Personal Narrative: Students With Disabilities In Middle Schools

Before the first grade, we moved around a few times before ending up here in Sylvania. As a child, both my parents worked full time jobs and I was always at after school day cares or at my grandparents houses, never really got to spend a lot of time with friends or was able to socialize with many people. So growing up most of my time was spent with my brother and I thought nothing of it. As I grew up I began to realize that I had become stuck in some bad habits. My brother and I weren't asked to help around the house much but when we were we never listened. But to my surprise there were no consequences for our disobedience. At the time I thought I had it good. Around the time I got too middle school I began to realize the problem. I began

I was adopted by my Grandfather, David Crawford, when I was 11 years old. Along with me (is) my two younger brothers, Nick age 15 and Caleb age 14. Nick has autism and every August through October Saturdays for the past 5 year the whole family has participated in Challenger Baseball, an non profit organization set up in different towns around the United States that provides a positive environment for children with disability to play on a baseball team against other challenger teams. My grandfather actually set up the Bond County district after finding a love for it when Nick played in Edwardsville, Il. Aside from the players there are buddies that help each individual play, buddies help their player bat, run around the bases, play catch, and

From my experience, surviving middle school takes a mixture of luck, naive fearlessness, and an aggressive number of colorful plastic binders. I started my first day of fifth grade a jumbled mess of nerves, anxious about making friends and doing well in class, and inexplicably dressed head-to-toe in red, white, and blue swag my mom got when the Summer Olympics were in Atlanta. I mean, my backpack matched my shoelaces, which matched my pants and my shirt. I might have even had a hat. A hat. A precisely matching hat. That I wore all day. Needless to say, I was not a particularly cool child. I studied hard, had a core group of equally nerdy friends, and constantly worried about whether I was doing the right thing or, perhaps more accurately, becoming the right thing. Was I not studying hard enough to get into college? Or maybe studying too hard, missing out on my youth? Would I grow into my teeth one day? Would my skin eventually stop looking like greasy peanut brittle?

When I hear the word “survival”, I think of someone who has made it through the impossible or conquered a near death experience; but that isn't all that it means. According to the the Merriam Webster dictionary, “A survivor is a person who copes well with difficulties in their life.” Moving from elementary school to middle school taught me many new characteristics such as how to be more independent, responsible, and more open to changes.

Choices. Regardless if the choice is good or bad, everybody makes them. There are times where the choices people make can alter their lives forever; this was one of those times. It was April 26, 2013, a normal friday for me attending West Middle School in my sixth grade year. At the time, I was the definition of an attention freak; I always wanted the spotlight on me. For a reason still not known to this day, I wanted people to feel bad for me. I thought that by gaining sympathy, I would be able to make friends and be the talk of the school. What I didn’t realize is that not all attention is good; some can be devastating. Unfortunately for me, I was not thinking about the effects of the choice that I was about to make. I couldn’t have possibly

In Middle School, where we were still growing up as adults, we did not like following the rules. I was in 9th grade. That day the bell rang for our next class and me and my friends did not want to go to our next class right away. We waited outside the room for our next class and chilled and talked. Me and my friends were in class all day and we wanted to let go of some energy. We kept talking and if our teacher came, we would go into the class right away. Our school did not like students to hang out in the hallway because they made too much noise. We did not care, we still chilled outside the class. We talked about new shoes and what we were going to do after school. It was so much fun because I had not seen my friends since 8th grade and it was the

I walked into the loud building so scared and nervous. I couldn't believe today was the day. The day i'm finally in middle school. That day was the day that I could officially call myself a Vista Verde Middle School student. When I walked into the building the bell had rung for us to proceed to class. On my I spotted one of my very good friends, Esmeralda. After I said hi to her I walked to my first period class which is room 403 and my teacher is Ms. Blasnek.

Middle school, when that word pops up in one’s head, it’s a sudden reminder of dreadfulness,broken promises,regrets,first crushes, and last but not least, learned lessons. Another morning had brought another school day. Seeing familiar faces and teachers I just wanted to get through the day with no trouble, but that’s not always the case. At least it wasn’t for me. Making my way through the extended halls and walls that seemed to enclose upon me, I felt nothing more than like a chained prisoner. The bell rung and I remained seated in my class, surrounded by boxed, outdated computers and rusty white walls, I felt helpless.

I was always the type of kid who would rather study and do homework rather than go out with my friends. All of my friends told me that I took school too seriously and middle school didn’t matter but it did to me. Like a machine, once I started there was no stopping me. My work ethic is strong because I had dyslexia. Dyslexia is a learning disability that affects people with reading, writing and, spelling. My mom has always pushed me to be my best in school. She always told me that my grades do not matter as long as I am giving one hundred percent of my effort. Although to me, the grade did matter. Even though I had extremely excellent grades throughout middle school, I did not think there was any reward for working that hard in middle school.

It was the eve of middle school, I think; I sure wasn't really keeping track. The promised day had arrived, my grades were as sound as a tuned trumpet; and I was just done with a C- in music. However, I kept my behavior to the minimum of a 5th grader; something that was much more welcomed than the awkward and apathetic existence of middle schoolers. I’ve been keeping myself on the down low for a good month when my math teacher announced to us that we would be having a boat trip for the most well behaved student, and take a guess who was first of her list! It was Samuel. However, sure enough I was able to weasel and bribe my way in with compliments and good behavior into the list as seventh place! Even better news was that I could bring a parent

I lived in Sterling, Illinois, in a decent sized house outside city limits. I never actually attended middle school, as I was home-schooled for sixth, seventh, and eighth grades. During home-school, I got to spend all of my day dealing with my siblings (which is worse than it sounds). If it wasn't my siblings, it was my dad, who I don't really talk to as is. Nothing is the matter between us, I just don't talk much. Most of my time not in school or dealing with my family was spent in video games or exploring a nearby forest. There wasn't much between those two, as I only had two friends I talked to. I worried for the longest time that I would go my middle school AND high school years with only those two friends. I wasn't one that could be described

The water has always been a safe haven for me, regardless if it was the ocean or a simple pool. It calmed me and put life into perspective. Growing up I had a minor learning disability that made reading and writing a major obstacle. No one really understood why it didn’t click for me. I was taking classes before school and having tutors in the summer, but it wasn’t enough. After a few years, I was molded to be the athlete of the family and as long as I tried with school, the grades weren’t a huge priority. I caught onto this and was extremely dissatisfied. I wanted to have the same standards as my brother and not just be something because it was a fall back. This label got to me and so I found comfort in a creature that I thought shared a false,

As teachers we need to understand the stress that families can encounter with a child that has disabilities. There are a lot of factors to take into consideration. As teachers we need to encourage the parents or guardian to be involved with their child in side school just as well outside of school. When I am a teacher and I notice that one of my culturally diverse students with disabilities is dealing with behavioral issues that their parents must be as well. As a teacher I would need to first start in the classroom by implementing multicultural activities in the curriculum. I would also get in contact with the parents of the child and try to build a relationship with them and their child. The parents and I could then come up with similar discipline

My traits are I’m a little talkative and also kind of funny but not normally. Along with the fact that I have very bad anger issues. That’s normally when someone makes me mad. That’s when it mostly shows. Also I have a learning disability so it’s hard for me to learn and pay attention.

I was born and raised here, in Flint Michigan, and grew up in a middle class home. Both parents had degrees and both parents worked; my mother’s career in healthcare and father was skilled trades at General Motors. Growing up, the language that I was exposed to for most of my adolescence was what I would consider Standard English. My parents occasionally enforced some grammar rules when we spoke, but more to reinforce the idea that speaking properly to an individual showed respect