
Much Ado About ADD
ADD isn’t an end of the world big deal. It’s really, really not. But it is a deal, it’s a thing. It’s a disability. It puts you on a different default setting.
ADD isn’t an end of the world big deal. It’s really, really not. But it is a deal, it’s a thing. It’s a disability. It puts you on a different default setting.
I’ve always wondered what it would’ve looked like to the outside world, this dance of ours. (Would we be pitied?)
Among Others is a terrific book, even if it isn’t perfect, and I’m so glad Walton represented a disabled teen girl as interesting, strong, and unique.
The story suggests that Kira’s talents as a threader make up for her disability, justifying her continued survival–with the disturbing implication that without it, she would be worthless.
Perhaps “normal” behavior is best described as a “normative spectrum.”
A mistake I see a lot of writers who write about disability make is asking only one person for help. I’ve heard so many people say things like, “I have a cousin who is blind, and she read the book and said it was good at portraying blindness.”
In terms of disabled characters, what would our contributors like to see more of in children’s literature?
I regularly recommend One-Handed Catch as the best book for young people about limb deficiency because it captures two big aspects of life with one fewer limb: humor and problem solving.
I’ve never written fiction about living with Crohn’s, and to be honest, I’ve never wanted to. Perhaps because I still feel what I felt for years growing up: that nobody wants to hear about my annoying, humiliating misery. Yet I know, intellectually, that this is a shame, because there should be more characters in YA literature who live with chronic illnesses like IBD.
Pete’s autism is portrayed over and over again as being non-stop pain and suffering. That got incredibly hard to read; do people really think this is what autism is like?