Exciting stuff!

My Mum is selling the family home, which means I need to find somewhere else to live! The only problem is that wheelchair-friendly rentals are few and far between. I’ve been looking for 3 months and found virtually nothing, and I’m getting desperate!

So if you know of anyone that deals with rental properties who might be worth chatting to, please send me an email with their details – I’d be super grateful!

Thanks heaps in advance,
Red

In the interest of context, allow me to recap the last few weeks as concisely as I can. Taking my first ever lesson at Massey High School was a pretty big deal. You know, we spend years at University; months contemplating teaching; weeks at Teachers’ College; and it all comes down to one hour, one period, one lesson to answer the big question: can I do this? The answer, I’m delighted to report, was a resounding yes.

It was, in fact, quite the momentous occasion. Going in to my first practicum, I had several obvious hurdles to overcome, and would discover several more in the first few days. How would I cope with not being able to write on the whiteboard? Does it matter that I’m perpetually 4ft? Will the students take me seriously? Will I manage, wheels ‘n all?

So as you can imagine, getting that first lesson under the belt and putting a cautious tick in the “viable career option” box was a huge accomplishment. Since then, things have got better and better.

Please don’t misconstrue my excitement as ego, I’m well aware that this is but a small step on the long road to becoming an accomplished teacher. My mentors make it look so damn easy, and teaching can be really bloody difficult. But the mere fact that I have conquered the first few hurdles and put many head-scratching colleagues’ evident concerns to rest gives me a huge sense of achievement. We need to celebrate our successes, however insignificant!

So, on to what happened today. Yesterday, my lecturer Ngaire Hoben observed me teaching a Year 13 Media Studies class, and my students – bless them – were all so conscious of “being good” that they turned into this terrifyingly silent bunch of teenagers. THEY ARE NEVER SILENT! Anyway, as a token of my thanks I brought in some chocolate for them to munch on during last period. In exchange, I asked them to fill out a short feedback form on yesterday’s lesson – “One thing I liked” / “One thing I thought could have been better”. They all did it, and I’ve just flicked through the responses.

Wow. Their responses were astonishing. They were genuine, well-considered, thoughtful responses that will really aid my teaching from here on in. Suggestions like “Spend a little more time on the middle part of the lesson”, and “Go through some of the techniques used in the film to help refresh our memory” epitomise the level of conscious feedback I received. Reading the “stuff they liked” was also really useful, helping me to understand which elements of the lesson resonated with them. I also got some hearts and smiley faces which, you know, never hurts!

It’s really staggering just how little my wheelchair affects my ability to teach, really. I’ve started using a wireless bluetooth keyboard in conjunction with my laptop to allow me to record class discussions on the board – it’s just brilliant. Much better than a whiteboard! And apart from the odd question about whether or not my wheelchair is “fun” (?!), the students are largely unfazed by it. Truly, it’s something of a revelation. And so encouraging. I’m so excited by what’s to come next!

BRING IT ON!

The greatest thing about Be. Accessible is that it really is the perfect execution of what I’d hoped to create with this site, Walking is Overrated. And I feel incredibly honoured to have been able to work with Minnie Baragwanath, Qiujing Wong and the rest of the Be. Team to make it a reality!

Anyway, if you haven’t heard of Be. Accessible, check out the website at www.beaccessible.org.nz.

I’m sure you’ll agree it’s awesome.

So my van’s carked it, again. And it’s going to cost thousands to fix. Excellent news!
It has, however, pushed me to consider getting a new vehicle. I’ve had this one for 7 years now, and it’s cost me almost $4,000 at the mechanic’s in that time. I think I’m due. Plus, if I want to gain employment, reliable transport is a must. And as we all know, public transport + wheelchair does not always equal reliable!

I had a look around and made the startling discovery that for a new, hoist and hand control-equipped car, I’m looking at around $80,000. As absurd as this sounds, it makes sense given the way ACC seems to readily fork out for new cars for their clients, while the rest of us have to dig into our own pockets for that sort of cash.

I’ve also decided that if I’m going to go down this long, arduous process of applying for funding, I only want to do it once. So I’m gunning for a new car. Something like this looks awesome. You might think it’s extravagant and yes, price-wise it most certainly is. But think about this – for the average person pursuing a new career, the assertion “I want reliable transport so I’m going to invest in a new car” would be met with murmurs of approval, of sensibility. That’s because it might only cost them, say, 20k. But $80,000? Ridiculous.

So. Where to from here? I guess I was hoping for some advice/guidance/suggestions around funding avenues. Which agencies/funding streams have you had success with? What other alternatives have you pursued? Any other considerations I should factor in? Sausage sizzles? Ha!

Thanks team!

A lot tougher than I’d anticipated, actually. 3 weeks ago, one of the interview panel for Teachers College asked me, “Have you considered the challenges you’ll face, teaching in a wheelchair?”. Naively, I scoffed at his question. “Every day is a challenge, mate”, I thought. “I’ve spent 24 years negotiating hurdles, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

But I was wrong: this truly is a whole new ball game.

For many of the obstacles that present themselves in my day-to-day life, it’s simply a matter of finding another way of doing things; another route, if you will. Stairs? Take the lift. Can’t reach the box of Corona? Ask someone to grab it for me.

Easy.

Many of the solutions I find for negotiating everyday tasks are sub-par in comparison with their able-bodied alternative. Lifts can be slower – and more prone to breaking down – than stairs. Asking someone to pass me a pack of beer takes a little longer than grabbing it myself. In most cases, however, the difference between the two routes is negligible.

Here’s the kicker: I fear that the impact of my alternatives to common teaching practices will be far greater. For example, I’m currently grappling with how to negtiate some fairly fundamental pedagogical tools, such as writing on the whiteboard and visiting students at their desk to assist them with their work. Some obvious solutions to these (and indeed, ones that I initially thought would mitigate said issues) would be to use OHPs instead of the whiteboard, and to encourage students to visit my desk, instead of the other way round.

While those alternatives appear reasonable solutions, the reality is that they, too, are sub-par. And this time, it doesn’t just add a few minutes to my day. It affects my ability to do my job, the school’s confidence in my pedagogical competency, and ultimately, my students’ quality of education.

So I need a new approach. I was chatting to a good friend of mine last night, and he observed that I “need to reinvent teaching”. A lofty goal indeed, but it was hugely liberating to hear. In a way, hearing those words gave me permission to seek more radical alternatives. Teaching is the type of profession that is so ensconsed in its own history, its own traditions and pedagogical tools, that ‘the way to teach’ is rather prescribed. But I need to re-prescribe.

“Not just different – better”.

I came up with that pithy (and thoroughly unoriginal, I know) catchphrase last night after a great talk with my ever-supportive better half. It encapsulates how I’m beginning to feel about approaching my teaching career. It’s not enough just to find stop-gap solutions to things I can’t do, or things I find hard to do. I need to find better ways of teaching that suit my individual circumstances. I need to draw upon the skills and competencies I already have, and infuse them with a fresh approach to one of the oldest professions in the book.

Not an easy task, granted. But it’s got to be done.

So let’s get to it.

It’s all very exciting, and am currently in my third week of a Grad. Dip. Secondary Teaching at the University of Auckland.

As such, I’ve been a little bit preoccupied, and I apologise sincerely for that. But I’m about to post my thoughts on my brief foray into teaching thus far, so I hope you get something out of that and keep checking back in every now and then. I’ll still be posting!

What are you all up to for 2011? Drop me a comment and let me know!

A LEADING domestic violence researcher says studies indicate up to half of all women with disabilities will be subjected to physical or sexual abuse.

Women’s Affairs Minister Hekia Parata will this week launch a new self-help and awareness booklet, Domestic Violence and Disabled People.

The book was produced by the Domestic Violence and Disability coalition.

Coalition member and women’s issues advocate Debbie Hager said the rate of abuse of disabled women was “horrendous”. While a comprehensive nationwide study had yet to be carried out, available research indicated up to half would be affected.

Full article here.

I’m speechless, really. Philip Patston sums it up well, though:

Instead of saying “disabled kids need your help because bureaucracy is inefficient and you might as well make a donation and make your tax dollar go somewhere useful,” some half baked advertising exec has come up with a heart-wrenching diatribe of worrisome, fearful, world-shattering, devastating, agonising testimony from weary parents.

What do you think?