Feel Good Story of the Day: The Legend of Toby Williams

You know how I love happy news and uplifting stories. As graduation season gets into full-swing, we will surely find a plethora of stories about students overcoming incredible odds and obstacles to reach their goals and provide an exceptional life for them and their families through education. What I love most about these stories is that they prove there's nothing that can't be accomplished through hard work and never-ending determination and focus.

Today's story is about Toby Williams, master's degree candidate at Northeastern Illinois University with cerebral palsy.

The Legend of Toby Williams
by Kara Spak, Chicago Sun-Times, May 6, 2010

Toby Williams knows what people think when they see him in his wheelchair, hear his slow speech, notice how his eyes don't move together.

"It's there, it's always there, it will continue to be there," he said of assumptions that he is less capable because he has cerebral palsy. "I expect it."

But he doesn't accept it.

"I enjoy proving people wrong," he said.

On Saturday, the 30-year-old Englewood man once again will prove himself when he accepts a master's degree in communications, media and theater from Northeastern Illinois University. He has been enrolled as a student there for 13 years.

"I enjoyed meeting the challenge," he said. "It might take me a couple of years, but eventually I'll beat the challenge."

Cerebral palsy is a neurological disorder that manifests in infancy or early childhood. His brain is unable to control his muscles.

For his first 20 years, he went to therapy -- physical, speech, occupational -- for hours after school. He underwent three surgeries.

In 1997, as a senior at Spaulding School, a Chicago Public School for students with disabilities, he was recruited to Northeastern as part of a grant program to help disabled students move to college-level classes. He started there weeks after high school graduation.

"He liked it, and in the fall he came back for the term," said Victoria Amey-Flippin, director of Northeastern's accessibility center.

He returned semester after semester. For 13 years, Williams has been a campus legend, eating in the cafeteria, working as a graduate assistant for Amey-Flippin and studying for a bachelor's degree, which he received in 2004, and now his master's degree.

His typical day starts when a wheelchair-accessible van takes him about 20 miles to campus from his South Side home, dropping him off at 9 a.m. He often stays on campus until 8 p.m.

He can't control his hands enough to take notes, so he records classes on a tape recorder. He types 30-page papers with his index fingers. His other fingers "don't work right," he said.

He receives extra time for tests, which he takes in the accessibility center where he works. He answers the same questions as the other students, but an employee types the answers for him. Though he gets extra time for the tests, he must complete classes in the same time frame as other students, so he often didn't take a full course load during a semester.

"He has a tremendous memory," said Cody Sweet, who taught Williams voice and diction courses in 2003 and 2004. "He has to take all the verbiage into his brain and he has to organize it, put it in little pigeonholes in his brain."

Thanks to an outgoing personality and his long tenure at the school, he's known by students and faculty throughout the Northwest Side campus. While he said he's ready to move on, those who are used to seeing him day after day are not quite as sure.

"I find myself getting a little choked up," Amey-Flippin said. "It really did seem strange to go through the cafeteria and not see him up in the front."

Williams gradually has been spending less time on campus because of an internship at American Street Mortgage Co., where he works with a former classmate who specializes in mortgage loans for veterans. He is hoping to eventually obtain a state mortgage broker's license. "It's time to start working and make some money," he said.

He knows that even with a master's degree, he is entering the job market in a shaky economy. He remains undeterred.

"My mom always told me there will always be people who don't think you can do it," he said. "Don't listen to them. Focus on what you're trying to do, keep praying to God and focus. Eventually you'll get there."

The Power of Make-Up

Tonight I pampered 33 of the absolutely most beautiful women I've ever seen. Unfortunately, you'll never see them on the catwalk, gracing the pages of fashion magazines, or larger than life in all their celluloid fabulousness.

These women all live at Clearbrook and all have some form of developmental disabilities. Tonight was a special spa night for them. Clearbrook treated them to a dinner of sub sandwiches and then they had their nails, hair, and make-up done. I did the make-up.

Some of the women couldn't wait to see what was in my bags; others were shy and timid.

As I began to set up, a woman named Rochelle walked up, sat down, and proceeded to quiz me. What's your name? Where do you live? Is it nice? Where do you work? What is your religion? What church do you go to? Are you married? How old are your kids? Do you have a cat? What kind? What's his name? Immediately, I was put at ease.

A few minutes later the first group of women walked in and I suddenly got nervous. I teach women how to apply and wear make-up all the time, but they all have advanced motor skills and know something about make-up. For many of these women, this was their first experience with make-up . . . ever.

Immediately, they asked if I was going to do their make-up for them. I don't ever do anyone's make-up. What makes Mary Kay unique is that we teach women how to do it themselves rather than doing it for them, but I was momentarily re-thinking whether this was the right move with these women. Exuding confidence I didn't really have, I told them I was going to teach them how to do their make-up. Some weren't sure they could, but I assured them it would all be all right. The more I said it, the more I believed it.

By the end of the evening and with only one mascara mistake that we quickly corrected, almost 33 women had been pampered, taught a new skill, and had smiles on their faces the size of Texas. They told me about their boyfriends and couldn't wait to show them their new looks. They ooh'd and ahh'd over each other and giggled about lipstick application. Some of them told me about their jobs and helped each other when I didn't have enough hands or couldn't answer all the questions at once. They all had a new confidence about applying and wearing make-up themselves.

After everyone finished, the ladies all clapped for each other, thanked me profusely, and went on to their next stop - hair or nails. I thought I was done and had begun cleaning up, when one last woman walked in alone with one of the staff members. She said she changed her mind and wanted to try some make-up, after all. She had been unsure before because people told her she didn't look good with make-up, but she wanted to try. Without hesistation, I pulled the make-up back out and told her she was the luckiest woman of the evening because we got to work one-on-one and she'd get the most attention. Ten minutes later, her eyes were beaming with pride and we couldn't get the mirror out of her hand. She not only looked beautiful, but she had done it herself, as they all had, and she was overflowing with pride.

As we were finishing, another woman walked back in and wrapped her arms around me to say thank you.

I honestly don't know who was more affected tonight, me or the beautiful women of Clearbrook. They learned a new skill, gained confidence, and were reminded they are beautiful. I re-learned the power of making a woman feel good about herself; that no matter who we are, whether we have disabilities, or are fully able-bodied, and no matter what our skill level, we all want to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. I fell in love with my job all over again.

Update to "Disabled Doesn't Mean Unabled" or A Hand Up Isn't a Hand Out

This story just keeps getting better.

What I love most about it is the reminder that just because Winfred Cooper received a hand up to help him achieve his dream, it wasn't a "hand out" and it didn't guarantee him success. HE caught the ball and HE ran for the touchdown. Yes, there was some help facilitating both of those things, but the ball could have slipped through his hands or he could have tripped on his way to the end zone. There are a host of variables that could have resulted in Coop not catching the ball and not scoring a touchdown. But at the end of the day, Coop did the work he had prepared to do in countless practice sessions over the years. He probably worked harder than many of his peers to achieve football skills many of them mastered with ease.

When discussing disability services, I hear so many people try to argue that it's not "fair" to give someone extra time to take a test or services to help them with activities of daily living or whatever "hand up" they need to give them a shot at success because this gives the recipient an unfair advantage.

People with disabilities, whether physical, neurological, developmental or mental disabilities, are just like everyone else. They want to feel good about themselves. They want to contribute to society in whatever way they can. They don't want things just handed to them or to be treated as incapable. They aren't looking to be coddled or to be pitied, but they often need just an extra hand to get them to the same starting point you and I take for granted everyday.