Today's news is that Senator Ted Kennedy passed away, but I am still thinking about his sister, Eunice Kennedy Shriver, who died two weeks ago on August 11.
When Shriver created the Special Olympics in 1968, I was 11 years old. I don't remember hearing about it then and I've never known anyone who's participated in it. Even so, I know that the very existence of the Special Olympics, and its influence over time in changing people's opinions about the mentally disabled, had a huge impact on me.
When I arrived in Albuquerque from New York in the summer of 1989, I was desperate for a teaching job. (At that time I had one year of teaching experience to my credit.) Despite numerous interviews and good feedback, I had no solid prospects for work. In Albuquerque, currently employed teachers weren't required to announce their intentions to return to work until right before the school year started. The best I could hope for, with one year of out-of-state experience, was to get hired in mid-September or October, after the school year had begun.
Three months of unemployment wasn't going to work for me. When I saw a help wanted ad in the local paper for teachers at the Los Lunas Hospital and Training School, I called for an interview. I wasn't sure what kind of school it was, but I'd always been fond of hospitals. "Training" sounded like a good thing, too.
My biggest concern was that Los Lunas was an 80-mile round trip drive, with most of it on I-25. New Mexico highways were death traps masked in asphalt – I may have been new in town but I already knew that. New Mexico drivers had (and have) an extreme fondness for driving drunk; even the driving instructors do it! (Things may have improved somewhat since I left the state. But maybe not.)
The few locals I knew told me the commute would be the least of my problems: Didn't I know that LLH&TS was "the mental hospital"? (It hadn't officially been called that since 1955.) Why would I want to work there?, they asked.
I didn't know for sure that I did want to work there, but I had no reason not to look into it. I give full credit to Eunice Kennedy Shriver for my nonchalance.
The man who interviewed me at LLH&TS was a doctor or a director or both; I don't remember. The interview took place in his office and it went well enough that I earned a tour of the facilities.
In the hallway we passed about a dozen residents, accompanied by teachers or aides. Some of the residents shuffled slowly; others walked with an awkward, twisted gait; and a few seemed to be blind. Some of the residents looked at me, slack jawed and silent; others noticed me and called out sounds I couldn't interpret. I had not given any thought to how the residents would look or behave, and I caught my breath and kept my smile fixed.
A few minutes later we were in a large classroom. In my memory this room is packed with 50 or so older residents crowded around large work tables. But most likely there weren't more than 25 people altogether, including teachers and aides. Between the banging on the wood tables and the shouts of excitement because a stranger had walked into the room, I felt my cool start to crumble. I am chagrined to acknowledge, even today, that I was scared. The noise was overwhelming, the unfamiliarity of it all pressed in on me, and I started to cry.
My interviewer was unfazed. He led me out of the classroom – just like the aides I had seen leading residents through the halls moments ago – brought me back to his office, and handed me a box of tissues.
I blew my nose and apologized.
"That's all right," he said. "You lasted longer than a lot of other people."
He said it matter of factly, without anger or disappointment. So after a few breaths I asked him: "How do you do this?"
"I don't see that the people here are any different from you or me. We're all the same."
I don't see that the people here are any different from you or me.
I have thought about this man and his shrug of a reply many times. (We both agreed the job wasn't a good match for me, by the way.) Eunice Kennedy Shriver once said, "all human beings are created equal in the sense that each has the capacity and a hunger for moral excellence, for courage, for friendship and for love."
I never met Ms. Shriver, but I did once get to meet a man that I'm sure she would have liked.
