Hi, I’m Luke. I’m in second grade, and I roll through the school hallways faster than most kids can walk. (Well… except on Fridays. My wheelchair battery is always tired on Fridays. Kind of like me.)
I have muscular dystrophy, which means my muscles get tired faster than other kids’. But that doesn’t stop me from being curious, or from cracking jokes, or from teaming up with my friends for board games at recess. I like history — especially stories about inventors and explorers — and I like adaptive sports because I can go fast and be part of a team.
When I get to school each day, my classroom can make things easier… or way harder than it needs to be.
So, here’s what it looks like through my eyes.
MEET MY FRIENDS
My wheelchair isn’t huge, but some classrooms make it feel like a monster truck.
The rooms I feel best in have big, clear pathways — not just to the door, but between tables, bookshelves, and project areas. When I can roll right into a space without zigzagging, reversing, or asking someone to scoot their chair, it makes me feel independent.
Independence is important to me. I don’t want people hovering unless I ask for help.
That’s why tables with open frames are awesome. I can slide right up to them without my wheels hitting anything underneath. And when a table has casters, my teacher can move it easily without causing a big scene about “making room for Luke.”
It just feels normal.
And that’s the point.
Some days I have more energy than others. Some days I need to sit lower to rest my arms. Some days I like to raise my desk to see my screen better.
An ADA-compliant adjustable desk lets me do all of that.
No squeezing my legs.
No bumping my knees.
No leaning over because the desk is too high.
Plus, the book box right on the desk means I don’t have to roll across the room for something small like a marker or a worksheet. Those little trips use up energy fast, and I want to save my strength for the fun stuff — like group projects or P.E.
Most of the time, I stay in my wheelchair. It’s comfortable and gives me the support I need. But sometimes — like during reading time or group discussions — I want to sit somewhere else, somewhere softer, somewhere that makes me feel like just another kid hanging out.
The linear lounge seat is perfect for that. It’s soft but has enough support that transferring from my wheelchair feels safe. My friends can sit with me, and we all fit at the same level. No one looks down at me. No one leans awkwardly to hear me.
We’re a team.
Because that’s what I like most — being part of things.
Even though I’m pretty social, I still need quiet sometimes — especially when lots of noise makes my body tired faster.
I like having sensory-friendly spaces in the room:
textured panels I can run my fingers across
soft lighting
fidget bins
quieter nooks where I can work when I need a break from the busy parts of the classroom
Having choices — a table, a tech station, a quiet nook — isn’t just about moods. It’s about control. When I get to pick where my body feels best, my brain works better too.
You know those tall classroom cubbies? The ones with the high shelves? Yeah… I don’t use those.
My teacher gave me mobile storage that stays low and rolls easily, so my things are always close enough for me to reach without stretching or asking.
Being able to get my own supplies might seem small, but to me it feels big. It feels like I can do things on my own — like everyone else.
The coolest thing about accessible furniture is that it doesn’t just help me — it helps everyone.
When the furniture rolls, everyone can rearrange for group projects.
When the aisles are big, everyone moves safely.
When desks adjust, everyone finds a comfortable height.
When sensory tools are available, everyone has a calmer day.
My classroom isn’t “the wheelchair kid’s classroom.”
It’s a classroom where every kid — including me — gets to learn, move, talk, laugh, and be part of the group.
That’s what I want most.
To be included.
To be independent.
To be myself.
This is what my learning space looks like through my eyes.