How wearing high heels during my commute helped me to be a better social worker

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A pair of red high-heeled shoes sitting on a white surface

Ableism is “the belief that because persons with disabilities are not typical of the non-disabled majority, they are inferior” (Mackelprang and Salsgiver, p. 105). Upon reflection, I have engaged in ableism against people with physical disabilities while on public transportation. Typically, I take public transportation during the peak hours of commuting to work between 7 a.m. and 9 a.m. and leaving work between 4p.m. and 6p.m. There are signs on the bus indicating that when a person with a disability enters the bus they are to be given seats in the front. Typically, people with wheelchairs or motorized chairs, walkers, canes and women with baby strollers occupy those seats; however when the bus is crowded during those peak times there is somewhat of a ‘all bets are off approach’ to seating and people tend to disregard those signs.

My example of demonstrating ableism involves a woman with a motorized chair who entered the bus one day. When she boarded the bus, everyone sitting in the front had to move towards the back to make space for her to enter and turn her chair towards the front. On this particular day, I had had a very bad interaction with a client at work. Mentally, I was not in a good state of mind as a result. I also had on heels which made my feet hurt from standing. Seats on either the left or the right could be used for a person with a disability, however the woman entered the bus and immediately looked towards the right where I was sitting. I knew this meant that I, along with another woman, should stand up and make room for her. The bus was very crowded and therefore moving towards the back felt like a nearly impossible task in order to make space for the woman in the motorized chair.

Without realizing it at the time, I was perpetuating a system of oppression onto the woman with a disability. Tom Shakespeare (2013) writes that the “social model (of disability) demonstrates that the problems disabled people face are the result of social oppression and exclusion, not their individual deficits”(p. 217). Looking back, I recall that I was upset that the woman with the motorized chair had turned to my side of the bus and I had had to get up. This response perpetuates a cycle of oppression because I used her disability as a source of rationalizing why she should be excluded from the bus.

Although I did not say anything verbally to the woman in the motorized chair, my face and body language gave a very descriptive picture of how angry I was that I had to move. The other women that were sitting next to me were verbal with their anger and made comments such as “she should have waited for the next bus, as there’s no space” and “why do we have to move for her?” In the moment I agreed with those women, and their outbursts. I was upset, tired, and in pain because of my heels. My only thoughts were selfish thoughts about wanting to get home so that I could get comfortable.

In retrospect, our attitudes were ableist because we were ostracizing the woman with a disability and trying to exclude her from riding the bus as everyone else was doing. I likened these feelings to feelings of the ‘survival of the fittest’; mentality that was prevalent during Darwin’s lifetime. People with disabilities were viewed as ‘undesirable’ and every effort was made to treat them as outsiders in society rather than practice inclusivity (Kevles, 1995, para. 2). At that time, people with disabilities were not viewed as fit to be amongst abled-bodied people. But back to the bus, the signs clearly acknowledged that the seats were for persons with disabilities or the elderly but due to our own selfish reasoning and justification we did not feel that that was satisfactory enough to warrant giving a seat to the woman in the motorized chair.

It is important for people to recognize their ableist nature so that when situations similar to the one discussed arise they can approach it with respect and empathy rather than disdain for the person with a disability.

Kelves, D. (1995). Essay: In the Name of Darwin. Retrieved August 14, 2017, from http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/evolution/darwin/nameof/page02.html

Mackelprang, R. & Salsgiver, R. (1999). Disability: A diversity model approach in human service practice, 3rd edition. New York: Lyceum Books.

Shakespeare, T. (2013). The social model of disability. In Ed., Davis, L. (2013). The Disability Studies Reader, Fourth Edition. New York: Routledge.

This essay was written by an anonymous M.S.W. Candidate at Salem State University’s School of Social Work in Salem, Massachusetts.  The author may be reached on Twitter at @disabilitysw or via email at disabilitysocialwork@gmail.com.

How an encounter in an airport uncovered my ableism, and made me a better social worker

By Ndia Olivier, M.S.W. Candidate

Salem State University

Ableism is the “belief that because persons with disabilities are not typical of the non-disabled majority, they are inferior (Mackelprang & Salsgiver, 2015 p. 105). After reading this definition, I realized that in certain situations, my ableism shows. I also realized how imperative it is to always check your ableism as a social worker.

One specific example I remember is when I was at a crowded airport waiting to board my flight. An older woman who was in a wheelchair was in the aisle right next to me. Without even thinking, I asked her if she wanted my seat. My offer came from a place of being taught to always be nice to your elders and give up your seat to them – but also because she was in a wheelchair, I assumed she wanted to be more comfortable. Her response was very nice, “No thanks sweetie, I have this old thing,” she said, referring to her wheelchair. She could see on my face how embarrassed I was, and told me that she was not offended by what I had said. Instead, she took it as an opportunity to educate me. She told me to try to be more aware and not assume the needs of people in wheelchairs.

What I did may be categorized as compartmentalization, or the “stereotyping of persons with disabilities or placing them in predetermined categories  (Mackelprang & Salsgiver, 2015 p. 113). Looking back, I pitied the older woman, and automatically assumed she would be more comfortable sitting in a chair like ‘the rest of us.’ Without realizing it, I could have made this woman feel powerless as if she was incapable of making her own decisions regarding her comfortability level. I wanted to normalize her experience as it pertained to me, but quickly learned that she was in a normalized state that pertained to her.

This experience helped me to learn about my ableism and why it is important to consider one’s own ableism in order to be a better social work practitioner. Though we live in an ableist society that perpetuates ableism, it is up to us to challenge those social norms. We need to slow down when encountering people and we need to see people as people first. It is easy to be used to societal norms, but the concept of normalcy is a social construct that is forever changing. As a social worker, we have to be able to enter every encounter with a mind free of assumptions. I believe we should always ask questions first instead of letting our ableism dictate what we think is the right thing for others.

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This is Ndia Olivier, an MSW candidate at Salem State University’s School of Social Work. (Note for Screenreaders: Image shows a confident Black woman who is smiling)

Ndia Olivier is a candidate for the degree of Masters in Social Work at Salem State University’s School of Social Work. She holds a B.A. in Psychology from College of the Holy Cross. She hopes to do create change and be an advocate for the voiceless with this career. She wanted to study social work practice with people with disabilities to learn about a population she was unfamiliar with. She is striving to be a well-rounded social worker and learning about one of the minority groups in our society and becoming more self-aware, is key. Ms. Olivier can be reached at ndia.olivier@gmail.com. Ms. Olivier can also be reached via social media at @disabilitysw on Twitter.

On shoes & procrastination: How a last minute shopping trip led me to confront my own ableism

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Image created by the artist known as “Ambivalently Yours.” Note for screenreader: Image of a woman with short hair, looking up, with the words “their ignorance does not define you” over her head and collarbone.

By Rachel Yarid, M.S.W. Candidate

Salem State University

A few months back, I was going to the mall to very last minute fine a pair of shoes that I needed for the next day. The entire process was making me anxious, seeing as I fall all too well into the category of a procrastinator. Frustrated, I saw that the shoes that I wanted didn’t come in my size, of course, and I spent way too much time in DSW looking for something that would work on a 9 ½ girl’s foot on a time crunch. Luckily, once I had found shoes that worked, I went to use the restroom and wanted to head straight home. When I got there, all of the stalls were full and after waiting behind someone, I ended up using the stall for people with disabilities that someone else had just walked out of. I hadn’t thought anything of it, seeing as the restroom was full anyways, and I knew I would be quick because of how badly I wanted to leave.

Almost immediately after I entered the stall, I heard a woman outside complaining that someone was using the designated stall I was in and how “inconsiderate people were becoming.” I called out that I would be out in a minute, and the woman continued to complain. When I was out of the stall, I saw that the woman who had been annoyed with me was actually the woman pushing someone else in a wheelchair. The woman in the wheelchair told me it was okay, however the woman pushing her hastily replied that it wasn’t ok. I looked at the woman in the wheelchair, said thank you for being understanding and apologized for taking up any of her time, and ignored the other woman.

While environments can and should be adapted wherever possible, there remains a disadvantage associated with having impairments that no amount of environmental change could entirely eliminate. People who rely on wheelchairs are often more vulnerable and have fewer choices than the majority of able-bodied people (Shakespeare, 2002). I am sure that the woman who was assisting the woman in the wheelchair had to deal with issues similar to this many, many times. I would never invalidate someone’s emotions, but it was clear that she was exhausted with having to rely on others to accommodate the woman she was with each day. Although the way she went about it wasn’t appropriate and felt almost embarrassing to the woman in the wheelchair, I am sure I could have handled it differently myself. I ended up reflecting on it for the rest of the day and had felt bad for the woman in the wheelchair.

As Mackelprang & Salsgiver (2015) say, society’s worst flaw of viewing those with a disability is through pity. This is something I have done, and I need to change in order to view people with disabilities as more independent and capable human beings. Through this aspect of their words, and considering someone as a “poor soul” even, I have fed into ableism in a multitude of ways without even recognizing it. Not only as a social work student but as someone fortunate enough to live in the community of Salem, Massachusetts, that flourishes with diversity, I feel as though it should be a part of my natural instinct to want to understand others the best that I can. With a sense of understanding, or at least maintaining the perspective of being open to others differences, I’m not only leaving the door open to gain knowledge for my own benefits but for the benefit of maintaining a balance within the flow of our community. Even when it’s in a situation of last-minute shopping and feeling overwhelmed, it is important for myself and everyone around me to make sure I stay grounded in these beliefs.

Mackelprang, R. & Salsgiver, R. (1999). Disability: A diversity model approach in human service practice, 3rd edition. New York: Lyceum Books.

Shakespeare, T. (2013). The social model of disability. In Ed., Davis, L. (2013). The Disability Studies Reader, Fourth Edition. New York: Routledge.

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Social work student Rachel Yarid standing in front of a large graffiti mural on a rock face. Mural says “you are conscious matter.”

Rachel Yarid is a candidate for the degree of Masters in Social Work at Salem State University’s School of Social Work. She holds a B.S.W. in Social Work from Salem State University. She hopes to do group therapy with children and families with her career.  Ms. Yarid can be reached at r_yarid@salemstate.edu or at @disabilitysw on Twitter.

How reflecting on my choice to do prenatal tests for fetal disabilities made me a better social worker

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Note for screenreader: Image of a pregnant white woman getting an ultrasound of her fetus. (Image credit to: http://www.wholisticwomenshealthcare.com/thoughts-of-a-midwife/2015/8/24/ultrasound-in-pregnancy)

By Janelle Cassola, M.S.W. Candidate

Salem State University

Recently, my professor asked me to reflect on the ways in which I have engaged in ableism as a social work student. While I could not think of a professional instance, I was able to reflect back on my personal life about a time that I did engage in ableism. Recently, I gave birth to my son, my first child, back in January of this year. Toward the beginning of my pregnancy, I believe around week 12, the obstetrician sat me down and started to discuss optional screenings that they could do that would determine whether the baby had any disabilities, such as Down Syndrome. As soon as she started explaining all the different tests, I knew I was going to choose to have at least one done. In the end, I chose one of the least invasive but more accurate tests.

Whenever someone asked why I was getting the test (as I wasn’t high risk, and am on the younger side), I would tell them I just wanted to be able to be prepared. I told them that I wanted to be able to prepare my house or to get necessary equipment or other things that might be needed by my child. However, leading up to the test I began to have dreams about getting ‘bad news’ from the doctor. I also had dreams in which my doctor told me that there was ‘something wrong’ with my baby. I started to realize that it wasn’t my house that I would have to prepare, it would have to be myself! Slowly, I came to the understanding that if I got the news that my child had a disability, I would need some time to process and accept that news. I think that I struggled with the belief that my child would have a ‘lesser life’ if they were born with a disability. In addition, I think that a part of my process would have been going through the grieving process as I would have been grieving the ‘perfect child’ that I imagine many pregnant women imagine when they first find out they are pregnant.

In my readings for my course on social work practice with people with disabilities, I learned how genetic testing connects to the medical model of disability. As my textbook discussed, the testing and the possible results were only presented to me by my medical team through a medical model lens, versus a social model of disability lens. My medical team informed me of the genetic reasoning behind any of the possible disabilities that could be discovered but did not include any information regarding what my child’s life would be like if the test was positive. As Mackelprang and Salsgiver (2015) suggested in my textbook, it would have been beneficial to hear about the lives of people living with some of the disabilities. This could have possibly calmed my nerves as well as avoided my ableist thinking. My hope is that for patients who do have a positive test, their medical team can learn to sit down with them and go into further detail about what a child’s life will and can look like. I think this could help a parent-to-be process that news in a not-so-negative way. I believe that a discussion like this could help patients understand that the only options are not abortion or a child with a ‘lesser life.’

As a social work professional, it is important to always reflect on and examine our own ableism. In our society, we have been witness to countless ableist thoughts and beliefs throughout our lives. These beliefs become the standard way of thinking and affect our interactions with people with disabilities. Therefore, it is essential for a social worker to reflect on their own ableist thoughts and practices in order to be able to change their way of thinking – and practicing! Once the social worker is able to do this work, their practice with people with disabilities has the potential to be so much more valuable.

Janelle Cassola is a candidate for the degree of Masters in Social Work at Salem State University’s School of Social Work. She holds a B.A. in Urban Studies from Worcester State University. She hopes to continue her career in the field of adoption. Ms. Cassola chose to study social work practice with people with disabilities to become better informed of this community, the barriers that they face, and the practice frameworks regarding people with disabilities. Ms. Cassola can be reached at j_cassola2@salemstate.edu or at @disabilitysw on Twitter.

 

 

On stacking books in the library, and undoing my own ableism

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Note for screenreader: A stack of antique leather-bound books, such as one might find in a library (Image credit: http://autodo.info/pages/o/old-leather-bound-book/)

 

By Sara Ghalaini, M.S.W. Candidate

Salem State University

My first job right out of high school was working in a public library. I was one of three library pages who would put books away in order to maintain the book shelves. A majority of the library staff watched me grow up in that building, and I was given my first opportunity at an internship the year before. I was very bonded to the staff and to the building itself. Working there reminded me a great deal of my childhood.

“Violet” was one of the book pages I worked alongside. For as long as I can remember, she had always worked at the library, it was almost as if she came with the building. Violet retired the year the building was given a grant to be rebuilt, which I always found to be appropriate timing. As a child, I could always count on Violet to be in the fiction section of the library. Walking in, I knew I would find her pursing her lips and mumbling to herself while she put the cart of books away. Typically, she would stop me, and let me know I looked just like my mother and would then ask after her, right before complimenting me for the season I reminded her of, Autumn. By the time I began to work at the library, Violet was an elderly woman. She would come into the library every morning at 8:45 a.m. with fifteen minutes to spare, so she could sit on the ratty old orange couch in the staff lounge for ten minutes and then spend the last five minutes greeting staff as they came in before getting to her book cart.

Violet was meticulous at keeping time and budgeted herself to shelving two carts for the three hours she would work every day. Some days she was overly ambitious and was able to complete two and a half carts, but that was rare. Once she finished her shift she would grab her things from the staff lounge and go home. Later I learned Violet had a schedule she followed daily, consisting of breakfast at the Tea Cup Café, a walk to work, completion of her shift and then a return to the Tea Cup Café before going home. She lived alone and had a visiting nurse who would come to her home twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon.

Once I had gotten really efficient at keeping my shelves well maintained, I would go down and help Violet with her books. At this point I was shelving three to four carts an hour. Many times, I would put Violet’s books in alphabetical order for her on the cart so all she had to do was shelve while I walked around after her and fixed her shelves to make them look as “fronted and faced” as mine. After several weeks of doing this I was taken aside by my supervisor and asked that I not help Violet because Violet was capable of doing her own work and she took the time she did because she had schizophrenia. I was not aware of this, and always felt I was doing what was “right” because Violet was elderly and honestly, seemed to me to present as not very aware of her surroundings. It wasn’t until I was told of Violet having a diagnosis of schizophrenia that I realized why she presented the way she did.

I learned later on that she had been institutionalized for many years as a young woman until her brother and sister were old enough to discharge her from the facility she was in. Violet came from a time where health practitioners believed it was best to lock away persons with disabilities and forget them. This process is consistent with the manifestation of oppression through containment (Mackleprang and Salsgiver, 2015). Society would rather hide Violet away than have her become a productive member of society or teach her skills because her life was less valuable than that of a person without a disability.

Violet and I never discussed her past or her diagnoses for the four years she and I worked together. After learning of Violet’s diagnosis, I realized I had been practicing ableism by doing her work for her and immediately stopped. I was not allowing Violet to do the work she was capable of because I assumed she couldn’t do it. Following this incident, I learned to ask before assisting her because I wanted to ensure I was respecting her ability work at her own pace and do what she had been doing for thirty plus years.

The irony of it all is my brother has schizophrenia and it wasn’t until I met Violet. that I realized the importance and effectiveness of a routine but also, knowing Violate gave me hope that my brother might someday find himself in a similar position where he could function independently from my parent’s care. The last year I worked at the library, Violet could no longer live independently due to needing around the clock assistance and eventually moved to a nursing home where she passed away some years ago. Every so often I visit the library and think of the woman who taught me about resiliency but also gave me a perspective that I keep with me always.

Sara Ghalaini
Sara Ghalaini is an M.S.W. candidate at Salem State University. Note for Screenreader: Image of a smiling young woman dressed in hijab


Sara Ghalaini is a candidate for the degree of Masters in Social Work at Salem State University’s School of Social Work. She holds a Bachelors in Psychology from The University of Massachusetts, Amherst. She is currently working on multiple initiatives including functioning as an LGBTQ Liaison for children in the care of the Department of Children and Families, building awareness between social workers and refugee families working with DCF and creating a chapter for disability issues under DCF’s Diversity Leadership. She hopes to continue her career in social work as a leader in community initiatives. Ms. Ghalaini chose to study social work practice with people with disabilities because she found a lack of cultural awareness between social workers and the clients they serve. Ms. Ghalaini can be reached at sara.ghalaini@state.ma.us.

 

 

A teacher’s response to Charlottesville for social workers in practice with people with disabilities

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Photo description: Segment of a large crowd of white men holding torches at a nighttime “Unite the Right” rally organized by White nationalists and Nazis on August 12, 2017. (Image from the Jerusalem Post)

I am currently teaching a course on social work practice with people with disabilities.  The course uses an intersectional lens, acknowledging the fact that people have many intersecting social identities that can result in varying types of privilege and oppression.  As such, I had to provide some venue for my students to address the Charlottesville violence and hate speech.  The following is a discussion prompt I provided for them to respond to, and I thought other social work educators might be interested in seeing this so that they could use it and/or modify it for their own courses.  Feedback welcome!

Discussion prompt: As we are part of a course on social work practice with people with disabilities in the United States of America, I would be remiss not to address the events of this past weekend in Charlottesville, Virginia. As you have already likely gathered, there are important links between the White nationalist/Nazi actions in Virginia, and the work we do as social workers with people with disabilities – who often have intersecting marginalized social identities. Many of the perspectives held by members of White nationalist/Nazi groups are clearly identifiable as racist, sexist, homophobic, anti-Semitic and even Eugenic in nature.  Therefore, as social workers practicing under our particular Code of Ethics, we need to respond. If you need some quick resources to learn more about the dynamics that led to the Charlottesville rally and violence, you can check out the “Charlottesville Syllabus” at this link.

As disability-aware social workers training to view the world with an intersectional lens, we need to acknowledge and act on what has happened in Charlottesville. That means that we need to engage in discussions – often difficult in nature – with our families, our co-workers and with our clients. Let’s start with our work with clients. One prominent disability civil rights activist, Rebecca Cokley, has noted that when terrorist incidents like this occur, people with disability count the minutes until ableist claims about the ‘crazy’ person who engaged in terrorist acts roll in. That may be an important place for you to start a conversation with a client with a disability in a week like this one. In this essay, Ms. Cokley points out another important link between disability and trauma.  She calls for the disability community (and disability service providers) to reach out to those whose disabilities came about as a result of trauma, such as the people who were injured and impaired by the car driven by the White nationalist/Nazi from Ohio. Her essay is short, easy to read and compelling and you can find it here.

It is also important to remember, however, that our work is not just direct care work. Remember, the NASW Code of Ethics states that we must fight for social justice, as it is a core value in our profession. We need to do more than discuss these difficult topics amongst ourselves, we also need to take a stand on them. I am fond of the idea that if we are not part of the solution, we are part of the problem. It is important to move beyond ideas of ourselves as “good” people, and work towards actively addressing the webs of oppression that exist in our world, little bit by little bit. Here is an example about how ADAPT, the national disability civil rights organization, has taken a stance on the events in Charlottesville. Where might you be able to stake your claim to your own stance?  Check out these ideas for 10 ways to fight hate from the Southern Poverty Law Center.

Finally, I want to leave you with a challenging set of questions. Although there are many facets to the NASW Code of Ethics, let us remember that the mission of the social work profession is rooted in a set of core values, including the idea that there is dignity and worth in every person.  How would you respond to a client with a disability who actively identified as a White nationalist/Nazi if you were to be assigned such a client today? What if she didn’t want to work with you because you were a woman of color?  What if she had been arrested for street fighting during the “Unite the Right” rally and was open about her wish to “hurt Leftists?”  Based on your training thus far in this social work program, how would you approach your work with this client?

Please leave your comments about this discussion prompt and how it might be improved or expanded upon.  All feedback is welcome.

How my part-time job helped me to confront my own ableism

Root beer in a mug
Note for screen reader: A frothy mug of delicious root beer, image from http://www.cottoncravings.com

By Sage Lucas, M.S.W. Candidate

Salem State University

I never thought that my part-time job as a waitress could possibly inform my social work practice in any way. Recently, in my disability and social work course, I was asked to consider my own ableism. After some reflection, I realized that, unfortunately, I have recently engaged in ableism at my job. While waitressing, many times during the day, a person with a disability will come in either on their own or with a family member or friend.

One time in particular, it was a busy Saturday, and a young man and his grandmother came and sat down at my table. I went up to them and said hello. When the young man began to speak to me, I couldn’t understand what he was saying. He started to point at the pictures in the menu and he was making grunting sounds. I looked towards the grandmother and blatantly asked, “Do you know what he wants?” The grandmother gave me a strange look, pointed towards her grandson and said, “He will tell you what he wants, he can do that, you know.” I looked towards the man, feeling ashamed of myself, and apologized. Then, I asked him what he would like to drink. He took out a book of pictures with words underneath each picture. He flipped through the book until it got to the page with drinks and food on it. After looking and looking for the right picture, he finally pointed to one picture in particular and looked up at me and smiled. And I said, “Would you like a root beer?” He politely nodded and smiled at me and then pointed to a picture of popcorn and signed the word for please. I said, “Ok, why don’t I get your drinks and I’ll grab you some popcorn as well.”

In reflecting on this incident, I can see that I engaged in what Mackelprang and Salsgiver (2015) called “compartmentalization.” Compartmentalization is meant to stereotype people with disabilities and to place them in a ‘predominated’ category Indeed, many times before I have seen a person with a disability enter the restaurant and if they cannot speak, the person who is with them will speak for them to make things more convenient for the wait staff. After some reflection, it should not matter how quickly the person can tell me their order, nor how they do it. Rather, they should be allowed to order in their own way and on their own. I did not take the time to see that this young man could order on his own and that he did not need the assistance of his grandmother. Mackelprang and Salsgiver (2015) comment that “pity places people with disabilities in a totally powerless position. They are not in control of their own lives. They are childlike. They are dependent…” (Mackelprang & Salsgiver, 2015, p. 113). This relates to what I have observed in myself. I saw that this young man had a disability and I stereotyped him with other persons with disabilities I had seen, when in fact he was not dependent on his grandmother, he was quite independent.  Since then, I have taken the time to stop and analyze how I talk to people and to not rush through my day without thinking about what I say, or how I am thinking about a situation. Although our society is structured in an ableist way, making us all susceptible to ableism, I do not want to behave in an ableist manner. Rather, I want to be someone who supports people with disabilities.

As a social worker it is important to understand what ableism is and how we each engage in it in our daily lives. If we want to work with people with disabilities we need to understand a person’s rights to dignity of risk, and their right to engage in self-determination. Looking back at that day with the young man who loved root beer, I can tell you all the rest of the meal was much different from how it was at the beginning. I took my time in talking to the man, and only asked the grandmother if she needed something rather than asking if her grandson needed something. After this experience of being called out by the grandmother, I feel I am more aware of how I think about disability in the restaurant and in my social work practice.

Mackelprang, R. & Salsgiver, R. (1999). Disability: A diversity model approach in human service practice, 3rd edition. New York: Lyceum Books.

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Sage Lucas, MSW Candidate at Salem State University (Note for screenreader: Image of a young white woman smiling, in a car)

Sage Lucas is a candidate for the degree of Masters in Social Work at Salem State University’s School of Social Work. She holds a Bachelors in Social Work, with minors in Criminal Justice and Psychology from Salem State University, and Sage also holds a certificate in Childhood Studies from Salem State University. She hopes to continue her career in social work, working in the mental health field. Ms. Lucas chose to study social work practice with people with disabilities because she found a gap in her knowledge as a social work, and wanted to be as well rounded a social worker as possible. Ms. Lucas can be reached at s_lucas1@salemstate.edu