Thursday, December 27, 2007

In Such an Era of Political Correctness, Why is the Word "Retard" Still OK?

I recently happened upon this and thought it was very profound.


Soeren Palumbo is a senior honors student at Fremd High School in Wheeling, Illinois, and big brother to Olivia. During Writer's Week (in March 2007), he gave the following speech to a gymnasium full of his high school peers and faculty and received a standing ovation.

"I want to tell you a quick story before I start. I was walking through hallways, not minding my own business, listening to the conversations around me. As I passed the front door on my way to my English classroom, I heard the dialogue between two friends nearby. For reasons of privacy, I would rather not give away their race or gender.

So the one girl leans to the other, pointing to the back of a young man washing the glass panes of the front door, and says, "Oh my gaw! I think it is so cute that our school brings in the black kids from around the district to wash our windows!" The other girl looked up, widened her slanted Asian eyes and called to the window washer, easily loud enough for him to hear, "Hey, Negro! You missed a spot!" The young man did not turn around. The first girl smiled a bland smile that all white girls - hell, all white people - have and walked on. A group of Mexicans stood by and laughed that high pitch laugh that all of them have.

So now it's your turn. What do you think the black window washer did? What would you do in that situation? Do you think he turned and calmly explained the fallacies of racism and showed the girls the error of their way? That's the one thing that makes racism, or any discrimination, less powerful in my mind. No matter how biased or bigoted a comment or action may be, the guy can turn around and explain why racism is wrong and, if worst comes to worst, punch 'em in the face.

Discrimination against those who can defend themselves, obviously, cannot survive. What would be far worse is if we discriminated against those who cannot defend themselves. What then, could be worse than racism?

Look around you and thank God that we don't live in a world that discriminates and despises those who cannot defend themselves. Thank God that every one of us in this room, in this school, hates racism and sexism and by that logic discrimination in general. Thank God that every one in this institution is dedicated to the ideal of mutual respect and love for our fellow human beings. Then pinch yourself for living in a dream. Then pinch the hypocrites sitting next to you. Then pinch the hypocrite that is you.

Pinch yourself once for each time you have looked at one of your fellow human beings with a mental handicap and laughed. Pinch yourself for each and every time you denounced discrimination only to turn and hate those around you without the ability to defend themselves, the only ones around you without the ability to defend themselves. Pinch yourself for each time you have called someone else a "retard."

If you have been wondering about my opening story, I'll tell you that it didn't happen, not as I described it. Can you guess what I changed? No, it wasn't the focused hate on one person, and no it wasn't the slanted Asian eyes or cookie cutter features white people have or that shrill Hispanic hyena laugh (yeah, it hurts when people make assumptions about your person and use them against you doesn't it?).

The girl didn't say "hey Negro." There was no black person.

It was a mentally handicapped boy washing the windows. It was "Hey retard." I removed the word retard. I removed the word that destroys the dignity of our most innocent. I removed the single most hateful word in the entire English language.

I don't understand why we use the word; I don't think I ever will.

In such an era of political correctness, why is it that retard is still ok? Why do we allow it? Why don't we stop using the word? Maybe students can't handle stopping - I hope that offends you students, it was meant to - but I don't think the adults, here can either.

Students, look at your teacher, look at every member of this faculty. I am willing to bet that every one of them would throw a fit if they heard the word faggot or nigger - hell the word Negro - used in their classroom. But how many of them would raise a finger against the word retard? How many of them have? Teachers, feel free to raise your hand or call attention to yourself through some other means if you have.

That's what I thought. Clearly, this obviously isn't a problem contained within our age group.

So why am I doing this? Why do I risk being misunderstood and resented by this school's student body and staff? Because I know how much you can learn from people, all people, even - no, not even, especially - the mentally handicapped.

I know this because every morning I wake up and I come downstairs and I sit across from my sister, quietly eating her Cheerio's. And as I sit down she sets her spoon down on the table and she looks at me, her strawberry blonde hair hanging over her freckled face almost completely hides the question mark shaped scar above her ear from her brain surgery two Christmases ago.

She looks at me and she smiles. She has a beautiful smile; it lights up her face. Her two front teeth are faintly stained from the years of intense epilepsy medication but I don't notice that anymore. I lean over to her and say, "Good morning, Olivia." She stares at me for a moment and says quickly, "Good morning, Soeren," and goes back to her Cheerio's.

I sit there for a minute, thinking about what to say. "What are you going to do at school today, Olivia?" She looks up again. "Gonna see Mista Bee!" she replies loudly, hugging herself slightly and looking up. Mr. B. is her gym teacher and perhaps her favorite man outside of our family on the entire planet and Olivia is thoroughly convinced that she will be having gym class every day of the week. I like to view it as wishful thinking.

She finishes her Cheerio's and grabs her favorite blue backpack and waits for her bus driver, Miss Debbie, who, like clockwork, arrives at our house at exactly 7 o'clock each morning. She gives me a quick hug goodbye and runs excitedly to the bus, ecstatic for another day of school.

And I watch the bus disappear around the turn and I can't help but remember the jokes. The short bus. The "retard rocket." No matter what she does, no matter how much she loves those around her, she will always be the butt of some immature kid's joke. She will always be the butt of some mature kid's joke. She will always be the butt of some "adult's" joke.

By no fault of her own, she will spend her entire life being stared at and judged. Despite the fact that she will never hate, never judge, never make fun of, never hurt, she will never be accepted. That's why I'm doing this. I'm doing this because I don't think you understand how much you hurt others when you hate. And maybe you don't realize that you hate. But that's what it is; your pre-emptive dismissal of them, your dehumanization of them, your mockery of them, it's nothing but another form of hate.

It's more hateful than racism, more hateful than sexism, more hateful than anything. I'm doing this so that each and every one of you, student or teacher, thinks before the next time you use the word "retard," before the next time you shrug off someone else's use of the word "retard". Think of the people you hurt, both the mentally handicapped and those who love them.

If you have to, think of my sister. Think about how she can find more happiness in the blowing of a bubble and watching it float away than most of us will in our entire lives. Think about how she will always love everyone unconditionally. Think about how she will never hate. Then think about which one of you is "retarded."

Maybe this has become more of an issue today because society is changing, slowly, to be sure, but changing nonetheless. The mentally handicapped aren't being locked in their family's basement anymore.

The mentally handicapped aren't rotting like criminals in institutions. Our fellow human beings are walking among us, attending school with us, entering the work force with us, asking for nothing but acceptance, giving nothing but love. As we become more accepting and less hateful, more and more handicapped individuals will finally be able to participate in the society that has shunned them for so long. You will see more of them working in places you go, at Dominicks, at Jewel, at Wal-Mart. Someday, I hope more than anything, one of these people that you see will be my sister.

I want to leave you with one last thought. I didn't ask to have a mentally handicapped sister. She didn't choose to be mentally handicapped. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. I have learned infinitely more from her simple words and love than I have from any classroom of "higher education." I only hope that, one day, each of you will open your hearts enough to experience true unconditional love, because that is all any of them want to give. I hope that, someday, someone will love you as much as Olivia loves me. I hope that, someday, you will love somebody as much as I love her. I love you, Olivia.

Soeren Palumbo

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

There I was, naked in the refrigerator.....

My husband I have this "thing" that we do.

Some who witness it think it is cute, some wonder how we do it, some wonder why we do it, some think we are simply a court hearing away from a much needed vacation at a "spa like facility", and then others just chalk it up to us being us.

What we do, is have complete conversations using only movie lines, punchlines from jokes, or songs. Seriously. And we know exactly what we are saying. Others around us, not so much. But after 15 years of marriage (Holy cow!! 15 years???!!! How did THAT happen?) we have come to be able to communicate on our own level.

Isn't that what marriage is all about? Having fun and laughing with your best friend.

Jay and I have known couples over the past 15 years that have divorced, some couples that are going thru the motions, some that are staying married for the kids, and some that have truly confounded us on why they got together in the first place. But after all is said and done, and I think about what marriage means, I have to pinch myself. I am blessed to be married to my best friend.

I have said it often~~Jay and I are that odd couple that actually likes to be around each other.

One of my away messages for AIM is "Sexiness wears thin after a while and beauty fades, but to be married to a man who makes you laugh every day, ah, now that's a real treat." by Joanne Woodward.

He makes me laugh

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Why HomeSchooling Chose Me

I was one of those moms that was perfectly content to allow my children to attend public school. In fact, the plan, which was heavily in motion, was that once we got settled in Fl. and the kids settled in school, I was going to go back to school, get my masters degree and work my dream job in the county morgue.

Since I first became a mom, I was around home schoolers in my church. I always viewed them as either not playing with a full deck, way more gutsy than I, or both. When the conversation of homeschooling would come up, I would dance around the issue by saying that I didn't have the patience to do that. ALWAYS with the same answer from every one of those moms, God will give you the patience if you just ask Him.

AHA!! An out!! I won't ask! There!! Matter Solved.

Jump ahead 3 years, my son was attending a preschool program for children with disabilities that was an all day program, so I decided to get a job to fill the time that he was at school. The job was a full time job working for a financial services company in Dallas, Tx. I loved it. The people I worked with were great, the job was great, and I was moving up the ladder.

From the time that Dathon was 1, we tried for Baby #2. And tried. And tried. And tried. I started the job in Nov. of 95. Feb. 28th of 96 I found out Baby #2 was on the way. I continued to work until July 31st when pre term labor put me on bed rest. I waited the 6 weeks after she was born, then went back to work and worked til she was 2 and we moved to KC. Once in KC, I decided to stay home with her like I did Dathon. Aubrey and I had a blast, but I was also counting down the days til Kindergarten.

After a move to Va. Aubrey started Kindergarten in Sept. 2002. We were back in the same area where Jay and I met. Back at the same area with the church that we attended that was mostly home schoolers. Once again, I dodged the bullet by saying that I just did not have the patience to home school Aubrey. And, once again, I was not about to pray and ask God to give it to me.

From the first day of Kindergarten it was very apparent that we were not dealing with just an ordinary 5 year old, straight A student that couldn't stay out of trouble.

In the middle of her Kindergarten year, we moved to Fl. Aubrey adjusted well and she was being challenged by the teacher. 1st grade went by fairly smooth. By the middle of 2nd grade we were beginning to get a few phone calls from the teacher.

Also at this time, Jay was beginning to listen to a conservative talk show host out of Atlanta. Jay really enjoyed listening to him and told me about him. I started listening. This guy is a tell like it is, no nonsense, thought provoking, find the truth for yourself, intriguing, funny, smart guy. There wasn't really a whole lot that he said that I disagreed with. One of the things that he tended to get on rants about was "government schools". And, while I agreed with what he said about them, I knew that we couldn't afford private, and I still wasn't about to pray for that patience.

Then third grade happened. WOW, what a year that was. The first part of the year was going by pretty smooth. Then after Christmas break, the phone calls started. At this time, Dathon was having transition issues with Middle School, so it got to a point that I literally dreaded the phone ringing. One day REALLY stands out in my mind. I'm sitting at home, enjoying my day, eating bon bons (YEA RIGHT< like that really happened) when the phone rings and the conversation goes something like this:

ME:sighing as I answer cause I saw caller ID "Hello"
DD's Teacher: "Ms. Mason, can you please talk to Aubrey? We are having an issue."
Now by this time, this is like the umpteenth call, and I am at the point of just losing it. ALL I can think is I am 5 miles away, you are the teacher, what am I supposed to do.
ME: "Yes, put Aubrey on, I'll speak with her"
Aubrey: "Mama, ummm, Mama"
ME: "Aubrey, what is the problem today, this is getting old, that is your teacher, you have to obey her, it is her class."
Aubrey: "Mama, I was trying to explain something to her, but she....
DD's Teacher "She? She? I am no she, you will refer to me by my name"

At this point, Aubrey attempted to explain that she was talking to me, and I'm listening while a 40 something elementary school teacher argues with my child with me on the phone. At one point I wonder to myself which is more pathetic, that the 40 something teacher is actually arguing with an 8 year old, or that she is losing the argument? Eventually, the matter is solved, there is only a couple months of school left for the year and all I can think is, Please Aubrey, pull it together for just a couple more months.

Fourth grade. WOW, we made it to fourth grade. I still had some semblance of the sanity I was desperately trying to hold on to, and Aubrey was in 4th grade. School started at the middle of August. By the middle of Sept. the calls started. At this point, we were dealing with the principal. Her records were pulled. Meetings with the various teachers were called. At this point I was ready to pull out my hair. All I wanted to do was get her settled, so I could go to school. So, I did it. I made the threat. The threat that I had NO intention of following thru on, the threat that I figured was worse than any other threat I had ever made to her. There was no way she was going to defy us with this threat over her head. The threat that if she didn't pull it together I was going to home school her. (OH Dina, what did you just say? Take it back!! Take it back!!) Then the principal even came thru and told her, if she could just pull it together for a couple days, he would just promote her to the next grade. Whew. I dodged that bullet. Surely she would pull it together, be promoted to 5th grade, and that would be the end of it.

Nope! That meeting with the principal was on a Wed. The promotion was to have happened the following Mon. Instead, on that Monday, October 2, 2006 I officially started homeschooling Aubrey. And you know what, I NEVER did pray and ask for that patience before I chose to homeschool. But God knew that I needed it, and He provided it anyway. Even when I was being nudged to pray for it, and I was being rebellious, crossing my arms, stomping my feet, and saying No, God still said, "Dina, My ways are higher than your ways, My thoughts higher than yours, you'll need this whether you like it or not." And, most days I have patience. On those days when I don't...well...those are known as Skip Days.

My First Blog

Ok, I am going to give this a go and see what happens.

Who knows what topics I will choose to put in here.