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The life of a university student can be hard and fast. But those who spend time with someone who has special needs have learned that life really happens when you slow down to truly appreciate it.

Photo provided by Nik Lüst

PEOPLE ALWAYS SAY that life is short.

Let’s really think about that, though. The average life expectancy in Canada is 80 years. People live to see not only their grandchildren, but their great-grandchildren, and those grandchildren and great-grandchildren will go on to live another 80 years or more. And each successive set of parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents will at some point look at their kin with their faces creased with smile lines and utter the words, “They grow up so fast.”

The thing is that life isn’t short—life is fast.

It’s especially true for students. For us, life doesn’t walk; it runs. Life rushes through classes, assignments, exams, and the evening shift at work. It skips from September to December and then again from January to April. Sometimes life moves so fast we can’t even remember what happened the night before…

That’s why it can mean the world to slow things down. Sometimes people just need a reminder to take a few moments to appreciate life around them. They’re moments to learn more about patience, compassion, and responsibility. Those moments can last a lifetime. And people—young people, especially—can learn a lot from individuals with developmental disabilities.

Summer camp
The first time Nik Lüst stepped off the bus at Camp Misquah, he wasn’t sure what to expect. How much responsibility would it be to look after a handful of campers? Could they depend on him to meet all of their needs?

Camp Misquah is a summer camp for the developmentally disabled, located on Lac Bitobi, Que., about an hour’s drive north of Ottawa. Lüst’s first step on the camp grounds was six years ago, and he has since learned a lot about how to appreciate life and be a great companion. At first, the responsibility was scary, but it’s since become incomparably rewarding.

“You really have to become altruistic, because some of these people rely on you to bathe them, clothe them, change their diaper, walk them, feed them—literally everything,” said Lüst. “When you get back into the city and it’s just you, it does put things into perspective.”

Lüst is a third-year political science student. His friend and fellow camp counsellor Matthew Burt is a master’s student in molecular biology. Both attend the University of Ottawa, and both have learned firsthand the realities of people who live with developmental disabilities. While these individuals depend on people like Lüst and Burt to help take care of them, they have just as powerful an impact on their helpers.

“When I was 17 or 18 … I was very immature and a little sheltered,” said Lüst. “When I went to the camp, while it is an amazing experience, it’s hard work and you’re exposed to reality. Respect is a big thing that you get. They give it to you, and of course you give it to them. It’s a very touchy situation, so you really learn to respect people.”

It’s one of many things that has kept both students going back for years.

“For me, it’s seeing the campers again,” said Burt, who has worked at Camp Misquah for the last three years.

“They’re all so unique, and they make you laugh,” he added. “You build those relationships.”

One of the longtime Misquah campers is named Peter. He spends most of his time in the city cooped up in an attic watching Disney movies all day. But when he’s at camp, he’s a star of song and dance. Every year he’s given the choice to go to Disney World or to Camp Misquah. Every year he chooses camp.

“When you find that stuff out, it’s almost like an obligation to go back and see these people when you can,” said Lüst. “The relationships that you forge are with very special people.”

Some campers have been going to Camp Misquah for 40 years or more. One camper named Rocco has spent his summers there since the early ‘70s. The oldest camper, Richard, is now a septuagenarian . The majority of campers have made it their annual summer retreat for more than a decade.

Although this will likely be Lüst and Burt’s last year at Camp Misquah, it is an experience they regret having to give up.

Making friends
For some, working with people with special needs has shaped what they want to do in the future.  Jess McQuaig is a fourth-year student in international development and globalization at the U of O and has volunteered since 2009 with Best Buddies, an organization that pairs student volunteers with partners with a developmental disabilities, as a member, co-chair of the fundraising committee, and co-chair of the U of O chapter. She’s also spent time doing volunteer work with developmentally disabled individuals in Uganda. Whenever McQuaig has an open research assignment to do for school, she likes to explore topics related to disability—such as cultural attitudes, acceptance, and disability policy—and she hopes to use her post-secondary studies and volunteer experience to pursue a career in that same field.

McQuaig’s buddy is Marcel, a man with a genetic disability who is now in his mid-40s but remains at the intellectual level of an eight-year-old. She spends time with Marcel once a week doing things they both enjoy and supporting him as she introduces him to new experiences.

McQuaig says people put themselves through a lot of stress in daily life, including the fear of just being themselves. But when she’s with Marcel, that stress vanishes. She calls it rejuvenating—a vacation from the outside world.

Marcel doesn’t judge. He doesn’t criticize. He doesn’t cause unnecessary stress. Marcel just appreciates.

“I’ve learned to slow down and appreciate the simple things in life,” said McQuaig. “I tend to get caught up in school and work and volunteering, and just kind of rush through my days. I’m always looking at my planner at what’s the next thing I have to do. But when I’m with Marcel, I take a deep breath and I leave my stress at the door. He reminds me to laugh at myself, because he makes fun of me sometimes when I’m being a ball of stress and I shouldn’t be. He likes to just sit and enjoy his coffee, and he’ll do that in complete silence. And sometimes, I think I forget the value of silence, too.”

But according to McQuaig, Marcel is at a further disadvantage beyond that of his own disability. Many people have a preconceived misunderstanding of people like him.

“Individuals living with physical disabilities have seen a lot of change and more acceptance into society … but people living with intellectual disabilities, I think, are at a really great disadvantage,” she said.

Based on 2006 data published by Human Resources and Skills Development Canada and Statistics Canada, approximately 200,000 Canadians live with developmental disabilities. That’s about one in every 200 people—one person out of a population sample that could fill a moderate-sized lecture hall like Desmarais 1160.

Maaike Brouwers is a volunteer with Best Buddies and an instructor at Ballerina Dreams, a dance program for children with physical and mental disabilities. Although one in 200 people has a developmental disability, she said that doesn’t and shouldn’t make them any different.

“To me, these people are equal, which is something that not a lot of people see,” said Brouwers, who graduated from health sciences at the U of O last spring.

Brouwers takes her Best Buddies partner to sporting events—he’s a lot more excited about them than she is, but that’s OK—and has even taken him on a trip to Toronto. Brouwers says her involvement with the program serves as a helpful reminder of how to be a good friend.

However, she noted that a common mistake many people make when engaging with individuals with special needs is to treat them as children. In most cases, the intention isn’t bad, but it comes off as condescending rather than helpful—and the individual being treated that way will often pick up on it. Those who regularly spend time with people with developmental disabilities will agree that respect and equality are key components of a healthy interaction with someone who has a developmental disability.

“I don’t think that I necessarily treat my best buddy in any particular way,” said Brouwers. “I treat him with the same respect and in the same way that I treat my other friends, and I think that’s something that people have a hard time with.

“They don’t want to be babied,” she added. “They want to be treated at an age-appropriate level.”

Putting a stop to stigma
There’s a stigma attached to mental disabilities that goes beyond just misunderstandings. It seems to be embedded in our culture, even in our language. There’s a word many refer to as “the R word.” It’s a word that’s been significantly normalized to be a part of plenty of people’s regular vernacular to describe something incredibly stupid or silly. According to McQuaig, people tend to not realize that in this misappropriated context, the word is deeply hurtful.

“We do have to be more cognizant of the language that we’re using,” she said, having dropped the word from her vocabulary back in high school. “The pejorative meaning of the term ‘retarded’ is very negative now and it does hurt people that have been labelled ‘slow,’ or having retarded physical development or retarded mental development.

“It’s supposed to mean delayed. And that’s not what the word means anymore.”

Though the word began as a medical term with a specific clinical connotation, it morphed into the derogatory uses of “retard” and “retarded” that degrade people with mental disabilities and reinforce the stereotype that those people are less valuable in society.
An online campaign hosted at R-word.org asks people to pledge to stop using those words in order to start creating “more accepting attitudes and communities for all people.” Created by the Joseph P. Kennedy Jr. Foundation for the Benefit of Persons with Intellectual Disabilities, the campaign is supported by the Special Olympics, Best Buddies, and more than 200 other organizations and has received close to 400,000 pledges so far.

“I just think that you have to be conscious of that yourself,” said Brouwers. “Whenever my friends say the R word, I correct them—not even in a bad way, just like, ‘I don’t think that’s what you mean; I think you can come up with better adjectives; that can’t be the best word you can find to describe that.’ And I think that kind of thing helps.”

The hope for these students is to eliminate misconceptions and improve the language people use, and the message is that people are people—whether they have Down syndrome, autism, or any sort of identified or unidentified mental disability.

“They’re not defined by what their disability is,” said Laura Knox, a third-year sociology student at the U of O. “That’s just something that they have. But they’re still their own person; they just maybe communicate a little bit differently.”

Knox is the head instructor at Making Waves Ottawa, a volunteer-run organization based out of the U of O that gives one-on-one swimming lessons to children aged three to 18 who are developmentally delayed, medically challenged, or who otherwise require complex or palliative care. The club has grown from 12 to 60 student instructors in less than three years and was recently presented with a Healthy Kids Award by the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario.

It’s about receiving, too
Students in this line of volunteering tend to take a two-way street through life. It’s asking for nothing, but receiving something anyway. It’s about unselfishness, personal learning, and greater social change.

“I definitely learned a lot about patience, about responsibility—just putting other people before yourself,” said Burt.

“You see the child grow so much and develop their learning skills and communication skills … but you develop your teaching skills and your communication skills throughout the program, so you’re both learning, but in different ways,” explained Knox.

Life can move more slowly for the people who take the time to be there for someone else and to better understand the world around them. We’re growing up fast and it seems that time isn’t on our side. Education allows you to learn, but it doesn’t necessarily always allow you to grow.

When these students spend time with their friends with special needs, it puts everything into perspective. Those moments of compassion, understanding, and friendship—or just moments of simple silence—can make all the difference in a person’s life.
They’re moments that serve as a reminder that life doesn’t have to be so short after all.