Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with children’s art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day covered our table and the scraps coated the floor. I collected a handful of pieces from my lap and tossed them in the trash. As I was walking back, I overheard Jane, a sophomore in my group, talking to Amanda. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. I firmly clenched my teeth and took a deep breath as I tried to contain my emotions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagined him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I notice people avoid the teenager with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I continue to grow and become more aware of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m also making it a priority to bring awareness of these topics to the clubs that I lead and the sports teams that I’m on. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. To change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skills to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with children’s art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day covered our table and the scraps coated the floor. I collected a handful of pieces from my lap and tossed them in the trash. As I was walking back, I overheard Jane, a sophomore in my group, talking to Amanda. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. I firmly clenched my teeth and took a deep breath as I tried to contain my emotions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagined him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I notice people avoid the teenager with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I continue to grow and become more aware of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m also making it a priority to bring awareness of these topics to the clubs that I lead and the sports teams that I’m on. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. To change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skills to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with children’s art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability.    We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day covered our table and the scraps coated the floor. I collected a handful of pieces from my lap and tossed them in the trash. As I was walking back, I overheard Jane, a sophomore in my group, talking to Amanda. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table.    Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. I firmly clenched my teeth, and took a deep breath as I tried to contain my emotions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagined him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people avoid the teenager with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at or disregarded. I continue to grow and become more aware of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level.   I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school.  I’m also making it a priority to bring awareness of these topics to the clubs that I lead and the sports teams that I’m on. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences.   But I want to do more. To change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skills to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because that isn't what defines those with disabilities, they are what gives them unique abilities like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with children’s art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability.    We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day covered our table and the scraps coated the floor. I collected a handful of pieces from my lap and tossed them in the trash. As I was walking back, I overheard Jane, a sophomore in my group, talking to Amanda. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table.    Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. I firmly clenched my teeth, and took a deep breath as I tried to contain my emotions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagined him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people avoid the teenager with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at or disregarded. I continue to grow and become more aware of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level.   I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school.  I’m also making it a priority to bring awareness of these topics to the clubs that I lead and the sports teams that I’m on. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences.   But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skills to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I collected a handful of pieces from my lap and tossed them in the trash. As I was walking back, I overheard Jane, a sophomore in my group, talking to Amanda. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. I firmly clenched my teeth, and took a deep breath as I tried to contain my emotions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This is how I maintain my mental health, which is the most important aspect of my wellbeing. I play Varsity softball and tennis, I eat well and get enough sleep. But those are the easier things to track. The mental side of things is much more difficult. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else. Focusing on this aspect of my wellbeing will allow me to become the best version of myself.

The feel of chalk in my hand makes me smile. I am transported back to when I was seven, standing next to the desk in my room, stuffed animals sitting on the ground all around me. “Ok class, please turn to page 4 in your textbooks” I say. It’s only an alphabet picture book, but to me, I’m teaching the class invaluable lessons. I close my eyes and fast-forward to a real classroom, one where my purple unicorn and pink bear are real kids. Ever since I was little I have always felt a passion for teaching. Now a senior at Red Bank Regional, I am a member of the Early Childhood Development program. Four days a week, we have a preschool for children in the community called Little Bucs. The students lesson plan, teach the kids four days a week, and communicate with the parents. With this small insight into who I am and what I'm looking forward to in college, I would have to say that Snow White is my favorite Disney character. This is because she takes on the role of a teacher with the Seven Dwarfs. She works with all of them, from Doc to Dopey and gets them working together as a team to clean up and have fun doing it. One of the most important things to me for the next step in my academic career is finding a college with an impressive education program. I want to step foot on campus and know that the next four years of my life will be well spent, learning how best to educate the youth in my community. There are so many issues dividing our country right now and most of it stems from deep-rooted beliefs formed when people were young. I would like to earn my degree and teacher’s certificate to be able to not only become the best teacher I can be, but also the best person I can be. Even today, as I close my eyes and reflect on the person I am becoming, I know that both the seven year old version of me and Snow White would be proud of the path I am on.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I could tell that something was off. People with disabilities are oftentimes talked down to. Watching it happen is like watching someone talk to a toddler, no matter their age. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I collected a handful of pieces from my lap and tossed them in the trash. As I was walking back, I overheard Jane, a sophomore in my group, talking to Amanda. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

The feel of chalk in my hand makes me smile. I am transported back to when I was seven, standing next to the desk in my room, stuffed animals sitting on the ground all around me. “Ok class, please turn to page 4 in your textbooks” I say. It’s only an alphabet picture book, but to me, I’m teaching the class invaluable lessons. I close my eyes and fast-forward to a real classroom, one where my purple unicorn and pink bear are real kids. Ever since I was little I have always felt a passion for teaching. Now a senior at Reg Bank Regional, I am a member of the Early Childhood Development program. Four days a week, we have a day care for children in the community called Little Bucs. The students lesson plan, teach the kids four days a week, and communicate with the parents. One of the most important things to me for the next step in my academic career is finding a college with an impressive education program. I want to step foot on campus and know that the next four years of my life will be well spent, learning how best to educate the youth in my community. There are so many issues dividing our country right now and most of it stems from deep-rooted beliefs formed when people were young. I would like to earn my degree and teacher’s certificate to be able to not only become the best teacher I can be, but also the best person I can be. Even today, as I close my eyes and reflect on the person I am becoming, I know that seven year old version of me would be proud of the path I am on.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I collected a handful of pieces from my lap and tossed them in the trash. As I was walking back, I overheard Jane, a sophomore in my group, talking to Amanda. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.

Tiny red chairs around short tables, bulletin boards with preschool art projects lined the walls of a preschool classroom. In the Childhood Development Academy, high school students design a curriculum and run an actual preschool. This early Thursday morning was our planning day. My teacher called me over and asked if I would share teaching responsibilities with Amanda, a senior who has a learning disability. We began working on the art project for the week in small groups. Little red hearts for Valentine’s Day lined our table and the scraps coated the floor. I collected a handful of pieces from my lap and tossed them in the trash. As I was walking back, I overheard Jane, a sophomore in my group, talking to Amanda. Jane spoke to Amanda this exact way. She talked to her as she would speak to a child, like Amanda was confused and unaware. She turned on her preschool voice and spoke slowly, loudly and high pitched. She was desperately trying to get Amanda to hand her the scissors as if she didn’t trust her to cut out a simple heart. I watched Amanda’s face turn red and she lowered her gaze to the table. Jane turned toward me and we made eye contact. She looked as if she didn’t even realize the impact of her actions. My mind immediately traveled to my cousin who has Joubert Syndrome, which is a disability that affects his motor skills. I imagine him in future situations, looking defeated and embarrassed just like Amanda. I was deeply wounded, feeling both angry and sad at the same time. This moment made me realize that the world needs more love and compassion. I sat back down and included Amanda in everything. I handed her back the scissors and gave her a new piece of paper. She raised her eyes to mine and smiled. This incident with Amanda has now made me more aware of the students with learning differences at my school. I see how people cross the hall and look down at the floor when passing them. I see none of their smiles returned. I notice people pretend to be on their phones to avoid the young man with a disability who returns the carts at our food store. I see how they are laughed at and disregarded. I continue to grow and become more cognizant of the disparities in treatment. I don’t want my cousin to have to deal with these biases; to feel alone and judged. I need to find a way to impact society at some level. I’ve since taken more volunteer roles with my grandmother, who runs an agency that provides services to those with disabilities. I’m trying to let my compassion influence my friends and peers at school, bring awareness of these topics to clubs that I lead, and discuss ideas with teammates. Because, in the end, the important thing is that everyone wants and needs to be treated with respect and kindness, no matter their differences. But I want to do more. In order to change the way people view those with disabilities, we need to educate the future. As an aspiring teacher, I need to enhance my skillset to help develop young students and give them the tools they need to create a more inclusive society where they see people as people without a biased view. I don’t want anyone to feel “less than” due to their differences, because these differences aren’t what define those with disabilities, they are what give them unique abilities just like everyone else.