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'I don’t see myself as being so different'

USD freshman says he’s just a student, not an inspiration

By NICK WOLTMAN

VOLANTE ASST NEWS EDITOR

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Published: Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Updated: Wednesday, April 29, 2009

zac vanbeek

John Larson, The Volante 2009

Freshman Zac VanBeek works on an assignment in his dorm room. VanBeek uses his feet to write, send text messages, eat and drive a car. His friends at USD have made his experience here a positive transition into college life.

zac vanbeek

John Larson, The Volante 2009

Freshman Zac VanBeek uses his student ID to access Mickelson Hall, where he lives.

zac vanbeek

John Larson, The Volante 2009

Freshman Zac VanBeek takes a break from studying by surfing the Internet in his dorm room.

Freshman Zac VanBeek eats his lunch with a fork in the Commons. He cuts his waffle fries in half before stabbing them and lifting them to his mouth. He skewers the lump of chicken on his plate and examines it before deciding not to eat it. And he does all of this using only his feet.

VanBeek was born without arms; a fact that he hardly seems to notice.

He uses his toes to type, text and brush his teeth as nimbly as any other person would use their fingers.

When freshman Becca Linneweber returns to the table with his Dr. Pepper, VanBeek bites down on the rim of the glass and tips his head back to take a drink.

Linneweber and her roommate, freshman Starla Gruenwald, sit and eat with VanBeek as his peculiar table manners attract the attention of nearby students.

“Some people try too hard not to notice,” he said.

Although he has become accustomed to being stared at, VanBeek wasn’t always aware that his condition set him apart.

“I don’t think I realized that I was different than anyone else until maybe fourth grade,” VanBeek said. “I mean, I always knew it, but it didn’t really hit me.”

Although VanBeek is completely at ease with the fact that he is without arms, other people seem to have a hard time wrapping their minds around it. Some even gush about what an inspiration he is.

“It’s funny when people tell me I’m inspiring,” VanBeek said. “People I don’t even know will say that to me. I don’t see myself as being so different or as being inspiring.”

The idea that people are inspired by him just because he has no arms makes VanBeek uncomfortable. He can’t understand why something so ordinary to him is such a novelty to other people.

When he came to USD in the fall, VanBeek says he had difficulty meeting people as a result of his condition.

“At the beginning of the year people avoided talking to me,” VanBeek said. “I think they didn’t know how to react.”

But as time went on, people began to realize that he was really no different than them. Gruenwald and Linneweber never had any trouble with this. He describes the girls as his best friends. Mostly, he says, because they don’t ask him all kinds of questions about what it’s like not having arms.

Most of the time, they say they don’t even notice. In fact, they sometimes try to hand him things or high-five him without thinking, resulting in a puzzled look and an awkward silence.

Once they’ve finished eating, the three friends stand up to leave the Commons. Without a word, Linneweber picks up VanBeek’s plate and carries it to the conveyer belt that will take it to the kitchen. This is one of the few times VanBeek has to enlist the help of his friends to get by.

Even his occasional dependence on other people doesn’t make him feel helpless.
Although VanBeek was never offered any medical explanation as to why he was born without arms, he doesn’t seem to need one.

“I don’t know that an explanation would make anything any different,” VanBeek said.
In some ways, VanBeek considers himself lucky. His second cousin lost his arms in a tractor accident. VanBeek says he feels fortunate that he has been without arms since birth, rather than losing them later in life. He added that since he never knew what it was like to have arms, he can’t miss them.

After leaving the Commons, VanBeek heads back up to his floor, followed by Linneweber and Gruenwald. At the door to Mickelson Hall, VanBeek slides his foot out of his shoe. Gripping his student I.D. between his toes, he swipes it in the card reader. In one motion, he pulls the door open with the same foot and steps through the threshold.

“It’s not a constant struggle,” VanBeek says of living without arms. “I’d say it’s just more of an annoyance than anything.”

Reach reporter Nick Woltman at Nick.Woltman@usd.edu.
 

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