When I first listened to the story of Vincent, I felt pity for him since he had to constantly live with such a difficult problem. After awhile though, I still felt that sense of sorrow that he had been born with the condition he had, but I also looked at all that he was still able to do, despite the disability.
I also started to see how his life was just like any others, and saw that, despite his condition, he led what many might consider a normal life. He would get up, eat breakfast, go to work (and like many others, not like his job), go home to his family, and go bowling or train for the Special Olympics. This kind of reminded me of my own life except that, instead of a job, I had to go to school and afterwards I might go see a movie with friends.
When the chemical make up in Vincent’s brain started to change, I felt bad that there was nothing he or his family could do to prevent the shift, which would result in some drastic changes in Vincent’s life. Vincent’s frustration and anger at his job really seemed to click with me, since, two summers ago, I agreed to work for my old school (Sycamore School) to help out watering their trees. It was difficult work that didn’t pay well and in some causes, frustrated me greatly. Within the first week my brother and I wanted to quit, and never come back to it, though, as Vincent did, we came back.
The very beginning of the story (where the kids who were put in special ed talked about finally learning what “special ed” really meant) made me think of how people at one of my old schools (Eastbrook Elementary) would think of the special ed kids as stupid, or people who fell behind too many grades, where in reality, they were kids who had disabilities preventing them from learning as well, or as fast, as most other kids could. It surprised me that no one told the kids what special ed meant, and instead let them continue on and then one day just find out for themselves that they were behind other kids the same age as them. I don’t think this was exactly right for the schools to do, because I know, if I suddenly found out that I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was and that by other kids standards I was “stupid” I would feel pretty crappy about myself.
This story really seemed to illustrate that people with disabilities were just like us, they encountered many of the same problems and frustrations we did, they would do much of the same things we did and they would experience some of the same joys we do.
