Many educators worry about first impressions. For me, the anxiety wasn’t about lesson plans or classroom management. It was about how my students would react to my stutter – a speech disability I’ve lived with since childhood. The fear wasn’t irrational: society still carries misconceptions about disabilities, and some people judge those who deviate from perceived “normal” communication.
The Stigma of Speech Disabilities
Roughly 1% of the global population stutters, yet the condition remains misunderstood. Stuttering isn’t just about repeating sounds (“Mmmmy name is Ssssssamuel”). It’s a neurological difference that manifests in prolongations, repetitions, and pauses. The stigma is real. I once had a teacher flatly tell me I shouldn’t teach because of my speech. This kind of blunt dismissal highlights a broader issue: society often dictates who is “qualified” based on arbitrary standards of fluency.
From Anxiety to Advocacy
I teach writing online, a format that amplified my concerns. On screen, my stutter felt more exposed than it would in person, where body language might soften the perception. However, my career shift into accessibility justice gave me the courage to be open about my disability. I decided to disclose my stutter to my students on the first day of class.
The result surprised me. Instead of judgment, I was met with curiosity. After joking about how long the class might take because of my stutter, students started asking questions.
- “Do you stutter more in specific situations?”
- “What does it feel like when you stutter?”
Their genuine interest was a revelation. It wasn’t pity or awkwardness, but a desire to understand. One student even emailed me later, inspired to share their own learning disability after my disclosure.
Why Disclosure Matters
My experience underscores a simple truth: silence perpetuates stigma. When we avoid talking about disability, we reinforce the idea that it’s something to be ashamed of. By being transparent, I created space for a conversation that normalized difference.
The truth is, not talking about disability in the classroom does it a disservice. It isn’t normalized, and it should be.
Choosing to disclose my stutter didn’t just ease my own anxiety. It made me a more effective educator, fostering a classroom where vulnerability and understanding are valued.
In the end, opening up about my speech disability wasn’t just about me. It was about creating a more inclusive learning environment where all students – including those with disabilities – feel seen and respected.
