Disability gives teacher empathy for students
Special-ed instructor Michelle White is open about her paralysis.
LEBANON DAILY NEWS
LEBANON, Pa. - If you should see Michelle White around town, don't for a moment hesitate to ask about the circumstances that placed the vigorous 34-year-old woman in a motorized wheelchair.
White won't think you rude and may even hand you a copy of her illustrated children's book, which explains that an accident left her paralyzed from the chest down with limited movement in her arms and wrists.
As a learning-support teacher, White is an inspiration to her fourth-grade special-education students at Lebanon's Ebenezer Elementary School, and says she is a better instructor since the accident on a sunny September afternoon in 2001. That day, a powered parachute in which she was the passenger crashed on takeoff into a cornfield at a small Lebanon County airstrip.
"The more people understand about these things, the less you have to deal with disability boundaries and roadblocks," White says as she explains why she's always ready to talk about the accident.
In fact, the Lebanon Valley College graduate, who holds a master's degree in special education from Shippensburg University, says she approaches others with disabilities and asks "What happened to you?" then tells them how her head crashed into the pilot's helmet, breaking a vertebra in her neck and injuring her spinal cord.
"It has helped me understand the needs of kids with disabilities a lot better," says White, relaxed in her classroom after her students left for the day. "You can go through a million different courses and training, but until you really have to confront it yourself, you don't really understand."
During school, she maneuvers her chair deftly among the desks, watching out for little feet and objects on the floor, often forgetting that she's not standing on her own.
"I don't know that it's really ever set in," White says. "I know what I'm living with, I know that I do things differently, [but] with the support I had from my friends, family and the school district, I never had the chance to become depressed. I'd lie in the hospital room, and every day there was a parade of people and I never wanted to let them down. You'd always get your hugs and kisses."
As a way to explain the injury to her young students, White spent two years writing New Opportunities, a tale about Spiney the porcupine, who on "a beautiful, late summer afternoon" headed out with a friend for an excursion on a small craft just like the one in which White rode. His story is her story, and it's required reading in her classroom.
"This adventure did not turn out the way Spiney and Flyer had planned," White says in the self-published book, illustrated by Dorothy Thompson Perez. "They were handed a new life and Spiney and Flyer looked forward to the new adventures that lie ahead of them."
In addition to her self-published softcover and another book in the planning stage, White visits schools to speak about her experiences and teaches a weekly class titled "An Introduction to Exceptionalities in Children and Youth" at Lebanon Valley College.
"It's me teaching teachers in training about differences, basically special education," White explains. "I love that aspect of teaching with young adults now. The big thing is to teach that it's OK to be different."
Her fourth graders know that, too.
Ten-year-old Austyn Brandt says White is "awesome," especially when "she helps us sound out the words" during reading assignments.
Seven years after the accident, White clearly enjoys the affections of her students, but even her classroom success has not dimmed memories of the crash.
She says she knew something was going to happen when it became apparent that the tiny craft would never clear the fields surrounding the runway.
"The front wheel hit the ground. You could hear the parachute getting caught up in the fan, the cornstalks hitting the ground."
A medical helicopter flew her to a hospital, and therapy followed. Recovery took six months.
Today, White lives on the first floor of a townhouse adapted to her needs; her father, Vernon, resides upstairs. A personal-care aide provides assistance, and a trainer stops by for weekly workouts. She also is a regular at the Lebanon Valley College gym.
Relying on caregivers, hoping they'll be there when promised, "is the hard part about disability," White says. "Your life revolves around them."
Her father's ingenuity has been a blessing. Because White's fingers are immobile, he created a simple device that allows her to move papers around and pull them toward her; it is especially helpful in the classroom. She uses a marker in a holder to sign her name.
White is quick to praise the school district and fellow teachers for facilitating her recovery and return to the classroom.
The district provided a special projector that allows White to show learning material on a wall screen, and she recalls how teachers videotaped school events for her to watch while recuperating.
"There are things that get frustrating, but you just get around it," she says.
Students often help in the classroom, thus "learning a lot more by having to do what I need to do," she adds.
"This has made an imprint on the kids . . . who struggle with everyday things. They see me overcome obstacles, and they work much harder. I am a believer that things happen for a reason."
White has learned to drive a wheelchair-accessible van, although she finds little need to use the vehicle. And her social calendar is full.
"I do everything I've done before," she says. "I joke that I just get better parking spaces now. I go everywhere, I do things with my friends, and I met an absolutely wonderful guy I share my life with."
"He's my biggest fan," she says, her face breaking into a broad smile.


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