I was a pretty ordinary kid growing up. I babysat, went to school, enjoyed sleepaway camp in the summer and hung out with friends. When I was a teenager I got a retail part-time job and went to university. I even saved enough money to travel to Europe. Me and millions of other people.
For many young people with disabilities these ordinary life events are out of reach. And that probably doesn’t surprise you once you think about it. In fact, in a recent national survey conducted by Holland Bloorview Kids Rehabilitation Hospital, 45 per cent of Canadians said that they believe kids with disabilities lead less fulfilling lives than those of typically developing kids.
But that doesn’t have to be so.
Having a disability doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.
There are some kids who may not speak or walk, but they still experience joy, friendship and the love that comes from being a part of a family.
I’m lucky enough to witness this practically every day.
If everyone could see what I see, I’m convinced Canadians would rethink their beliefs about childhood disability. Like any child, kids with disabilities experience happiness and fulfillment in a variety of different ways.
For some kids, fulfillment comes from beginning to communicate with their family through technology specially designed and customized to their needs. For others it may be playing with their siblings, or watching the Blue Jays win a wild card game to get a spot in a pennant race!
For others, it might be becoming more mobile through therapy or prosthetics, less anxious or more adept at social interaction with peers. Or it might come from being able to play music with assistive devices, or from being able to paint or perform in a play.
Kids with disabilities need to be seen for their strengths and the meaning they bring to their own lives and those who love them. And they should never be defined by a diagnosis.
I want to challenge Canadians to rethink how they view disability, and ask them to shift their thinking about what makes for a rich and full life.
At the same time we’re conducting promising research to better understand quality of life as it relates to children and youth with disabilities. We’re exploring areas such as barriers to inclusion, employment and accessibility, friendship and life-skills development, and how all of this contributes to overall satisfaction. Because the disability isn’t in the child, it’s the barriers that stand in the child’s way and each of us can do something about those.
While there is a growing body of research, we already know that children with disabilities are first and foremost, children. They want to play and laugh and make friends like any child.
Not surprisingly, science continues to show the value of friendships, education, and participation to the development of children with disabilities.
That’s why it’s crucial that as a society, we enable children with disabilities of all kinds to go to school, make music, play video games, communicate, engage in physical activity and participate in recreation. For youth and young adults with disabilities, that should extend to acquiring job readiness and life skills, and achieving other life goals.
I’m seeing goals and dreams realized time and time again.
I’m inspired by Emily, a former inpatient at Holland Bloorview who in another era might never have led an independent life and who today is a student at the University of Toronto who is planning a career in government so she can change health policy.
I’m moved by four-year-old Wesley, who overcame a brain tumour and with the best medical care, a lot of therapy, and a devoted family, recently lived out his dream when he completed his first kids’ triathlon.
And I’m touched by the generosity of Rhea – a five-year-old sparkplug who has become quite the successful fundraiser for our hospital, after battling back from a rare condition that almost took her life.
So many families of kids with disabilities have told me that while their child’s life may be a bit different and while they might need a little extra help, their child’s life is rich, fun, and full of possibility. They only wish everyone, in the mall, on the street, in the playground, saw their kids the way they do.
Fulfillment, life satisfaction, happiness – for any child, with or without a disability, and their family these things are deeply personal and individual. And that fact should not only be acknowledged, it should be embraced.
So I’m urging Canadians to look at kids with disabilities the way we do at Holland Bloorview. We see their possibilities, not disabilities, and build on the strengths of kids and their families. Why does it matter what you think? Because what you think becomes what you do. The job you offer, the team you coach, the art program you run, the trip you organize. Your actions can remove barriers.
And it’s the barriers that are the disability not the kid.