Written by Courtney Wilkin
If you’re an amputee, you’re familiar. The staring, the double takes, the kids who ask questions, the parents who shush them. I’m going to be real here. Curiosity did NOT kill the cat. Stifling curiosity might, though.
Parents: No More Shushing
For the parents who may not be familiar with prosthetic devices: you’ve probably been there. You’re in the grocery store. You see someone with a prosthesis. Your child looks over and says, “Look at that!” Your first reaction is to turn bright red and exclaim, “Shhh! Don’t stare!”
I get it. We were taught to do this. For a long time, differences weren’t something we talked about. They were something we were expected to politely ignore. We learned that pointing out someone’s disability was rude, so we taught our kids to look away. But there’s a difference between teaching a child not to stare and teaching them they shouldn’t be curious.
Kids are inquisitive. As humans, we notice things that are different, and prosthetics and limb differences are not an exception to this rule. When kids ask questions, they are genuinely trying to learn about why and how we are different. It’s an opportunity for growth, learning, acceptance, and inclusion. Seize the opportunity.
Instead of shushing them, answer them. You don’t have to do it secretively, either. You can explain that the person has a prosthesis and that it helps them walk. If they ask why someone has a prosthetic leg, you can simply explain that some people lose a limb because of an accident or illness, and some people are born without one. Everyone’s body is different. 
What matters most is what you teach your child about that difference. Teach them that different isn’t scary. Teach them that someone else’s body isn’t something to make fun of. Teach them that it’s okay to notice differences, but it’s not okay to stare, point, or make someone feel like they’re on display. Most importantly, teach them that curiosity doesn’t have to be shut down. It can be answered with kindness and respect.
I Know This Because I Used to be a First-Grade Teacher
Before my work in the orthotics and prosthetics industry, I was a first-grade teacher. Every year, on the first day of school, I’d watch, as one by one, the students would notice. They’d quietly stare at my ankle as they sat on the carpet. They’d see something wasn’t quite right and tap the person next to them and point at it like, “Check that out…” Sometimes they’d even say, “What’s wrong with your foot?”
At some point during the day, I’d sit them all down. I’d give them the spiel.
“I was in a bad car accident when I was a teenager, and my legs were hurt really bad. The doctors tried to help my leg heal, but my right one was hurt too bad and would never get better. So, they did a big surgery to amputate my leg…which basically means they took my real leg off, and they gave me a fake one to walk on. Pretty cool, right? I am still alive AND I can walk around just like all of you.”
Eventually, someone would ask me to take off my prosthesis, so I would. One year a student asked me if it would be bloody. I think they truly expected it to be like a horror movie, just chopped off with the bones sticking out all willy-nilly. One time, a student told me it looked like a giant thumb. That’s a pretty great comparison. From that point forward, I’d use that to ease a kid’s worries about what it looks like.
Before taking my prosthesis off, I’d teach them about appropriate versus inappropriate reactions. I’m human, this is my body, and saying things like “gross,” “creepy,” or “disgusting” would hurt my feelings. I’d tell them, “I understand this is different and maybe a little scary at first. If you want to close your eyes or turn around, that’s okay. You don’t have to look if you don’t want to.” Often, the kids who’d close their eyes would eventually take a peek anyway.
Once they got past the initial curiosity, though, their imaginations really took over. Some parents would message me after school and say, “My kid says their teacher is a transformer. What are they talking about?” I’d just laugh and say, “Well, I showed them my prosthesis today…”
It was always very important to me to show students that we all use different tools and resources to live our lives. My prosthesis isn’t something to laugh at or stare at; it’s just a small part of who I am. Once they understood that, some of them even thought it was…(gasp!) cool.
Curiosity is an Opportunity
I understand we’re not all teachers with amputations and a classroom full of students. But as amputees, we still have many opportunities to create healthy learning experiences for kids.
It’s pretty straightforward. Share what you’re comfortable sharing. If you catch a child staring, you could invite them to ask a question, or you could make a lighthearted comment:
“Bet you didn’t know I’m a transformer, did you?”
“Pretty cool I can walk around on this thing, huh?”
Or maybe it’s a day that you just don’t have it in you to say anything at all. A smile and passing by is perfectly acceptable too.
When I’m with my friends and their kids (or my kids & their friends!), I love to teach them about all my different legs. Just like you can’t play basketball with a baseball, I can’t run with my walking leg. Analogies like that are easy to understand. I tell them about robotic prostheses that run on a battery and can connect to a phone for different movements, just like using a phone to adjust the volume on earbuds for louder or quieter sound. Kids are really good at understanding this stuff when you explain it in terms they already know.
You don’t have to be an amputee to have these conversations. Parents can answer age-appropriate questions without making the person feel like they’re on display. It’s okay to explain that people use different tools and devices to help them live and move.
Curiosity has Boundaries
There is one response I would leave out: “Why don’t you go ask them about it?”
For me, this is fine. I lived through my trauma, I’m past it. I’m good. I’m comfortable explaining my story to kids. I’ll happily answer the questions. But you never know where someone is on their journey. Maybe they are newly amputated. Maybe talking about it or answering questions about prosthetics is a trigger and could ruin their day. Maybe they are a war veteran and it takes them to a place in time they don’t want to be. Maybe they simply don’t feel like explaining their body to a stranger.
The only time I’d recommend telling your kid to ask about it would be if you know the person and you know they’re okay with the conversation. If it’s a stranger, I don’t recommend going there.
Don’t Use Your Child’s Curiosity to Satisfy Your Own
“My child is wondering about your leg. What happened?”
Most of the time, this is a no. I’d imagine some people are okay with it, but as a general rule, just don’t. This screams, “I want to know what happened so I’m going to use my kid’s curiosity to find out.”
Quite frankly, how we got into our situation is moot. The important thing is, we are standing in front of you, we look a little different, and that’s an okay thing to notice.
Explaining that some people lose limbs in accidents, illness, or are simply born that way is 100% appropriate. Yes, even in front of the amputee, because, get this: these things are not a secret to us. It’s our life.
However, this is not an invitation to stop and stare. Keep moving, keep doing what you were doing, and have the conversation with your child as if you passed by any other person.
But What About an Adult’s Curiosity?
As a grown adult, it’s normal for our brains to take a moment to process something that is different. A “double take,” if you will. Quickly glancing at a person again because your brain is processing new information. Totally fine.
However, as a grown adult, it is NOT okay to glue your eyes to a person’s device, blatantly staring as they go by.
If you’re staring and saying nothing, that’s annoying. If you’re staring and follow up with a “whoa, that’s pretty sweet,” or some sort of compliment on how impressed you are with how good they are doing, it’s empowering. Learning to walk on a prosthetic is hard work. Sometimes, it’s nice to be recognized.
My best advice for all adults: please. Do not come to me while I’m getting my groceries and say, “Do you mind me asking how you lost your leg?” Now you’ve put me in the position of either telling a stranger about a very personal part of my life or awkwardly saying, “I’d rather not talk about it.” Listen, I’m just trying to buy some bananas.
Curiosity Did Not Kill The Cat
I’m not saying kids should be encouraged to stare or point, and I’m definitely not saying every amputee wants to answer questions. I am also not claiming that every person with a limb difference feels the way I do.
I’m saying we can teach kids that noticing a difference isn’t bad. We can teach them that different isn’t scary. We can answer their questions honestly and appropriately while also teaching them that being curious doesn’t mean they’re entitled to someone else’s personal story.
Curiosity isn’t the problem. It’s what we teach children to do with curiosity that matters.
So parents, please: no more shushing.