As part of her role as Vice Chair for Mission, University Regent Sharon Cade (’76) invited Anthony Verducci (’16) to share his Gonzaga story with the Board and other guests over the Zagapalooza weekend in October of 2015. Some in attendance were moved nearly to tears by Verducci’s experience and the challenge he set forth for Zags everywhere. Also featured in Gonzaga’s 2015 online Advent calendar, here is his story, in his own words.
When I first set foot on campus in 2012 as a freshman, I had already decided exactly who I was going to grow up to be and how my college years were going to play out. But what I didn’t anticipate was that my “Gonzaga moment” would drastically change the path that I had originally set out for myself.
It was a cold, dark, stormy Thursday evening in late February. I had been volunteering with a group on campus called Gonzaga University Specialized Recreation (GUSR). For those of you who aren’t familiar, GUSR works to pair college students with people with disabilities in the Spokane community to put on biannual play performances, weekly sports programming, and special events. It was a particularly stressful week for me—I had three midterm exams the next day, I hadn’t been eating or sleeping well, and I had fallen ill as a result. In my cloud of negativity, I shuffled into College Hall, where that night’s GUSR programming was being held. Without acknowledging any of the participants or volunteers, I made my way to the corner of the room. My good friend Joey Wheeler, a 51-year-old participant of GUSR, noticed I wasn’t in a good place and came over to talk to me. He tapped me on the shoulder, looked into my eyes and said, “Hey buddy. You’re special and I love you.”
In that moment, all of my priorities shifted. The exams that I had been worrying about all week didn’t seem to matter much anymore, and over the next few days I came to realize just how happy I was each week at GUSR. I laughed a lot, I was vulnerable, I didn’t put up barriers, and I was no longer self-conscious about my dorky dance moves. I was in my element. A few months later, I made the decision to become a special education major in the hopes of learning how to better serve individuals who had given me a new perspective on life.
After spending copious amounts of time in the disability community, I explored all of the different avenues that the field has to offer. I’ve been a caregiver, taught in special education classrooms, become a camp counselor, worked in behavior therapy settings, and so on. I’ve learned so many lessons and met countless wise, honest, loving individuals.
I’ve learned that every single person, regardless of their disability, skin color, gender, socio-economic status, and so on, has something special to share with the world and has infinite worth as a human being. Take my friend Aschdon, who was a camper of mine over this past summer—despite being limited to motor movement in two of his fingers, Aschdon went the entire week undefeated in chess. He also has more dating experience than all of my friends and I combined, so every time I’m having girl troubles I give him a call and he offers up some relationship wisdom far beyond his years.
I’ve learned that every person, no matter how profound his or her disability, has a sense of humor. Daniel is a relatively new GUSR participant that we have all come to know and love. He has profound cerebral palsy, is nonverbal, and is one of the funniest guys I know. Daniel loves pranks. Just a few weeks ago, he spontaneously began to act very sad and turned his head away from me, so I approached him and asked what was wrong. This was very uncharacteristic of Daniel. As I positioned myself close to his chair to see what was the matter, he quickly pressed forward on his wheelchair’s joystick and proceeded to run over my toes. He could not stop laughing for the next 20 minutes and proceeded to taunt me by driving straight at me for the rest of the afternoon.
I’ve learned that the disability community is a vulnerable population, and unfortunately society often takes advantage of this. I’ve seen beautiful individuals robbed of their dignity, reduced to a label, and called “retarded” just because they have an extra chromosome, or because they may think differently than you and I. I’ve seen this discrimination in legislation, in the media, throughout Spokane, and even within the Gonzaga community. It breaks my heart every time one of my friends tell me stories about a bad experience they had in public or how they are often told they can’t do things because of their disability.
In response to this problem, the GUSR team and I increased our advocacy efforts to end stigmatization against people with disabilities through our “End the R-Word” campaign and by encouraging people to celebrate talents and abilities, rather than point out the things that make us different from one another. Using our resources provided by the CCASL and the University, we aim to break down barriers by creating a visible presence on campus, sharing our abilities in events like our coffeehouse talent show and play each semester, and by advocating in the community. I also plan to continue my advocacy efforts after graduation by creating a documentary film to examine how disabilities are viewed across cultures, religions, and socio-economic statuses.
So now I encourage each of you to look at disability in a new way. Recognize that a unique mind is a wonderful thing worth sharing; everyone has something special to offer the world, and each person has infinite worth. I also invite you to remove the r-word from your vocabulary and join me in my quest to advocate for those who can’t necessarily advocate for themselves.