There comes a moment when you realize that standard, one-size-fits-all programs simply aren't built to accommodate everyone’s unique potential. After Vocational Rehab couldn't provide the specialized, mentored environment Matt needed, we refused to surrender to stagnation. We took matters into our own hands, picked up the scythe of progress, and cleared a space where he could thrive—another firsthand example of blazing our own trail through the obstacles posed by his impairments. That path led directly to a meaningful grassroots partnership, brought to us by his sister, Megan.

Megan had recently landed a job with the University of New Hampshire (UNH) to design STEM projects for K–12 classrooms. As part of her role, she managed mentors and volunteers—and she was thrilled to invite Matt to join their Discovery Program, an interactive initiative designed to immerse students in science, technology, engineering, and math. Not only was he welcomed, but the college organizer fully understood his situation and was eager to support his success.

Beginning April 7, 2022, we made the four-hour round trip to UNH three weeks in a row for his weekly docent workshops. The commute was well worth it to watch him mingle with other volunteers, actively contribute to group discussions, and learn alongside peers on an even playing field. With that training in hand, he agreed to develop and lead a four-day summer camp class for third through fifth graders centered around LittleBits electronic building kits later that July.

The months in between were occupied with virtual planning sessions with the workshop coordinator. It didn't take long for a few key issues to surface. Chief among them was Matt’s reluctance to prepare in advance—even with strict guidelines for outline structures and fixed submission deadlines. Rather than letting things be, I poked, prodded, and badgered him to meet their expectations—creating unnecessary stress for both of us, even if the four completed lessons were ultimately a source of pride.

Beyond preparation, practicing the actual content proved far more challenging for Matt than delivering a standard college lecture. He struggled to summarize salient points without veering off on tangents, often launching into topics mid-stream and leaving listeners scrambling to get their bearings. Even when the director asked him to follow the required outline, Matt resisted—sticking firmly to his preferred routine despite our repeated attempts to explain the rationale. Ultimately, the team brought it all together, culminating in a finished curriculum they could all be proud of.

Two neighborhood children served as willing guinea pigs for Matt’s first dry run. They were extraordinarily patient despite his fumbling explanations of the LittleBits components—and his disjointed instructions for building an LED light and a tickle machine. Standing on the sidelines, I anxiously bit my tongue. In the end, the kids had fun—and seeing their smiles gave Matt a vital boost of confidence.

The class material was divided between Matt and an assistant—a well-meaning, motherly-type person who unintentionally usurped his role partway through. On day one, Matt started out like gangbusters and, to my surprise, actually stuck to the class outline. Then the students ran into a major glitch. Once the lesson ground to a halt, I gently nudged Matt and the students to swap out components—motors, batteries, and connections—which solved the problem. The following day was different; Matt was more passive, noticeably pausing to gather his thoughts. His assistant swiftly stepped in to keep things moving—and took over the rest of the morning. Watching from the back of the room, I wanted to leap up and tell her to stand down and give Matt a chance. It broke my heart to see how quickly things unraveled, a stark reminder that few people truly know how to compassionately empower individuals with disabilities—balancing guidance with the space to let them lead.

Afterward, Matt acknowledged that he shouldn’t have let her take over and vowed to hold his ground next time—a crucial milestone in his self-advocacy. Later, I explained the situation to the assistant, who was deeply apologetic and reassured us she would let Matt teach at his own pace. The remaining days went smoothly, filled with creative, engaged children who brought Matt immense joy.

To my dismay, a similar oversight unfolded during the final wrap-up. The organizer gathered the children, parents, and show-and-tell projects into a tight circle, excitedly highlighting the students’ accomplishments—unintentionally stealing the spotlight Matt had worked so hard to earn. Another unconscious slight that pierced my heart. As the crowd dispersed, she sheepishly approached Matt and offered a quiet apology for taking over his moment—to which Matt simply waved it off with a reassuring smile.

Despite those bumps in the road, Matt viewed the overall experience as a resounding success, giving it an enthusiastic thumbs-up and high praise. Stepping up to the podium reaffirmed his role as an educator, helped him navigate subtle friction points, boosted his confidence, and revitalized his momentum. He was ready for the next challenge, no matter where the road might lead.

Despite the bumps in the road, Matt viewed the overall experience as a resounding success, giving it an enthusiastic thumbs-up and high praise. Navigating subtle friction points, along with accolades from the children and grateful parents, boosted his confidence. The entire experience reaffirmed his role as an educator and revitalized his momentum. He was ready for the next challenge, wherever the road might lead.

© 2026, Sarah Watkins