THE FACE OF HOPE
Teaching kids that giving
up is not an option
Written by SHARON ALMIRALL
Photography by STEVE GROER
A kid came up to me the other day and asked me
if I wore a diaper. That’s how comfortable the
students are with me,” says Ryan McLean,
a young woman who is confined to a
wheelchair after a car crash left her permanently paralyzed.
This summer, McLean travels to Delhi, India, where she has
been approved for stem cell treatments. Doctors hope that by
injecting embryonic stem cells into her spine over the course
of two months, nerves and muscles in paralyzed areas of her
27-year-old body will regenerate.
“Nine out of 10 times they (the high school students) get
interested and have questions about my being in a wheelchair.
It’s really intriguing to them in a lot of ways. There were
50 kids about to turn 16 and about to take their driver’s education
class. They were curious about me and what had happened
to me. The first questions are usually the ones about
showering and getting dressed. Then they’ll ask what kind of
music do you like and that sort of thing,” she says.
McLean, a teacher at Cherry Creek High School, is remarkable
in so many ways. Probably the most striking aspect of
her personality is her ability to reach students through her
unique teaching style. “Early on, I realized it was my job to
help people become comfortable. If I can show people it is OK
to ask questions, it opens the door for them,” she says.
Opening the door for her students is a gift she brings to teaching.
In turn, students give back to her, such as the studentwho created a fund-raiser for McLean, held this Spring. The
student, whom McClean coaches in swimming, lined up
singers and dancers and even had a silent auction as part of
the event.
The fund-raiser was important to McLean, who needs
$40,000 to cover the cost of the two months of treatment.
She acknowledges that the fund-raising efforts, combined
with the “public stuff,” is a “test of my character.” As if
McLean needs to pass such a test. As she describes in a
blog, “In 1997, my snowglobe of a life was picked up,
shaken violently, and set back down. The car accident was
a strange twist of fate that took me from a beautifully naïve
teenage athlete to something more unknown and vague. I
no longer looked to the future, because I could no longer
see what would be foretold. My back was broken, leaving
my spinal cord damaged to an irreversible level. Although
not as devastatingly permanent, injuries ranging from road
rash, to collapsed lungs, to broken femurs took my attention
away from what I had yet to face, my wheelchairbound
future.”
The challenges didn’t stop McLean. In fact, she yearned to
reach certain goals. She finished high school and pushed to
be a normal college student who didn’t require special help.
She strived to become independent, to work, to swim. While
at college, she discovered coaching and learned it was a way
to give back to students. She earned a master’s degree in
education and has been teaching for three years.
Students are inspired by her openness. She has discussed
the stem cell treatment with them. She doesn’t know
whether the treatments will be successful. “I think this is a
work in progress, and if I can become a force here, that’s
great. For a lot of [other] diseases, it could become a cure as
much as it could for spinal cord injuries,” she explains.
From her experience, McClean says she has learned a
lot about the essential goodness of people. “Being in a
wheelchair is a very funny life. If someone opens a door for
you, it makes that person feel good. I was stubborn at first
and didn’t want to be that person [needing help], but people
want to help each other. A lot of times, they just want
to be proud of me,” she says.
In her blog, she writes, “As I sit here in my office at 4:48
p.m. awaiting my junior varsity girls’ practice and rehashing
the day, I notice and absorb both visible love and intangible
love: The colored pictures and notes from my students that I
have strategically placed on my wall. The four kids who just
left my office after being here for an hour. One who wants to
make up a quiz. One who needs to ask about her final review.
One who hopes for chemistry help, although I am not her
teacher, and I don’t teach chemistry. One to chat about her
school day and what she has finally decided for the 84th time
to be when she grows up. It has been a good day. The combination
of all these things shows me that I have the power
to changes lives, no matter where I sit.”
McLean remembers vividly the events on the day of the
accident: “After leaving a school-sanctioned dance, I piled
into a car with my friends and headed off to the bowling alley.
We never made it there. The driver of the car lost control on
the highway. The car flipped through the air across the median
and collided with oncoming traffic, and I was projected out
of the car through the side window. After arriving at the hospital,
I endured over 20 hours of surgery before being placed
in the intensive care unit, where I would stay for the next
month.” She would be moved to another unit for three
weeks, then to Craig Rehabilitation for three months. She
was paralyzed from the bottom of her rib cage down.
Eleven years in a wheelchair have given McLean a unique
perspective. “I see things a lot clearer than I would have otherwise.
I see all these things I would have taken for granted.
Something inside me tells me I wouldn’t have come this far.
The hospital taught me to be very patient,” she says.
