Quotes About Inclusion

Less and less we were freaks. More and more we were curiosities.

For so long I'd been doing what I'd accused other people of doing—I was seeing the deafness, not the people.

Having hearing children meant they had to come into contact with hearing people even more frequently than they would have otherwise—hearing teachers and scout leaders wouldn't have been such a part of their lives.

Like virtually all schools for the deaf at that time, the Indiana State School emphasized oral skills: speaking and lipreading.

I think it's important that people don't feel alone.

An inclusive narrative structure provides the executive brain with the best template and strategy for the oversight and coordination of the functions of mind. A story well told, containing conflicts and resolutions, gestures and expressions, and thoughts flavored with emotion, connects people ad integrates neural networks

Our lives are like a house. Some people are allowed on the lawn, some onto the porch, some get into the vestibule or the kitchen. The better friends are invited deeper into our home, into our living room.' 'And some are let into the bedroom,' said Gamache.

The reason "belonging" was so potent, so attractive, so much a part of the human yearning, was that it also meant safety, and loyalty. If you were "one of us" you were protected.

Our lives are like a house. Some people are allowed on the lawn, some onto the porch, some get into the vestibule or kitchen. The better friends are invited deeper into our home, into our living room.

It's important, Madeleine, not to cut people out of our lives. Isolation doesn't make us better at our job. It makes us weaker, more vulnerable.

Gamache had been to Three Pines on previous investigations and each time he'd had the feeling he belonged. It was a powerful feeling. After all, what else did people really want except to belong? He

Not everyone makes the boat, she thought.

Three short words, but potent. They more than anything had launched a thousand ships, a thousand attacks. One of us. A circle drawn. And closed. A boundary marked. Those inside and those not.

the lost women I need to know their names those women I would have walked with, jauntily the way men go in groups swinging their arms, and the ones those sweating women whom I would have joined After a hard game to chew the fat what would we have called each other laughing joking into our beer? where are my gangs, my teams, my mislaid sisters? all the women who could have known me, where in the world are their names?

The literature of America should reflect the children of America.

and this is not the time I think to ask who is allowed to be american america all of us gathered under one flag praying together safely warmed by the single love of the many tongued God

Josie said] I just ... I don't like the way you treat kids who aren't like us, all right? Just because you don't want to hang out with losers doesn't mean you have to torture them, does it? Yeah, it does, Matt said. Because if there isn't a them, there can't be an us. His eyes narrowed. You should know that better than anyone.

transgender?" "I like to think about it in terms of handedness," Dr. Powers explains. "If I asked you to sign your name with your nondominant hand, it would feel weird. If I asked you to describe it to me, you'd probably say things like the pen doesn't fit comfortably in my hand; or it's awkward; or I have to try hard to make legible something that I can do with my other hand effortlessly. It feels forced.

Unlike the characters in the book, however, these different sorts of people don't seem to mix well. It is like the salad dressing Jessamyn makes: a little bit of olive oil, a squeeze of lemon, and some red wine vinegar. If whipped, they combine. But leave them to their own devices and they will sort themselves out again. I don't really understand this. When you have so many people, each one inevitably fascinating, why would you limit yourself to only those like you?

They look up at me and see a rich lady in maternity clothes. They don't realize I am one of them.

It was easy to be proud of the kid who got straight A's and who made the winning basket-a kid the world already adored. But true character showed when you could find something to love in a child everyone else hated.

In so many ways my entire career has been about untangling the knots that society tangles itself in as we futilely attempt to separate the us from the them.

When you're different, sometimes you don't see the millions of people who accept you for what you are. All you notice is the one person who doesn't.

I don't really understand this. When you have so many people, each one inevitably fascinating, why would you limit yourself to only those like you?