Every year, the grade 12 students write a “This I Believe” speech/essay.

Amelia’s was, “This I Believe in the Compassion of Children.”

I did ask her if it was ok if I share her essay in my blog and she agreed. When she read it to me, I immediately felt like it was such a beautiful perspective to consider and I wanted to share it. So here are some excerpts.

“Growing up having a brother with severe special needs immensely changed the way I perceive the world.

As I observe the way society interacts with my family, specifically my brother, I find something so peculiar. Judgement is often only passed by adults who care not to look with curiosity, but rather with pity, all while thinking inclusion is simply about a ramp.

It is children who have the natural curiosity to ask the most, simple questions. Often staring, not out of judgement but full of curiosity. This is followed by a stream of questions we try our best to answer. Why is he in a wheelchair? Why doesn’t he eat food? Why isn’t he answering me? Does he want to play outside? The simplest yet most caring and thoughtful questions – it’s this,

their curiosity and willingness to learn that allows them to interact so differently than adults in order to find true inclusion.

My brother loves to interact with people, though harder and more delayed for him than others. When I think back on his many interactions with people, it is children that most stand out. They treat him like he is a healthy, normal, twelve-year old boy.

One little girl who comes to the house often, always makes an effort to speak to my brother as soon as she gets there. She ignores my parents and hers as she speaks directly to William, even if the only thing she gets back are jumbled groans and a digital blurb of text read by an irritating automated voice.

This can lead to some disappointment as maybe he would have learned to speak since the last time – something I hope sometimes too.

This is all followed by a desperate and empathetic need to include him in every activity.

Her parents apologize for the ruckus but

for us, seeing someone look pasts the disability is the greatest gift – it’s something we rarely see from adults.

Adults hear his groans and assume limitation before even attempting connection. Children hear them and immediately search for inclusion. Their empathy and kindness are contagious.

It leads me to think about how much more compassionate our world would be if we simply took the time to ask questions – questions about the simple things.

If we took time to be curious, embracing the characteristics seen in children, maybe the world would become a more compassionate place.

I often complain that I find children annoying and that point still stands, somewhat. Though

I think today we have more to learn from the wonder that children possess than they have to learn from us.

Their unwavering commitment to trying to be inclusive and creative in finding solutions, particularly with my brother, will always be inspiring. I aspire to hold half the empathy, curiosity, and kindness that children have as I navigate my way through the world.

I believe in the compassion, curiosity, and authenticity of children.”

I think this message spans across circumstances. I love the perspective of asking the basic questions. I love the concept of getting to know someone for who they are rather than what you assume they are. And

I love that, at 17 years old, she can credit youngsters with having something unmatched by those with more years. I kind of think we could all benefit from finding a little more child in ourselves – the less affected parts of ourselves – challenge accepted.

~ Keely

Keely is an author and advocate for children living with disabilities. She lives on Vancouver Island in beautiful British Columbia, with her husband, her son William who has cerebral palsy, her two daughters and several four-legged friends.