Matt Schmidt talks to Kathy Kittredge’s fourth grade class. (Photo by Julie Moberly)

Matt Schmidt was born with cerebral palsy. He has never known the pleasure of running with unbridled freedom, or the fun of a spontaneous baseball game after school. Further, he has endured three major surgeries over the course of his 14 years, all designed to lengthen, strengthen, and fortify the legs that he hopes will soon be able to carry him without aid. For most, this history would be daunting, an all-consuming challenge that would leave little room for anything other than coping with the immediacies of the disability.

But that wouldn’t be his style.

Schmidt, an incoming freshman at Bromfield, was diagnosed with CP at the age of 1. Sharon Schmidt and her husband Greg, the pastor at the Congregational Church, first noticed that their son was slow to develop the gross-motor skills that other infants his age already seemed to have, and after a series of visits to specialists, came home with a diagnosis of cerebral palsy in 1995. The diagnosis meant realizing that their son would always have difficulty with body movement and posture and that the road ahead would always be filled with new challenges.

The future, as the young family once envisioned it, underwent a radical transformation.

Most people don’t know a lot about cerebral palsy, its origin, or wide range of symptoms. To educate her fourth-grade class about CP and the implications for someone who has it, Harvard Elementary School teacher Kathy Kittredge first asked Schmidt to share his experience five years ago. He has made the presentation for the entire grade every year since, and he spoke to this year’s curious and highly engaged class during the last week of school.

Wheelchair-bound, long limbs encased in ankle-foot orthoses, Schmidt’s outgoing personality and confidence belie the seeming frailty of his 6-foot, 1-inch frame. Cerebral palsy is a cluster of symptoms caused by a lack of oxygen before, during, or shortly after birth, he said, and there is a wide range of disability along the CP spectrum. He considers himself fortunate, having never suffered the paralysis that accounts for the fact that one-third of all children with CP cannot walk. Nor does he suffer any of the symptoms of mental retardation that can also accompany the diagnosis, a fact made bracingly clear by the quickness of his wit and the depth of his insight into the experience of disability.

While he has never known anything different, Schmidt recognizes that the road he travels is not an easy one. Activities as ordinary as walking at a normal pace, getting in the shower, and even sitting on the floor are difficult. Picking something up that he has dropped is nearly impossible, he said, and one of the few times he needs to request help. Otherwise, Schmidt would prefer to struggle through a task—or even a fall—by himself. And while most people have the impulse to help him, he said, it’s really better if they hold back.

“There are different ways to help people with CP,” Schmidt said, “And the best way for someone to help is: don’t! I’m capable of doing most things on my own.”

The openness with which Schmidt described his experience prompted a flurry of questions from the floor. Some of the fourth-graders were curious about the wheelchair he sat in, or the mechanics of the special skis he uses. Others focused on the social aspects of CP, and whether his disability ever makes him feel left out of the mainstream. Schmidt admitted that he does occasionally feel left out, particularly when it comes to sports, but he made it clear that his true interests lie in computer programming and developing his own website. While he might wish he did not have to watch from the sidelines sometimes, he said, “I’m OK with it.”

That spunk carried Schmidt through his recent surgery at Yale New Haven Hospital, a nine-and-a-half hour operation to lengthen his hamstrings, lower his kneecaps, straighten his right tibia and left femur, and fuse both ankles.

“It was a lot of stuff in one fell swoop,” his mother said. The first two weeks of recovery were tortuous, according to both Schmidt and his mother. Two months later he is still recovering, although Schmidt points out that he is achieving significant milestones every week. He had a goal of walking across the stage to receive his certificate at the eighth-grade graduation ceremony, which he did, he said in a follow-up interview after the end of school. Actually, he said, he made the trek several times, to pick up the certificate as well as a number of academic awards.

“That felt pretty good. I was able to show everyone that I was making progress.”

Creating a sense of independence in a child with cerebral palsy is not an easy road, Sharon Schmidt said later. Learning when to be hands-off and let Matt struggle with something has been the hardest part of being the parent of a child with cerebral palsy. Younger brother Jonathan also wants to help him when the going gets tough. In fact, everyone in the family has had to learn when to help Matt navigate an environment built largely for the able-bodied, and when to step back.

“It has been quite a journey,” Sharon Schmidt said. “You’re always learning.”