Years ago, I listened to one of my favorite professors in college relate the story of running into a student at Safeway. Apparently this college student had not ever stopped to think about how teachers don’t live at school and have lives outside the classroom which involve eating and grocery shopping and all sorts of normal people adventures. In her telling, his jaw hung loose as he followed her around the store at her invitation, watching her pick up groceries like an ordinary human being.
BFA students are a little different because Kandern is so small and they see teachers all over the place. I can still inspire a small shock in students though. A sophomore looked up from her phone and smiled at me as I rounded the corner to the grocery store yesterday, but she did a double take when she realized I was walking with my Rollator.
“You’re walking!” She told me excitedly.
She followed me into the store and chatted a bit – more than I’d ever heard her talk in a whole semester of Old Testament last year. As we ambled through the store, I thought of the story my professor told me. This student was not so much shocked that I existed outside of school but delighted at the physical improvements she was unaware of. Most students don’t see me walking around campus. It happens occasionally, but the hallways full of teenagers racing to class are not ideal for me to practice my timid steps.
I’m most frequently seen in my wheelchair, so people who don’t interact with me much are often shocked to see me practicing walking. I’ve still got a long way to go, but one of my friends who’s spent more time with me – particularly seeing me go up and down stairs – commented this last Thursday as I wobbled on the steps to get into a friend’s house that it was the first time she’d ever seen me need help. When people ask me if I’m capable of something, my usual response is, “I can do it if you’re patient with me.”
Everyone immediately responds, “Take your time!” But I never believe them. I realized that today as I took a solo lap around the firehouse without my braces. I was willing to take that risk on my own time because I was confident in my skills and wasn’t going to have anyone rushing me along or distracting me with polite conversation. People walking next to me subconsciously increases my pace – I’m either trying to keep up with them or trying not to irritate them with my impossibly slow steps. Unfortunately, this leads to poor quality steps instead of slow and steady practically perfect strides.
I know this because my best walking is at physio with Anja or with Cindy who has no where to be when we are doing laps around the auditorium. If someone slows their pace for a moment to chat with me, I’m panicked into speeding up to not make them late for whatever very important date they are headed to. I make this decision for them, of course, that they are in a hurry, but it’s hard to override.
I am noticeable when out and about, and people feel obligated to politely interact with me. Sometimes it’s just a wave, but more often they want to offer encouraging words and ask about my progress. It’s really kind, and I do appreciate all the encouragement, but I’ve realized that my noticeability makes me less inclined to practice my walking because I’m so embarrassed about my speed. It’s a pride thing, really, that I don’t want to slow people down as they walk down the street.
When I put my pride away and trust that people will walk my pace, I’m actually capable of pretty incredible feats. For example, on Friday at therapy, Anja and I took off down the street without my braces. I was using both sticks at the start as we walked into the sunshine, but pretty quickly, I handed off the left stick to her and just used her hand for balance on that side. My steps were solid and intentional, slow and beautiful. Most of my weight was over my hips as I pushed off my legs to propel my body weight forwards. We traded sides on the way back, and I discovered, to both of our delight, that I was capable of holding her left hand with my right while also holding my left stick in the air for a few steps. It wasn’t completely without help as her hand took some of my weight and helped me maintain balance, but it was a pretty incredible feat for me.
As I click “post” on this entry, I’m making public my struggle with being so public. I recognize the oddity of my struggle, and if you’d like to help, don’t hide from me. If you see me walking, I’m still encouraged by kind words, but if you want to walk with me, maybe slow your pace even more than what I’m doing to force me to keep the quality of my gait instead of trying to impress you with speed. For those of you not inclined to see me irl, I enjoy Harry Potter memes and screen caps of snark and genius from Parks and Rec.
