glance at the applicant’s legs.  “I’ll walk slow.”
            My mother had dreamed of becoming a nurse since the age of six.  She carried her toy stethoscope everywhere, checking for cardiac arrhythmias in anything that would stand still long enough to endure the procedure.  She took every step to assure her success; years of academic excellence crowned her the Valedictorian of her graduating class, in addition to procuring her a home at Wichita State University.  It was at this most promising stage of her life that her little Ford Pinto was sideswiped and overtaken by a passing eighteen-wheeler, leaving her trapped in the driver’s seat.  She barely escaped with her life, and when the doctors looked at her crushed pelvis, they reported that she would be lucky to ever emerge from her wheelchair.  The brain damage she sustained from the impact severely marred the left side of her brain, leaving her right-side motor functions incapacitated.    
            As you may have already surmised, the applicant in the earlier interview was my mother.  Fifteen years after being told she may never walk again, she was married with two healthy children, who bounced impatiently in the cold metal chairs as she walked the long passageway to collect her nursing degree from the University of Missouri-St. Louis, once again receiving the highest honors in her class.  She went on to work with children who were both mentally and physically disabled; patients whose severe Down Syndrome or Autism was coupled with inhibited movement, either from additional birth afflictions or accidents later in life.  She is living proof that people with disabilities can not only exceed expectations to thrive in our modern world, but that they have a definite, essential place in our society.
            Through my mother’s ambition and passion, along with the support of her peers and professors, she excelled to flourish.  She went through her entire childhood, knowing what it was like to run, swim, and even write normally; now she cheers from the sidelines at my track meets and dance recitals, and has become accustomed to writing with her left-hand.  I grew up knowing my mother had a harder time with some things; but you couldn’t have convinced me that it slowed her down.  She was my invincible, unsinkable hero; and I was blessed to have been given such a roll model.  But thousands of even greater benefactors have seen the true blessings of Mother’s inclusion in society; the countless numbers of people entrusted to her care.
            What if someone had told mother as she lay in her hospital bed ‘We’re sorry, but you’re damaged, you’re broken…you’ll probably never amount to anything now”?  I’m sure her future patients, who love her blindly and wholeheartedly, as only children with disabilities truly can, would firmly disagree.  Through her work, Mother has enriched and enlightened her patient’s lives.  Her success can inspire them to excel past their own challenges.
            People with disabilities have fought for and earned every right to belong in today’s society.  Their inclusion reaches infinitely beyond their own benefit; our community itself symbiotically thrives from their activity.  Perhaps the woman who interviewed my mother found her disability discomforting; but ultimately, that couldn’t deter her from recognizing Mother’s aptitude for the job at hand.  The inclusion was my mother’s; but the opportunities it granted would be most heavily appreciated, not by her, but by the countless masses whose lives she will continue to improve.  In this way, all who have become accustomed to living with disabilities can be counted in the many blessings of our great society, for their activity and inclusion truly leads to opportunities not only for them, but for all of us.