I was born with a rare birth defect called TARSA Syndrome, which means I am missing the radius bone in my forearms. My arms are shorter, but I never thought of myself as different. I dislike the label "disabled" because I believe I can do anything I set my mind to. With the support of my family, friends, and a special program for youth with disabilities, I've learned to advocate for myself and cultivate inner strength.
This journey hasn't been easy. I endured challenges like being picked last in baseball games due to difficulty catching, or facing curious stares in public. However, most people were accepting and helpful. In elementary school, classmates assisted me with tasks like opening my locker or picking up books.
My family immigrated from Poland specifically for my medical treatment, as the necessary technology wasn't available back home. I missed part of second grade for a series of forearm-lengthening surgeries at Los Angeles Shriners Hospital. Keeping up academically required extra effort, but my parents were always there—advocating with counselors and carrying my books.
Transitioning to seventh grade meant leaving the familiar comfort of elementary school and making new friends. I worried if others would see me for who I am, not just my disability. Initially shy, I often sat alone at lunch, hoping someone would approach me. Gradually, I made a few friends, and our group eventually grew to eight, sharing many wonderful times.
As coursework intensified in junior high and high school, I struggled more. I observed peers who could coast through classes and still get average grades, while I had to work exceptionally hard. I require more time for memorization, note-taking, and writing. Fortunately, Walnut High School accommodated me by allowing extended time for tests in a separate setting. I never needed to be placed in special education classes.
During my sophomore year, I wrote a personal article for the school newspaper. This led to classmates asking about my disability and commending my bravery for undergoing 15 corrective surgeries. I never encountered mean-spirited comments, and it felt rewarding to help others understand me better.