Struck
Just yesterday, a group of men came in to the café where I work. There was probably five to six men in the group.Their ages probably ranged from mid thirties to late fifties, or maybe even sixties. One man, in particular, had grey hair and a wrinkled expression.
That isn't exceptional, persay.
What struck me was when the man in his mid-forties began playing patty-cake with me. And, the man in his sixties went on nagging him in the manner we attribute to small children. That was about the time I noticed their care-taker, a middle-aged Asian man, directing them through the café.
How strange, I thought, that men of this age would be mentally handicap. Then, I went on thinking. I wonder how old they are, mentally. I wonder if it really works like that. I wonder what their disabilities are. I thought most handicap persons don't live that long.
Perhaps that is why it seemed strange.
As they left, however, I found myself questioning - not them, but me.
Why did I find that so suprising, or even stranger yet, disarming? Why was I so struck? What implications did that have on my perspective and/or attitudes toward mentally handicap individuals? What did this reveal about myself?
I haven't exactly come to a conclusion. Partially, I still feel quite stunned by the occurance. Partially, ashamed. I suppose for the most part, however, the event brings up both interesting thoughts/questions I have about people with mental handicaps and thoughts/questions I have about my own mental handicaps in dealing with exceptional situations.
That isn't exceptional, persay.
What struck me was when the man in his mid-forties began playing patty-cake with me. And, the man in his sixties went on nagging him in the manner we attribute to small children. That was about the time I noticed their care-taker, a middle-aged Asian man, directing them through the café.
How strange, I thought, that men of this age would be mentally handicap. Then, I went on thinking. I wonder how old they are, mentally. I wonder if it really works like that. I wonder what their disabilities are. I thought most handicap persons don't live that long.
Perhaps that is why it seemed strange.
As they left, however, I found myself questioning - not them, but me.
Why did I find that so suprising, or even stranger yet, disarming? Why was I so struck? What implications did that have on my perspective and/or attitudes toward mentally handicap individuals? What did this reveal about myself?
I haven't exactly come to a conclusion. Partially, I still feel quite stunned by the occurance. Partially, ashamed. I suppose for the most part, however, the event brings up both interesting thoughts/questions I have about people with mental handicaps and thoughts/questions I have about my own mental handicaps in dealing with exceptional situations.
