Most of us are close to someone, or at least know someone, with a disability. Someone who is mentally challenged, socially awkward, physically handicapped, or has a mental illness. Odds are there is someone like this who holds a special place in your heart. If you don’t, you’re lucky, not because you don’t have to handle the challenges, but because you don’t have to see how society treats them.

You’re probably thinking, “Does she even have a clue what she is talking about?” While I don’t experience this first hand, I have watched my brother and been by his side through every trial and every triumph.

My brother was diagnosed with autism when he was four; I was turning seven- just a little girl who really didn’t understand what was going on. All I knew at that point was that my younger brother was different and that there was more to his little quirks. As we grew older, I witnessed some cruel things happen, things that still infuriate me.

Third grade is when kids start being cruel; little kids are very brutal and critical of one another. It is the prime time where kids start being accepted, or in this case, not accepted. I went to a small school so we never had to deal with bullying. Being three grades above my brother, I walked down the hall to pick him up at the end of the school day. The day I caught some little punk wrinkling my brother's math homework up was the day I thought I would be sent to the principal's office. I yelled at the kid and I thought I was gonna punch that little weasel, but decided to tell a teacher because I had to be a good role model for my brother.

What killed me on the inside was on the walk home my brother asked my why the kid messed with his homework. While I was so angry, it subsided immediately after that question, then sadness filled my heart. I couldn’t really answer his question- I just said “I don’t really know buddy. Some people are just mean and do mean things.” Ten years later and this memory, every detail, is still engraved in my mind.

He’s been through many different experiences, ones that I can’t truly relate to. I make friends very easily, I am a very social person, I stand up for myself, all things my brother struggled with. Because of his experiences and the lack of help from the public school system, my brother chose to be homeschooled after his third grade year. Through his homeschooling, he has became a strong, smart, independent guy.

While I would do anything to take away all his bad memories and experiences, I can’t. He became the person he is because of the jack asses who made him feel inferior, and the people who love him and built him up. My favorite thing is coming home from college and getting the biggest hug from my little (well not so little anymore) brother. Seeing his huge grin when I walk through door is a face that I won’t ever forget. I wouldn’t change or trade my brother for the world. He’s my person.