School (part 5)

For high school, I went to Bert Church High and had the same teacher for all four years. Apparently, I behaved badly towards her when we first met, but I don't remember that.  From that day on, I was as good as gold!  She wanted me to learn life skills, math, finances, and writing letters.  I did it all on the computer or my Liberator. My best subject was math because I have good reasoning and logic skills.  Unlike elementary school, I found reading comprehension the most difficult.  I was a good student who always reminded my teacher of what she was supposed to do that afternoon.  We shared a great sense of humour and I loved to joke with her.

I thought my last year of high school would be exciting. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. The principal was not as inclusive as I would have liked. The first issue involved class pictures. Our entire class was looking very nice for our individual pictures. We went down to the auditorium and I thought our class would be posing on the stairs. In fact, it was in the basement of the auditorium. There was a long staircase leading down there. All my classmates could make it down the stairs except for me.

My classmates suggested they carry me down ("She is a student, and she needs to get her picture taken"). My aide reminded us that the school would be in trouble if anyone fell while transporting me. She went down to talk to the photographers and see what could be done. They offered to come upstairs after everyone else was done or I could come before school started and have my picture taken. During this time, Susan, my sister, came up to me and asked if I had gotten my picture taken. "No, I can't. They won't let people carry me down and I can't get down the stairs."

Susan was mad and we told our parents about it when we got home. They phoned the school and said, "This is ridiculous, why can't you have it someplace accessible?” There was another student in a scooter at our school and he waited until everyone else was done for his picture.  My parents ended up phoning the photographers and we went into Calgary on a weekend so I could have my grade twelve pictures.  By the time it was over, I was fed up with the whole thing.

The other issue happened a few months before school ended; our grade went to practice graduation in the gym. My sister asked where the ramp was to reach the stage. "We don't have one," replied the principal. "What about my sister and Kevin?" Susan asked. "We thought we could come down and give their diplomas to them," the principal replied. Susan argued that it was important to come up on stage and receive a diploma like anyone else. The principal still refused.

I was on the other side of the gym during the discussion and found out when Susan told me what had happened.  She put together a petition, gathering signatures from the other students to have a ramp installed or not have a graduation at all.  She walked into the principal's office with the petition: "Here, if you don't put a ramp to the stage, there won't be a graduation because no one will show up." I felt bad for the other students missing out on graduation if the principal didn't agree to a ramp, but Susan insisted it was every student's right. Luckily, a ramp was installed in time for graduation. The ceremony made me feel like a normal girl receiving a diploma for twelve years of work. Those twelve years flew by for me. They were a milestone in my life.