When the term disability is used, it has an emotion tied to it that is perceived as negative. This topic has taken huge leaps in terms of treating people with disabilities equally in our society, but we still need to continue to build. With saying that, it has been a long road to get where we are today. In the past people with disabilities have been brushed off as defective, inferior, or less than. In the early 1900s it was believed that people with disabilities were a menace, that they should be isolated from the general public because of their different needs. This led to institutions, residential programs, special schools, and education based on the labels that were put on them. Since then, the paradigms have increased significantly. Along the way there has been special classes, resource rooms, and sheltered workshops. Those were a step in the right direction on the path to fair treatment.
When thinking and learning about it further, is having a disability really that negative? I have had the great opportunity to be in a course that has taught me so much about people with disabilities. I have had my eyes opened up to how people with disabilities deserve to be treated just like anyone else. Goodley’s article states, “people with intellectual disabilities seek to be recognized as human”. As a human being, I think about how I would feel if I was treated as if I was less than or below someone else because of a disability I had. I would want to be a part of society just like everyone else. Just because a person may need assistance doing something, doesn’t mean they should be put down or made fun of because of it. People with disabilities can read, write, talk, feel, laugh, just like anyone else can. While reading an article online I came across a statement to start saying “this” ability rather than “dis” ability and it has changed the way I think when I hear the word disability. Everyone has an ability in their own way, some may be different than others, but in the end, everyone has their own unique ability.
Is class something that really exists? Or is it similar to racism in the ways that it is self-created based on the way you look or think about someone. In the five types of knowledge in our notes, we were told about the “personal and cultural knowledge” this refers to the explanations and interpretations people acquire from their personal experiences in their homes, with their family and community cultures. The knowledge gained through these experiences is transferred both explicitly, such as direct lessons taught by family members on what constitutes politeness (e.g., “make eye contact with your elders”), as well as implicitly through messages such as what isn’t talked about (e.g., race or money). When thinking about the story I wrote and comparing and looking for normative narratives in Brandon’s post about Standing out like a sore thumb, it occurred to me that Brandon was put into a situation where there was surely going to be somebody looking at him for the way he was dressed. The appearance he gave off enabled someone else to view him differently than he actually might be. Is that right, no. But he also admits to having been guilty of the exact same thoughts in his life. The line where he says “then I realize I was being looked at for being working class inside of high-class business building” gave me the impression that he was just doing his job but being judged because what the job was, what he was wearing, and where he was. At the end of the day, we are all humans. We all have thoughts and a distorted look at someone can spark a multitude of conversations these days. In Christa’s story about her Free Breakfast, she too has thoughts about people without knowing who they are or what their home life is like. Not only does she realize that some young kids “rely on community or schools for basic life essentials” but also that she is fortunate enough to have the privilege of coming from a family that is stable and is able to provide support and resources when needed.
In my experience with the job I have worked for the past 8 years, I too would be put into the same situation if I entered a building like the one Brandon described. Would I be judged for not being a high-class person dressed for success? Probably yes. I can easily relate and think about experiences where this would be true for me. When comparing his story to my story, there was opportunity for me to be judged the same way for entering a house that was crazy expensive compared to my own. Considering everyone was wearing Halloween costumes this wasn’t the case. If it were on any other day, it makes me think that it is a real possibility that I could have been looked at as less than for my appearance when my friend was from a rich class.
The three blog posts display simple examples of what class we are in and the different ways the classes can be portrayed by the people around us. When somebody looks at somebody thoughts automatically come to mind based on their appearance. Is their hair neat or messy, are their shoes new or old, name brand or not, do their clothes have rips or are they neat? These are all questions that can categorize which class they are from in our minds. These stories will continue to be a reality in many people’s lives based solely on the fact that we as humans seem to always need to identify someone in a way that makes sense to us. Since reading these stories, I too have begun to wonder where I need to go in life on my path to better myself and treat all people as equal. Growing up a popular quote that was instilled in me and the people around me was “treat others just as you would like to be treated”. Thinking back, I am and will be forever grateful for being told that quote. Now, more than ever, I need to continue to live by it.
ii) Disrupting normative narratives
Megan’s self-story displays a different angle than the other stories I have encountered. In her story, the classism was shown by something that happened with her and her family rather than someone else looking at her as less than, or her realizing what class she is in because of what someone else has. She went through a situation where she was on the lower-class side and put into a situation that, for a 10-year-old, would not make any sense. Being a young girl just wanted to go on a field trip for with her friends it would have been devastating to not have the money or food for lunch in order to go. Her story was not about what she was wearing, what her appearance was like, but simply what the income was like for her family at home. Immediately thinking and putting together that her family would slot into the lower class, I thought about how my story, Brandon’s story, and Christa’s story were all middle to working class.
Stories have the ability to silence other stories by just how hard they hit someone while reading. For example, if I was to be in a rich class and something were to happen to me where I was upset because my mom didn’t pack my favourite lunch one day at school. Then looking over to one of my friends not being able to eat lunch at school because they don’t have one is an instance where I would need to realize my privilege and understand I should be grateful I am able to eat. Some people fail to see it this way. It is understanding for children because they are innocent most of the time and need a certain amount of time to realize how the world works. Certain stories can disrupt normative narratives because of the underlying facts that we may not get to know about firsthand. Is there systematic race involved with parents and the opportunity for work is not available? Has there been a change in occupation because of an in injury or a loss. These types of things can play a large role in the class one is put into. You may be slotted into a working class because of the occupation your parents have when you are age 10, but a move to the lower class is possible if the income is not there.
In the post on Debunking the “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps” myth it states that “they’re blamed for their own lack of wealth and shamed when they reach out for help”. Referring to the lower-class people, this could be why in Megan’s story her parents continue to put off the signing of the permission slip for the class field trip. In a way trying to “silence” the fact that the money was not available at the time to send Megan on her trip, knowing that there would be an upset 10-year-old. In the three other stories, the classism was not silenced, my mom knew full well who’s house I was going too for the Halloween party and looking back, I believe she knew that I would realize what classes were which even though we did not discuss it. Brandon was faced head on inside a building filled with high class people, and Christa’s story had her mom explaining why she may or may not have been chosen to have a snack on that particular day. I found the article on Debunking the “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps” myth the most appealing because of the myths that are listed. “We All Have Equal Opportunity, Poor People Just Aren’t Trying Hard Enough” are the two myths listed. After reading all that was said about both of them, reading them again is laughable. Having the opportunity to be wealthy after coming from a poor family is possible, but rarely true. Yet is still accepted by people who fail to see the big picture. “If we lived in a land of equal opportunity, every hardworking American would be able to snag a low-wage job, scrimp and save their way to a stable life, and move up as they gain experience” this quote is a prime example as to how it is not possible to have equal opportunity. How is everyone working for a particular company able to move up and up at the same level as each other, when as you move up job positions, there becomes less of them. Not everyone can be a boss, or a manager, or an executive and the list goes on. This goes to show that the statement of everyone having an equal opportunity, is a bust.
As a young kid growing up, I had thick brown hair. Not only was it thick (just what my hairdresser told me) but it was typically kept short because my mom liked it short, which I understood. Grade 6 had come along and one day I walked upstairs with determination after having cinnamon toast crunch for breakfast and said to my mom “can I grow my hair out a little longer than usual”. At first, she was completely opposed to the idea, but she claimed she would consider it. As I got into the car after school that day there was a weird mood in the air. There was me, my brother, my sister and my mom and nobody said a word the whole way home and nobody really knew why, but I did. Upon arriving at home after the mysterious drive home I went straight to my room, expecting my mom to come up and refuse my request from the morning. Five to ten minutes go by and I can hear my parents discussing something downstairs, but I struggle to truly understand what is being said. Then all of a sudden, it is quiet, very quiet. The next thing I heard was footsteps coming up the stairs and towards my room. My dad opens the door and comes in and jokingly says, “you can grow your hair, but you better not look like a girl”. Being a young kid in that moment, I didn’t really think much of it.
Waking up the next day I wanted to pay more attention to the lengths of hair people had at school and which gender they were. As we got in the car to go to school the next day, I was on a mission. But as I got in the car I looked up at my mom, then looked down, but something was different that morning. I looked back up and noticed she had short hair. I had obviously known this prior to that day, but it was intriguing to me. When we arrived at school I got out of the car and immediately was looking around for people to see how long their hair was. It was nice enough to be outside before the bell rang, so there were a few teachers and all the students outside. There was two female teachers and one male teacher. One female teacher had long hair and the other had short. The male teacher had short hair. I found this interesting. Next was the students, there was all the hair lengths and styles one could imagine. When I took the time to truly look, there was all different lengths between males and females. In my head I am thinking “who is my dad to tell me I would look like a girl, and why would that be so bad?”. Just because I am a boy, what does it matter how long my hair is. I was truly blown away by his comment and wow did I ever have some words for my dad when I got home.
This entire scenario has stuck with me since that day and every time a topic comes up about gender it comes back to me. Yes, I am a male and have understood that for a long time, but I also understand how to respect people for which gender they are and not think differently about them for who they are. It is an ongoing topic in the world, and I continue to read and learn about gender equality.
Growing up and going to school with basically the same students all my elementary years was pretty normal. I typically grew up with the same group of kids, playing sports with most of them outside of school like soccer and hockey and saw a lot of their homes because of birthday parties and get togethers because of the sports we played. But I never saw a home that blew me away.
In some cases, during my elementary years some students would leave, and we would gain some new students, but not very often. To start out our grade 7 school year, we had a new student. This new student was not like the rest of us. He carried a certain attitude, one that none of us had really experienced before. In the beginning I never really gave much thought as to what it was about this certain individual that made him stand out. A few weeks into the school year I began to notice the shoes he was wearing, as well as the clothes he was wearing. He always seemed to have new clothes that appeared to be expensive, but I never gave it any real thought. Over time, he began to gain many friends and was eventually the most popular kid in our grade. At that time in our lives, being popular was a pretty big deal.
The end of October was rolling around and that meant Halloween. A week before Halloween the new student in the class brings a bag full of invitations to a Halloween party that he and his family would be hosting at his house. We were all pretty excited to spend some time away from school together as a class, not knowing what was in store for us. Upon arriving to his house, which was just a short drive from mine, my jaw dropped to the floor of my mom’s car. I turned to my mom and asked, “are you sure this is the right house” and she said, “yes look at the decorations, this is the right house”. As I sat in awe of the huge house, I got out of the car and walked past the two lifted trucks sitting in the driveway. There were Halloween decorations everywhere, spiders hanging from the wall and skeletons sitting on the steps. It was pretty creepy walking up to the front door, considering I was not convinced that this was my new friend’s house. The only thing I could think about was how rich his family must be for them to own this huge house. After ringing the doorbell, his mom answered and welcomed me inside. Walking into the house it was even more decorated inside. Spider webs hanging from a chandelier above my head that was easily worth more money than my entire house. Everywhere I looked I said to myself “wow”. I had never been inside such a beautiful home.
This was my first real experience of realizing where my family stood in the terms of a class. My family owns a business and works long hours, sitting us in the working class, whereas that friend’s family in grade 7 was clearly in the wealthy class and it was a crazy experience.
It is hard to pinpoint one specific memory during my schooling where I “noticed” that others have a different colour of skin than I did. I say this because looking back, the elementary school I went to was an amazing environment that welcomed anyone and everyone and made them apart of our family, or at least that’s how I saw it. As students we were consistently taught to treat others how you would like to be treated. Were there times where kids were picked on and bullied? Yes, just like any other school there was times of trouble. Some kids are really mean even when they might not know any better. The bullying that I encountered or heard about was never because of someone’s skin colour. At our school everyone was equal and that was how we were taught to look at the world. Little did I know that outside of the school the world was a very racist and hateful place. When I moved on to high school, it was very similar in the way that I never encountered any situations where there was a conflict because of colour of skin. Now that is not to say that there wasn’t any because I obviously cannot speak for everyone, but that was my experience.
Looking back and thinking deeper about the question, I began to think about the schoolwork we were doing. Even though it was a number of years ago, I remember the textbooks. More specifically how there was mainly white people in the textbooks. At the time I would have thought nothing of it. Looking back now if I put myself in someone else’s shoes and not seeing anyone in the textbooks that have the same skin colour as me, it would make me feel out of place. I would start to ask questions as to why that is and why I do not see people with the same skin colour as me.
It is clearer today than ever for me as to how prevalent racism is and how people can be so racist. Since the Black Lives Matter movements began, I have been wanting to learn and educate myself more about racism. I have learnt about white privilege, and how divided our society is. It is truly sad we live in a world where someone is treated differently because of something that is out of their control, that being their skin colour. I struggle to understand why I should have more opportunities in life based on the colour of my skin. It is something I have grown very passionate about and I want to continue to educate myself and try to understand why these things are happening in our world.
Not a breath of wind to be had, it was a beautiful day. As the sun was shining through the window in the classroom, there was a buzz in the room. The buzz was all my classmates chatting about the trip ahead. We were going skating on an outdoor rink as a class and we were ecstatic. In previous years, we had asked for a trip to go to the rink, but the weather was unforgivingly cold and windy every time we talked about going. Not this year, as the sun was shining, and it was a perfect day. We were very fortunate to go on multiple class trips, but there was something about that day that will stick with me forever. We got all dressed up to go outside to the bus and load up the bus with our gear. Being in grade 5, we were at the point that we weren’t too cool to go skating, so everyone was really excited to go.
We spent the entire afternoon outside on the rink sharing laughs and jokes while playing hockey and skating together. The part that will stick with me the most is being at the end of the rink taking a break, feeling the sunshine and feeling truly happy on the inside. Being able to play the game I love with all of my classmates was an amazing experience. As a class, we were given the opportunity to get away from the classroom and get a break from the schoolwork. Watching everyone skate and play a big game of hockey was awesome to see. Everyone was getting along, joking with each other, and sharing the trip as a group was a special feeling. Being with all of my friends and not having a worry in the world was a moment that has stuck with me. Being in a location that was outside the classroom, allowed us to communicate in a different way. Some kids who struggled to make friends, were making friends that day. Everyone was having fun and being friendly towards one another. It allowed us to grow as a class and become closer.
I relate this experience to being Canadian because of the time we spent outside doing something that has a reputation of being very popular in Canada. Skating is a popular activity and playing hockey is Canadas major sport. Even if it wasn’t a competitive game of hockey, it does not matter. We were all participating, and no one thought bad of anyone if they could not skate as well as someone else. Even though there were not many people who had experience playing hockey, we still had everyone participate in some way or another. This experience is Canadian not only because of skating, but also because our teacher brought hot chocolate for all of us if we wanted a break. This allowed us to take a break and socialize while still being able to watch everyone skate. Taking huge strides as classmates to be able to sit down and learn more about other people who you may not know much about.
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