What’s so Special About Special Needs

The way I get what I want and need might be different or I might need a bit of help along the way. It is still just as important for me as it is for you to have my needs met. But that doesn’t mean my needs are any different or less important. In some ways, that’s what “special” needs seems to imply—that my needs are not the same as yours or the “special” takes away from their importance. (from I Don’t Have Special Needs

I wonder what people without disabilities are thinking and feeling when they read these words. Sometimes I wonder whether they question how many politically correct terms we will go through before we can find a way to talk about disability–because calling it something different, or even worse, not talking about it doesn’t make it go away.

I grew up in an era when the word “handicapped” had no stigma attached to it. It was normal–and not necessarily uncomfortable–for me to hear my parents and teachers use the words “blind” and “visually handicapped” interchangeably when talking about me. All books from the time period use these terms. They have now been rewritten so that “visually handicapped” is replaced with “visually impaired”.

Perhaps the first sign in my life that things needed some moderation was my reaction to what happened at camp when I was eight years oldd. During the previous year, I had tried attending a camp at the school for the blind. That didn’t go so well–I didn’t tolerate being away from home very well. So this year I was trying a day camp with children with various physical disabilities.

But I found out that there was another camp being held for children who were “retarded”. I remember being disturbed by this fact. I had friends from school who were attending that camp. We rode the bus together, and I had been to their homes. Why did they need a separate camp?

Was it the “R” word that Bothered me?

Not really. But it was the word that was used as a definer, to give them their separate camp.

Moderation is the key.

Since 1980, the word “handicapped has fallen out of favor. I have always had ambivalence about this. Is there a real difference between “visually impaired” and “visually handicapped”? Is there a difference between “disability” and “handicap’? No. But this is the way of “political correctness”. So I went along. That is what I did as a person with a disability, growing up in the sighted world. Ironically, now that is what I did as a person with a disability in the disabled world. What did it matter how I felt about the words people used?

The 1990s came and went. During those years, people stumbled around looking for all kinds of new terms in order to avoid using the word “handicapped”. I listened to sighted people stumble over ‘”visually challenged” (please pass the barf bag) and “b-b-b-b-b-b-blind” (lightning really won’t strike if you say it), “sightless” (barf bag please, it’s not 1900), “unseeing,” “non-seeing,” etc. I met people who said they were “handicapable” and one who said he was “handi-abled”. What message, exactly, would a person take away from that? All I got from it is that he was uncomfortable with himself and wanted to pass that discomfort along to me by not dealing with the reality of his condition openly.

Textbooks were rewritten so that “special education” became “exceptional teaching” and “handicapped” or “handicaps” first became “disabilities” and then “exceptionalities”. “Retarded” first became “intellectual disabilities” and then “developmental delays”. Later, “special needs” became favorable. This was the terminology I used in a chapter for an academic text in 2011, which was published in a second edition in 2015.

During my seminary study, I tried to figure out how to put my feelings as a person with a disability into some kind of framework. Someone asked whether I preferred to be called “blind” or “visually impaired”. I explained that I really don’t care that much which term a person uses, though if I am trying to communicate to a person that I have some usable sight (which I do) I will say that I am visually impaired. On the other hand, if I am setting the stage to explain that I cannot do a task, I will say that I am blind. What a confusing mess I am creating. How much easier it would be if people’s concept of blindness was not a life of total darkness.

So do I have “special needs” or not?

Yes, I do.

I have some needs that are the same as yours. And I have some needs that are “special” or “different. Is there something “wrong” with that? Well, I don’t think so. I have special needs that are related to blindness, special needs that are related to living with migraines, and even some special needs that are related to some other aspects of my life.

When we treat each other as “all the same”, we can become desensitized to each other’s areas of need. Part of what makes a society function with empathy is the ability to recognize difference without looking down upon it. Why not acknowledge that yes, we do in fact have “special needs” alongside our shared needs. Why not stop this roller coaster that is the attempt to erase disability/difference from our existence and instead assist the rest of the world in their attempts to come to terms with what it is? Instead of cleaning up the mess and pretending that it never existed, why not find a place for it in the room?

About Sarah Blake LaRose

Sarah Blake LaRose teaches Biblical Hebrew and Greek at Anderson University School of Theology and Christian Ministry in Anderson, Indiana. She is one of three blind academic scholars who received the Jacob Bolotin Award from the National Federation of the Blind in 2016 in recognition of innovative work in the field of access to biblical language texts and tools for people who are blind. In addition to her work as a professor, she provides braille transcription services specializing in ancient languages. Her research interests concern the intersection of disability, poverty, and biblical studies.

About Sarah Blake LaRose

Sarah Blake LaRose teaches Biblical Hebrew and Greek at Anderson University School of Theology and Christian Ministry in Anderson, Indiana. She is one of three blind academic scholars who received the Jacob Bolotin Award from the National Federation of the Blind in 2016 in recognition of innovative work in the field of access to biblical language texts and tools for people who are blind. In addition to her work as a professor, she provides braille transcription services specializing in ancient languages. Her research interests concern the intersection of disability, poverty, and biblical studies.

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