- In 2022, while studying to become a teacher, Nicole Freer took on work as a support worker for people living with a disability with Sylvanvale
- Nicole started to work with participant, James, who was non-speaking and quadriplegic following an accident
- Nicole then found that James was funny, cheeky and social
- Working with James taught Nicole a lot, and she realised that James could teach her students a thing or two!
- Nicole Freer and James share their story below….
Opening the door to the stunning flat, I felt a surge of excitement.
It was 2022, and I had just started working with a new care participant, James, 50.
I was studying to become a teacher and disability care was a rewarding way to make a living on the side.
James was non-speaking and quadriplegic following an accident in 1995 when he was 22 years old.
He required an electric wheelchair to get around but was able to live in a Sylvanvale independent-living apartment in Woolooware Bay, NSW.
His home was designed for people with disabilities who want to live on their own, and provided access to 24/7 support.
I met with James four times a week to help him with basic tasks like eating, using the bathroom, and showering.
But I soon discovered that James was cheeky, social and fun.
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“What trouble are we getting into today?”I called out as I stepped inside his apartment.
Before I could see James, I heard his laughter.
He loved going bargain hunting and was the biggest Cronulla Sharks supporter I’d ever met.
The more timeI spent with James,the more my perspective grew.
He’s like anyone else, I realised.
Just more of a larrikin.
We’d regularly head out to run errands, and he was always engaging with people in his own way.
One day at the train station, a mum and her young son smiled at him. James wheeled over with a grin and gestured for me to join him.
“This is James,” I told them. “We’re going shopping today. He’s a real penny-pincher, so we might take a while to choose something!”
James erupted in laughter at my teasing.
The little boy’s eyes lit up.
“Can he understand you?” the boy asked.
“He can understand everything,” I replied. “He just communicates differently.”
I explained that James kicked his left leg up for yes, and shook his head for no.
“He’s actually quite chatty,” I added with a smile.
“That’s so cool!” the boy said, grinning at James.
James always encouraged people to ask questions.
It helped them see him for more than his disability.
I continued to help James for a year while I finished my degree.
But in late 2023, after graduation, I picked up casual teaching work at Cronulla High School and my shifts with him dropped back to once a week.
Although I loved working with the kids, I found myself missing quality time with my mate.
I did my best to keep James updated on my new career, and his other support workers would send me his updates in return.
Some nights, I even went round to his for dinner.
“You’re like a brother to me,” I told him one evening, and he nodded in agreement.
By 2025, I was teaching full-time, but James andI still kept in touch.
That June, I began a geography unit with my Year 8 students called Place and Liveability.
It focused on global infrastructure and how different types of people live.
For ages, I’d been wanting to expose my students to the world of people living with disabilities.
As I began lesson planning for the unit, James popped into my mind.
On my next visit with him, I proposed an idea.
“I want my Year 8 students to meet you,” I said. “They could learn from your experiences.”
A smile spread across his face. He kicked his leg eagerly – a clear yes.
With James on board, I explained the plan to my class. I told them James was just like any other bloke, but communicated differently and used a wheelchair.
“If we’ve never met someone non-speaking before, how do we ask questions?” one student asked.
“Ask yes or no questions and be patient,” I explained. “I promise, you’ll understand him.”
Next lesson, James arrived at the school.
The students watched as he wheeled into the library where we were waiting.
I’d given them the task of finding a home that would suit someone like James.
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One by one, they began asking him questions about his lifestyle. “If a home you were looking at had one step, would that work for you?” one boy asked.
James shook his head no.
The student eagerly scribbled down his answer.
“I found an open-plan place with an elevator,” one of the girls asked. “Do you think that type of place would be good?”
James kicked his leg and smiled.
The questions continued, and once the students grew comfortable, the fun began.
“Are you sad the Dragons beat the Sharks?” one boy teased.
James burst out laughing.
He even played a game of Connect Four with some of the students and won!
Finally, the time came for James to leave.
After waving goodbye, the students began chatting excitedly.
Meeting someone whose lived experience matched the assessment task helped them truly connect withthe subject.
Soon after, I receiveda letter from one of my students’ mums.
Meeting James has made my son so much more empathetic and open, she wrote.
Now he wants to make the world a more accommodating place.
Reading her words brought tears to my eyes.
I am so grateful to have a mate like James, and I’m thrilled that he’s now inspiring my students, too.
They often tell me about bumping into him at the shops or at NRL games and having a chat.
James is proof that being different doesn’t mean you can’t live a life of impact.
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