Have Mercy on Kids Who Stutter

Did you know that Friday was International Stuttering Awareness Day? Three million other Americans, or approximately 1% of the population, stutters. That said, my guest today is Ms. Pamela Mertz, who also has a brilliant and heartfelt blog...Make Room For The Stuttering. Right now she's posting a series on women who stutter. I encourage all of you to check it out.

Have Mercy on Kids Who Stutter

Imagine being an 11-year-old, in sixth grade. There are 30 kids in the class. The teacher takes attendance at the beginning of the period, and does it in a fairly traditional way. She calls each student's last name alphabetically, and each kid has to say "here" or "present."

No big deal, right? This is played out in classrooms all across the country.

The 11-year-old's last name begins with "S", so he has to wait while the other kids' names are called. It's always done the same way too, starting with the "A"s, never with "Z."

Waiting, this kid does what he always does. He focuses on what he is going to say and what will happen when he says it. His palms start to get sweaty and his heart starts to pound. He can feel his face grow really hot and realizes he is squirming in his seat.

He is thinking, "Please, not today, please not today, please let it be OK today." But he knows that the same thing is going to happen.

He wishes he was sick and could go to the nurse's office.

Then he hears the teacher say "Stasick." He decides to say "here," which might go easier than it did yesterday. He opens his mouth, says "hu-hu-hu-hhhhh- here" and his eyes squeeze shut. He hears the teacher call the next kid's name.

Maybe it won't happen today. Nah, he hears it, the snickers from the kids sitting behind him. Then the skinny kid with big ears whispers loudly, "Spastic Stasick, he can't t-t-t-t-talk."
The kid tries to shrink down in his seat as he hears the kids laughing at him, just quietly enough so that the teacher doesn't hear it. She never does. He has thought about telling her, but knows that will just make things worse.

It's bad enough that he is pulled out of his classroom twice a week to go to speech. When he is pulled out, (and it's always during math or science, the classes he likes) he hears the kids whisper, "There goes spastic Stasick with the b-b-b-b-babies learning how to talk".
He can't talk to his speech teacher about the teasing either; he only gets 20 minutes with her and there is usually another speech kid in the room.

There is no way the kid can tell his mom, because she always tells him to slow down and think about what he is trying to say before he talks. The kid keeps thinking, "No one understands me."
Lunch time is the worst. No one sits with him, and when kids walk by, they snicker and laugh. A couple of times, the skinny kid with big ears bumped into him on purpose, knocking him into the wall and making him drop his stuff. The kid and his friends start yelling, "Spastic can't walk either." That gets other kids laughing, including girls.

This kid stutters. He dreads being called on in class. He never raises his hand, even when he knows an answer, and is teased a lot. He is called names, left out socially and sometimes pushed. He does not know anyone else who talks like him and is really starting to hate school.
Kids who stutter get teased and bullied. Kids can be cruel, especially in middle school. Most people do not understand stuttering, because they have never met someone who stutters. Only about 1 percent of the population stutters and it's usually boys.

If you know a kid who stutters, know this: It's not his fault. Stuttering is an involuntary stoppage of normal speech flow. It can be hereditary and some research suggests that it is a neurological disorder. There is no known cure yet for stuttering, but therapy with someone who understands stuttering can help, especially with feelings of shame, embarrassment and isolation.

Kids who stutter are just like anyone else, they just talk differently. It is not OK to tease or bully a kid who stutters. We have heard enough in the news lately about what happens when bullying is left unchecked.

Friday was International Stuttering Awareness Day. The only way to raise awareness about stuttering is to talk about it. It will sure make it easier for the kids.

To learn more, visit The National Association for Young People Who Stutter, the National Stuttering Association, and The College of Saint Rose. Or Pamela's blog, Make Room for the Stuttering.

Judge Not...

One of the cardinal rules of joyful living is that judging others takes a great deal of energy, and, without exception, pulls you away from where you want to be. ~Richard Carlson

Today I’m going to write about judging others. Over the years, several people in my life have remarked on my ability to be so understanding and accepting of others—at least when The Alien isn’t around, which, thankfully, is most of the time :). But the real me is usually pretty open, easygoing, and tolerant, inclined to give everyone and anyone the benefit of the doubt. That often ends up with me being taken advantage of in one way or another, but I’ve decided I’d rather go through life trusting people than not. When they fall down on the job, or fail to come through for me, that’s on them, not me for trusting them to do what they said they were going to do.

Doesn’t make my life any easier when something falls through and I have to scramble to compensate, but at least I know it’s not because I didn’t withhold my trust or support.

But I digress. Like I said, I wanted to write about judging others. I used to judge people all the time. Made me feel superior to them in some way, I guess. I don’t remember now, because now I make a conscious effort not to judge. Why is this? I didn’t have a lightning bolt of awareness strike me one day and do a total turn around in thinking, that’s for sure. My level of tolerance and understanding came slowly. It came as I got older, and it came over time. Eventually, I noticed it came every time I judged someone. Maybe not right away, but eventually, it came.

Funny how that worked. I’d look at someone and think, why on earth would they (do or say whatever it was they were doing and saying) and pass judgment…Good Lord, I’d never do (or say) that…and then, eventually, unfailingly, in God’s own time, I would find myself in that very same situation.

And I would understand. And I would remember passing judgment. And I would feel badly about it.

Fortunately I don’t usually speak my judgments aloud, so I had nobody to apologize to but thin air, but still…

They haunt me. I remember. And I have learned from them.

For instance, I was at a writer’s retreat one weekend, and a group of us were sitting in a room talking about writing, and a woman spoke up and said something to the effect of, “I haven’t written a word since I started having children.” Me, being childless at the time, thought, “Well that’s no excuse. You just tell the kids you’re busy and you write.”

Then I had my own son, who never took naps, and was always so sunny and inquisitive—I used to wish he would be bad so I could put him down for a forced nap and get some writing done—but it never happened. He was awake, lively, endlessly curious, and a joy to be with. Not tired at all. Until the end of the day, and by then I was exhausted, so no writing got done. For years.

Finally, I understood. And when I see that woman’s name on her books now…I remember, and wince a little inside. Because now I know what she meant, and how she felt, and how honest and brave it was of her to speak the truth to that room full of writers.

Another thing I never understood was why women didn’t color their roots a whole lot sooner. I’d see an inch of gray peeking out, and wonder, why even bother coloring if you’re going to run around looking like that?

Then I started coloring. And then I learned. Finally I gave up, and went gray. And for at least six months, while I let the color grow out, I was one of those women I used to judge. And I was aware of it every single day.

Those are only two of thousands of examples I have learned from over the years. Now, because of God’s uncanny ability to show me why people do the things they do when I, in my imagined superiority, thought they should be doing something differently…I’ve learned not to judge people. Any time I find myself slipping back into old thought patterns and starting to judge someone, I’ll catch myself and change direction. Try to find a way to understand their seemingly inexplicable behavior. Not because I’ve developed this wonderful altruistic streak—but because I don’t want to know the answer—at least not from the inside out. If it’s a friend and he or she wants to share with me, I’m all ears.

But I don’t want to have that experience. I don’t want to find myself in their shoes. I don’t want to find myself having to make those same choices. I’d rather stick to my own problems and my own choices.

So I don’t judge people any more. Instead, I trust that they are doing the best that they can with what they have or know or believe at the time, and know that they are struggling right along with the rest of us.

Everyone I know is struggling with something in one way or another. Everyone. With jobs, or lack of jobs, relationships, or lack of relationships, health issues, family issues, financial issues, addictions, choices and decisions to be made….you name it. Financially, spiritually, mentally, physically—people are hurting all around me.

So now, instead of passing judgment, I offer compassion instead. And prayers. Lots of prayers.

Is there someone you can pray for today?


We know nothing of the trials, sorrows and temptations of those around us, of pillows wet with sobs, of the life-tragedy that may be hidden behind a smile, of the secret cares, struggles, and worries that shorten life and leave their mark in hair prematurely whitened, and a character changed and almost recreated in a few days. Let us not dare to add to the burden of another the pain of our judgment. ~ William George Jordan ~