Clark Pride: The Rose Williams Story

“My heart pounded as I walked up Belmont Avenue,” recalls Rose Williams. “There I stood once again in front of George Rogers Clark School. I had always longed to go back to my elementary roots being the first physically challenged student in a regular class.”

Williams, now a published author and motivational speaker, saw her recent invitation to return to Clark School as both “wonderful and ironic.” Upon entering the school as an adult, Williams, a Charlottesville native and winner of the 2008 Ms. Wheelchair Virginia honor, couldn’t help but to sift through an array of childhood memories.

“My mind drifted back forty years to my first arrival. I was seven years of age when Dad first took me to Clark. I was very happy to be registering in the first grade,” she recalls. Things quickly changed.

“The principal of Clark School, was a masculine-looking lady, stout with broad shoulders and bobbie-pinned hair…she refused to place me in a regular class setting. She wanted to put me in a special class. She led my dad and me down the stairs through a long, gray, gloomy hallway in the basement to the special class of children.”

Williams remembers vividly holding her Dad’s hand, and squeezing it tightly, the kind of grip that a yearlong wait inspires – the kind of grip that says I’m clearly ready to learn with others, with and without disabilities.

“Even though I couldn't walk, run, or write as well as others, I wanted to be in a regular class where books and knowledge awaited,” says Williams. She recalls her Dad telling the principal that his daughter could learn to read and write just like the any other child, while explaining that she simply had cerebral palsy, a physical condition that would only affect her speech and mobility.

The principal did not budge, requesting a medical report from a doctor verifying her capabilities of learning. Williams and her father promptly left the school, and the misinformed principal, determined to secure an inclusive education. At home, Rose began her own educational journey. “While Dad was home for lunch, he would teach me how to write my name. He would put his big rough hand around mine, and we would write R-O-S E.”

The following year, the Williams family, in a new school district this time, prepared for different results. “Dad did not take me to the school on the first day. Instead, he took me to the bus stop just outside of the farm entrance, and he put me on the bus…my parents thought if they sent me to school instead of taking me, I would have a better chance of being accepted as a regular student.”

The new school – combined with new approach – worked, as Williams was quickly accepted. “What a victory,” she recalls today, remembering her first integrated classroom experience.

After a series of moves, Williams eventually ended up back at Clark School, standing in the same hall and before the same principal who once failed to recognize her abilities. “My Dad said, ‘Rose has been learning how to read and write in a regular school and has done very well,’ and we had the school records to prove it.” Quickly excelling at Clark School, Williams eventually won the affection of the principal, ultimately providing school officials with their own education in integrated learning.

Years later, back in her old elementary school once again, Rose Williams is now an educator, writer, and professional speaker. Walking the hallway, now painted in bright colors, Williams was amazed -- “because my memories of the school are in black and white.” Approaching the staircase, however, she cringed. “Although the steps were shallow, the flight was as high as Mount Everest. I had to tilt my head to see the top of them. I thought, ‘How did I ever manage them the four years when I was just was a short little girl.’” It was then that she was informed that she didn’t have to climb the stairs anymore – they now had an elevator.

Once on the second floor, Williams’ reminiscing stopped – the future stared her in the face. A classroom brimming with curious young students -- with and without disabilities – sat eagerly, waiting her arrival.

“There were future firefighters, pro-ball players, teachers, astronauts, scientists, and gymnasts,” says Williams, who spoke to the room about cerebral palsy briefly, saving the majority of the time to discuss their dreams. Afterwards the roomful of students had questions. Some asked, "Who do you live with?”,”Are you scared to live alone?," and "Who helps you at home?" Others asked, "How do you drive a car without getting hurt?" and "What kind of job do you have?”

After saying good-bye, Williams walked down Belmont Avenue thinking about all the accomplishments she had achieved as a student at Clark School. “Then, I suddenly remembered a winter-green V-shaped banner I just had seen hanging across from the elevator, and in gold letters it said, ‘Just Can't Hide Our Clark Pride.’ I felt that Clark Pride as I stopped and turned to see the school once more. I thought -- I am proud to have come back to the school that had reservations about me being in a regular class and sharing with a group of kind-hearted children that success is not achieved in great leaps, but a series of tiny steps taken over a life long journey.”