Stuttering in the Classroom

Have you seen this?

Elizabeth Snyder, a college professor, asked 16-year-old Philip Garber, a stutterer, not to speak in class "so we do not infringe on other students' time."

Are you kidding me?

I do not advocate giving stutterers special treatment, but the classroom should be a safe place for all students. It is where today's students develop the confidence and skills that they need to become tomorrow's professionals. If this student has something to add to the class discussion, he should be allowed to do so.

As a stutterer, I would tell Snyder to show kindness and patience. If Garber's experience is anything like my own, he gets knocked down enough without his professor adding to it.

In Spite Of

A few days ago, Sarah and I stopped by my parents' place to see their new furniture, and we sat down to chat. I was having a noticeably difficult time with my speech, so I said something like "stuttering is kicking my ass lately."

Everyone agreed with my assessment and said encouraging things, but my dad said something that made me think:

"People always tell me that they are impressed with what you have accomplished in spite of stuttering."

In spite of. That phrase stood out to me. I began thinking about the accomplishments of which I am proudest, and it hit me that most of them were done in spite of something. For example, I have only won bike races in bad weather or with some kind of mechanical problem. When the sun is shining and my bike works perfectly, I can get second or third, but I have never won.

Last weekend, I drove four hours to a cyclocross race in Fayetteville, TN. There was a prime (cash prize) on the first lap, so I took off at top speed. I quickly got a small gap and poured it on. I was going to get the prime easily... or so I thought. I overcooked a turn and landed on my right shift lever. It broke off and left me with one gear and no control over my rear brake. To make matters worse, I was using a different front wheel than I had planned to use, so my front brake was not set up properly and barely touched the rim when I pulled the lever.

While I assessed the damage to my bike, the whole field passed me. By the time I got going again, I was at least half a lap down. I rode easily to the start/finish line where I planned to pack it in and head home, but when I crossed the line, something clicked in me. I didn't drive four hours to do one lap. I was going to finish this race, and I was not going to get last.

I began to pedal like a man possessed. I couldn't brake going into turns, so I would unclip my inside foot and try to slide. I was riding "tape to tape" with a good amount of speed and little to no control. Things weren't going well - I was in my element.

As the laps ticked off, I made steady progress. The crowd was great and cheered me on every lap. In spite of three more crashes (due to my lack of brakes), I managed to finish in fifth place. Right after I crossed the line, the race promoter handed me some cash even though I had finished out of the money. "You put on a good show," he said. "You got back up and kept racing in spite of a disabled bike."

There are many afflictions that are far worse than stuttering, and I don't pretend that my life is any harder than anyone else's. In fact, my life might be easier because stuttering has taught me how to succeed in spite of.

Now, if I could just figure out how to act when things go right...

Happy Tuesday, everybody.

No more small talk

Sorry it has been so long since my last post. I've been busy. Hopefully you have too.

Last week, I was at the start line of a cyclocross race, and I noticed that a fellow racer was running very narrow tires, so I asked him what size they were.

Me: Are th-th-th-th-those t-t-t-t-tw-tw-twenty eights?

Him: No, they're th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th-thirties.

About half of the racers started laughing, and I turned my gaze toward the ground. When the race started, I decided to go all out for the first lap to "get back" at the guy. I must have been fast, because after the first lap, there were only three of us at the front, and he wasn't there. After the adrenaline wore off, the wind went out of my sails. It hit me that the one place I was safe from stuttering (my bike) was no longer safe. I rode the rest of the race halfheartedly and finished third - last of the selection that I had created.

After the race, I didn't hang around for the podium. I just rode back to my car and drove home. I felt like an inhuman shell. I was not a bike racer. I was not the guy that rounded out the podium. I was the guy who couldn't talk.

I guess that's what I get for trying to make small talk with strangers.

Ouch.

My wife and I picked up lunch for my family today. My mom and dad wrote down their orders on a piece a paper, and Sarah and I went to Subway.

When we got there, I took the piece of paper up to the counter and began to read. My mom had requested a six inch turkey sub on whole wheat with everything except hot peppers. As I stuttered through the list of ingredients, the woman behind the counter strained to make out what I was saying. It was touch and go for a moment, but the sandwich was completed.

Next, Sarah ordered her sandwich: tuna on wheat with lettuce, tomato, pickles, vinegar, salt, and pepper. I caught myself feeling jealous about her effortless delivery.

I was up again. I began to recite my father's order, but the woman behind the counter could not understand me. She apologized and seemed genuinely upset that she was unable to decipher what I was saying. I tried again... and again, but as my tension level mounted, my stuttering became worse. I did something that I never do.

"Sarah?" I looked to my wife, and she immediately knew what I was asking. She gently took the piece of paper from me and read it to the patient sandwich artist. I looked down at the floor in shame. "It's OK, baby," Sarah said.

I couldn't go out like this. I began my own sandwich order, and I stuttered like a fool, but I got the idea of a chicken-salad-on-flat-bread across to my friend the sandwich artist. She smiled sweetly and made my sandwich. That was the worst part.

When someone makes fun of me, I can choose to let it go, or I can choose to get angry. If I let it go, I am not bothered. If I get angry, I can deal with it. On the other hand, when someone is sympathetic, I feel crippled. I feel like someone for whom people should feel sorry. That is hard to let go. I haven't had to ask someone to speak for me since I was a child. Today, I felt like a child.

After a hard ride (and one or two adult beverages), I feel OK, but today hurt.

Disappointment

Last week, my wife and I drove 1000 miles to a pair of bike races in Pennsylvania and D.C. We arrived at our hotel on Friday night, and we were so tired that we left my bike locked on our car and went straight to sleep. After a wonderful nine hours of sleep, we made coffee and walked down the stairs to the car. Much to our surprise, we found that my bike had been stolen.

A police officer came and took our information, but he made it clear to us that the bike would not be found. It was gone. I was supposed to race that night in a race for which I had trained for months, but I did not have a bike.

A wonderful company called SRAM allowed me to use a bike that night, but it was not a good fit, and I finished anonymously in the pack. The next day was even worse. I borrowed another bike from SRAM, and I was involved in a crash. I hurt my knee pretty bad and got a concussion, but I managed to get back into the race and finish anonymously in the pack once again.

If it weren't for bad luck...

People often tell me that I have bad luck. They might be right. Within the last twelve weeks, my house burned down, my bike got stolen, and I crashed bad enough that I have to see an orthopedic surgeon. Sarah and I seem to go from one crisis to the next, but it never seems to affect me. I deal with disappointment well. Stuttering strikes again.

Life as a stutterer is a series of small disappointments. I picture myself telling a joke to a rapt group of friends who laugh hysterically as I deliver the punchline, but in reality, I stutter so bad that they lose me halfway through the telling of the joke. I picture myself ordering lunch without having to spell out my chosen menu item four times, but in reality, I end up getting extra onions instead of no onions or two kinds of cheese instead of no cheese because the server just can't understand me. I pictured myself saying my wedding vows clearly and loudly, but in reality...

All of these little disappointments have taught me that there is light at the end of the tunnel (if only so another tunnel can begin). No disappointment lasts forever, and I only lose when I stop trying.

Sorry I haven't called...

So... it has been a while.

I could give a whole slew of excuses for my lack of posts, but I will not. I will just say that much has happened since the fire and leave it at that.

I'm back. Will you have me?

Good.

The last two months have made up what I like to call a "bad speech cycle." My speech has been garbled and strained, and I have endured more than my share of awkward encounters. For example:

I leave on Thursday for a pair of races in Pennsylvania and DC, and my bike needs a new bottom bracket bearing. This specific bearing is a little bit hard to find, so I had to call every shop in my area on Saturday. Almost every single shop hung up on me or told me that I was "breaking up." Each time, this made me a little angrier. I would call back and say "hi, I just called looking for a bearing and you hung up on me. I stutter. Please stay on the line."

Each time, the person on the other end of the line would say something along the lines of "I'm so sorry" or "I didn't mean to offend you." They didn't mean any harm, but damn - a new bearing for my bike shouldn't cost me my dignity.

I have experienced countless other similar encounters recently, and I'm starting to lose my sense of humor. I mean, yeah, I can be quite a spectacle, but is stuttering really so rare that people just don't know how to respond?

Enough bitching - time for some good news:

Sarah and I are finally about to move into an apartment, so it looks like we'll have greater stability. That means I'll be back to blogging. Let me know if there is a specific topic you would like for me to discuss.

Fires, Criteriums, and Dogs

Some of you may have noticed that I haven't posted anything for a while. There is good reason for that.

Last week was Speed Week (a series of criteriums in the southeast that draws the biggest stars of the American cycling world), and I was lucky enough to earn a place on the start list of the series. The first race was last Saturday night (April 24) in Athens. I had planned to update this blog as usual because all of the races were at night, so I had each day free. It was not to be.

On Saturday morning, I woke up to some bad news: my family's house had been struck by lightning and caught fire. My parents were there, and they and all the dogs got out unharmed. The house did not fare so well. We have spent the last week in a hotel (with four dogs), and Speed Week was pretty much a wash. (A little back story - my wife and I are living with my parents while we look for a house).

I was only able to race in four of the seven races, and the races I did start were marred by mechanical problems and lack of focus. I couldn't get my head in the game. I realized how much I take for granted this week. There is something to be said for having a home and "stuff."

I hope that each of you has had a better week than I have! Thanks for all the support. Check back tomorrow for a new post about stuttering.