When does helping become over-helping? When does providing aid become counterproductive?

These questions epitomize one of the biggest challenges I have ever faced in my professional career. When should I hold back help and let another attempt to reach these peaks of success on their own. Can providing too much assistance become demeaning? This may seem counterintuitive to many readings, and the mantras from the #write4good and #iam4 campaign. As neophyte high school teacher in Las Vegas and a Teach For America corps member, I feel as though I must empower and provide assistance in every possible facet to my students. However, I want to be able to balance providing tools and empowerment for growth with watching my students make these gains on their own. What will happen when I am not there to provide guidance? What will they do when they are struggling with homework or when they move on next year? How can I ensure that all of these gains are maintained?

This difficulty is epitomized in a previous role I held as a Graduate Assistant and Access Specialist for a Disability Resource Center. I was responsible for working with incoming collegians that were diagnosed with a range of impairments. These students required note takers, screen readers, audio books, and computer programs to assist them to handle a demanding course load. But my most important responsibility was running a peer mentorship program. This program matched incoming and transfer students with seniors and upperclassmen. The Peer Mentor program was extremely beneficial to incoming students who were struggling with the pressures of coming to a new college and also having a disability. As a young professional, undertaking such a program was initially very difficult and time consuming. I had to encourage new students to take parting the program, interview and higher mentors, match these mentors with incoming collegians based on interests and similar areas of study. The organizational aspect was complex, but fit into one of my strengths as a meticulous planner. Working with the mentors was also easy as we both believed in the vision of the program. The difficult part was coming to grips with my own views on the “right” way to help others.

As the grandson of two deaf grandparents, I was exposed to individuals with disabilities at a very young age. There were lights attached to the doorbell in my home as well as a TTY machine attached to the phone to take calls. My late mother was an interpreter for her parents growing up and a career counselor for individuals who were deaf and had multiple disabilities. She would help prepare her clients for interviews and work with them at new jobs until they were settled. Having these experiences afforded me the opportunity to know how important interactions with individuals with disabilities can be. Make sure you are in someone's field of vision and you do not vary your speech pattern (slow down or raise your voice), while communicating with individuals that are hearing impaired. This action helps them read your lips. Do not look individuals in the eye, if they are on the spectrum. Direct eye contact or too much stimuli can cause them to feel overwhelmed and threatened. Always make sure you are sitting when you interact with someone who is in a wheel chair so you are not talking down to them. I read up on all of the current research for interacting with these specific populations, before taking my new role. Yet, there was a major piece that the literature failed to prepare me for.

One of my most promising young mentors Brian, was diagnosed with MS as a child. He was a political science major and had big aspirations of being in politics. He was a popular campus figure with many friends. He was extremely independent. I remember the first day I met him, he gathered the strength to throw himself out of his motorized wheel chair to sit in a regular chair so we would be equals as we discussed his accommodations. He was a frequent visitor to the center and became a great mentor to incoming freshmen. He even asked me to ride another motorized wheel chair across campus to his dorm (he had two), but he could not move them both by himself. Just getting into that chair and riding across campus with him was a very humbling experience. In just 15 minutes, I understood what it was like to see the world from his eyes, looking up at everyone as they looked down upon me. I wanted nothing but success for Brian, as well as his peers and I knew they could achieve any goals they had despite their handicaps.

Brian liked to drink Gatorade Frost, but due to his MS it was extremely difficult for him to open the bottle. I would watch him struggle with this Gatorade bottle for about a few seconds and offer my assistance. Brian declined any help. He continued to sit there for about ten minutes while we discussed meeting objectives, before finally handing over the bottle to me or a fellow mentor so someone else could open it. This practice became almost like a routine during meetings. Every time I found myself wanting open the bottle. Watching Brian struggle was so tough for me to take. I know he wanted to do it himself, just as he liked closing the door behind him and carrying his own lunch. This made me begin to start really questioning the scope of my role as a professional and an advocate for these individuals. Did I need to be so involved or should I be giving them the tools to advocate for themselves. Which is a more powerful and long lasting gift? I began really thinking about my specific actions. What can these collegians be doing for themselves? Was I babying and treating them as less than equals by the assistance I was providing? I guess my real struggle was that I wanted to help and I was also being paid to help.

I am sorry to say that Brian was never able to open the bottle on his own and he continues to struggle with them (either because he knows he can do it/or was once long ago able to do so). But I know now that I should not rush in to do help in that way. Like Brian, our nation's students should be treated as equals in every sense of the word. We should get to know them; they should get to know us. We should be conscious of their hopes, their dreams their futures as well as where they come from. I will be a teacher that provides my students with every avenue, every tool, every facet of the topic to help them succeed. I will get them to the door, teach them how to use the key, but they are the ones that need to walk through it.