Changed Forever in the Best Possible Way by Gabrielle

Changed Forever in the Best Possible Way by Gabrielle - April 2022 Scholarship Essay

A smile, a silent laugh, a tight hug, a slap, a punch, a bite. Where did it go wrong? Or did it? Is this daily life or an isolated incident? The pictures on social media can be so deceiving to someone on the outside. Someone not living your life. Someone not living with a child with a disability, an intellectual or developmental difference.

This is a life I experienced while volunteering at both Catholic Charities Camp I am Special (CIAS) and CAMP ASCCA Easter Seals. These were the weeks and weekends that changed my life in the most beautiful and unexpected way. This is where I developed a deep love and a better understanding of the world outside of my bubble.

Walking into this experience, spending time with children and adults with autism, Down Syndrome, cerebral palsy to name a few, I wasn’t sure what to expect. At the very least, I thought I would be able to put a smile on my camper’s face and impact her life in some small way. My camper ended up being the one to constantly put a smile on my face and impacting me in ways she will never know. I didn’t think it would end in tears, but it did. Who wants to leave behind the place that made everyone feel loved and welcomed no matter what? The place that so many call the ‘happiest place on earth.’

After spending part of my summers at Camp I am Special and Camp ASCAA, I knew in my heart that it is my lifelong goal to make a difference in their lives, the way they have made a difference in mine. A profound difference. Whether through volunteering or a career, I know I want to continue to work with the special needs population for the rest of my life in some capacity. Each week, I spent at camp, I was faced with a new set of challenges that I would have to overcome. Each one of these challenges taught me a lesson. In many cases, my camper was nonverbal. I would have to find other ways to communicate with them and understand what they were trying to tell me. This taught me to be patient because sometimes it was hard to understand what they were trying to communicate with their gestures, facial expressions, or noises.

Let me introduce Ricky. A large girl with the power of superwoman. Ricky had no words, but she had gestures, lots of gestures. Her hugs hurt but I knew they meant I love you, thank you and/or I want something. A slap wasn’t vicious or mean, it meant she was overstimulated, frustrated, or just annoyed. She loved the playground. It brought her joy like nothing else could. She ran to it any chance she got, often leaving me without finishing a meal, making my bed, or even brushing my teeth. I chased her, laughing, almost crying to myself, because the pain I felt for her was overcome with happiness that she got to experience summer camp, just like any other child did. She got to swim, dance, swing, ride bikes, pet horses, everything ‘normal’ kids get to do.

At the end of the week, Ricky’s mom hugged me, looked me in the eyes with tears in hers and just said ‘thank you.” I knew what she meant. I knew what she went through daily, and I knew that this week was a reprieve for her and a well-deserved break. She trusted me, a teenager, with her daughter. And, in return, I let her know that I was the lucky one. I was the one that was changed forever in the best possible way.