Shirley Naegeli

Sometimes, I want to cry. Not because I don't care. Not because I am not trying. Not because I don't want to learn. But because learning can feel like climbing a mountain while everyone else seems to have been given wings. And I am still trying to find my footing. I watch people's mouths move, desperately trying to catch every word. Reading lips. Watching expressions. Looking for clues. Putting together little pieces of conversations like a puzzle with half the pieces missing. And sometimes, I still don't understand. Instructions are spoken, and the words disappear before I can process them. Instructions are written, and somehow the meaning gets lost between the sentences. I read them again. And again. And sometimes again. I reread the assignment. I stare at the questions. I search for what the instructor is actually asking me to do. What does this mean? What am I supposed to write? Am I understanding this correctly? Why does everyone else seem to know where to begin? And the hardest part? I genuinely want to understand. I WANT to learn. I WANT to participate. I WANT to do well. I WANT to demonstrate what I know. But wanting something doesn't magically make the barriers disappear. There is an exhaustion that comes from constantly translating the world. From listening so carefully that your brain feels like it has run a marathon. From trying to hear instructions while simultaneously watching someone's lips, processing their words, remembering what they said, and figuring out what you're supposed to do next. There is an exhaustion that nobody sees. Because from the outside, I might look like I am listening. I might look like I understand. I might even smile and nod. But inside, I am desperately trying to catch up. And sometimes I am embarrassed to ask again. Embarrassed to say, "Could you repeat that?" "Could you explain it differently?" "Could you please write that down?" "Can you help me understand what this assignment is asking?" How many times can someone ask for clarification before they start feeling like a burden? How many times can someone struggle silently before somebody notices? I wish people understood that auditory struggles are not simply about hearing. They are about processing. Interpreting. Remembering. Connecting sounds to meaning. They are about the energy it takes to understand what other people might absorb effortlessly. And school? Oh, school. Sometimes the assignments feel like another language. The academic expectations, the instructions, the readings, the writing, the citations, the pressure to organize thoughts and turn them into something that makes sense to somebody else. I have thoughts. I have ideas. I have things worth saying. But getting those thoughts out of my head and onto paper can feel like trying to hold water in my hands. Please don't mistake my difficulty expressing something for a lack of understanding. Please don't mistake my need for clarification for a lack of intelligence. Please don't mistake my silence for a lack of interest. Because there is a person behind that silence who is trying so incredibly hard. And sometimes, I seriously want to cry every day. Not because I have given up, but because I am tired of having to work so much harder just to access the same information. I wish learning didn't have to hurt this much. I wish people understood that accessibility isn't about giving someone an advantage. It's about removing barriers that were never theirs to carry in the first place.

Remember and honor Andrew Goodman, James Chaney and Michael Schwerner and the price they paid when they were murdered for voting rights in Mississippi, 1964: