How An Experience Has Impacted Me

I always knew that there were people who were born differently than others. It wasn’t their fault they had a mentality of a five year old. They didn’t choose to be rejected, and scoffed at by the ignorant youths of today’s adolescents. Volunteering at the 2010 Special Olympics at University School in Davie, Florida touched my heart in a way that transformed my perspective on mentally disabled people. Before, I always knew it was impolite to stare, or point at someone that appeared “different”. However, the six hours I spent cheering on my new friends made me realize that even if you’re mentally disabled, no matter what age, they need friendship and support just like the rest of us. Inside University School’s gymnasium, there were about two hundred special athletes participating. At first, I was astonished to see people as old as what looked fifty here. There were some mentally disabled guys going around introducing themselves and shaking hands. We were in the gym playing basketball, encouraging about five elementary aged children to shoot a basket and try their hardest. I made sure that all they knew that mattered was that it was their day to have fun. I can’t say exactly what disorder or disease the kids had, because, frankly, it doesn’t make a difference in the amount of compassion and respect each one deserves. At each station we taught the group how to play a different game, and after every attempt every kid made with all their strength, we clapped, encouraged, and shouted their names with the biggest smiles spread wide across our faces. I high-fived them, and their appreciation shined back with a big hug of thankfulness. Not one kid ever cried or complained. I was never familiar with how a disabled child acts or what attitude they example in social situations. Being unaware, I expected fits and confusion from these children and adults. I thought to myself that they probably won’t have an understanding of what we’re doing or saying. Maybe just smiling and clapping will appease them. However, after experiencing the interaction and bonding of the few hours I was with them, my expectations and presumptions were gladly proved wrong. Two people who I remember the most from this event were Michael and Larry. Larry was an elderly African-American man, about five feet tall, and well rounded in the middle. Out of the five hoops he shot, he made four. Upon making each basket, he slyly smiled, squinted both his eyes, and while wiggling his hips made a ‘guns up’ gesture. The innocence that burst outwards from his face triggered a smile on me that I couldn’t hide. I met Michael when all the volunteers and athletes were on their lunch break. My friends and I were sitting at a table in the food court when suddenly the guy sitting at the table next to us piped up. Speaking nervously at first, we all welcomed him, and asked if he liked today so far. In any other time, it would have been awkward if a stranger started intruding my friends and me. Nevertheless, we talked to Michael not because we felt sympathy towards him, but because his outgoingness and excitement in his voice captured our attention and hearts. He talked on about how went to the Special Olympics last year, his hobbies, and he even showed us pictures of his friends and family. When time started to dwindle down, we said our good-byes and took a picture with him. No longer will I look at another mentally disabled person as someone who is missing out on life. Anyone as disadvantaged as them, and still remains with a positive determined outlook in life is a true role model. I look at my life, and realize that little materialistic things such as cell phones, trends, and ipods have little meaning in what true happiness in life is all about. Phones break and trends fade, but that package of even a little hope that burns within each and every one of those athletes that day will never die out. I learned to humble myself when a twelve year old taught me to look on the brighter side of life. When you’re mentally retarded or have Down syndrome, social skills, heart regulation, motor skills, and speech skills are all severely handicapped. At the Special Olympics, it seemed as if each became more actively responsive and sociable. Opening up to new friends came natural to them. With all my health intact, after this experience of a lifetime I’ve learned to appreciate my life more. I can freely do everyday activities on my own, and daily routines such as driving I don’t take for granted anymore. Unlike people who have Down syndrome, for example, they’re limited in life as to what they can and can’t do by themselves. Additionally, I’ve learned to enjoy even the most modest things that make life good. Things that I used to never stop to think about make me all the more joyful such as a breezy and sunny day, or going home to a warm bed. I think of Larry, and how ecstatic and rapturous the man looked just by being surrounded by total strangers cheering him on making the basket. A virtuous lesson can be learned even from the youngest and smallest of people. No matter what age, ethnicity, sex, or sexuality one is, they can inspire others to look at life in a whole new perspective. Even someone with an IQ under 70 can teach a lesson to the best of us. A friend is defined as a favored companion. People mentally retarded shouldn’t have to live life alone and isolated. An average person off the street like me can learn to accept someone the way they are with a little compassion and patience. They’re just as different to us as we are different to them. Setting aside our differences, support and camaraderie can be the beautiful result of kindness. The athletes I assisted that day may have been lacking mental stability, but they sure made up for it through their warm personality.