Mikey was not the average student any school would welcome easily. He had no arms, no legs, and lived his life seated in a plastic bucket for safety and mobility. Teachers were overwhelmed. The school division wanted him removed. His verbal outbursts were disruptive. His physical condition was beyond their comprehension. But where others saw hopelessness, Dick saw something entirely different. He saw a boy protecting himself the only way he knew how—through his voice. Loud, angry, defensive, and unfiltered—but still a voice with potential.

The Problem Was Never Mikey’s Body—It Was Everyone Else’s Thinking

Dick knew that physical impairment wasn’t the same as inability. Mikey’s condition shocked people. His appearance made them uncomfortable. But none of that defined who he was inside. His outbursts weren’t rebellion—they were shields. They pushed people away before they could reject him first. What Mikey needed wasn’t silence, or distance, or pity. He needed someone to believe that he had value. Dick, along with his colleague Ginger, refused to define Mikey by what he lacked. They focused instead on what he still had: a sharp mind, a voice, and the will to be heard.

Giving Him A Switch Wasn’t About The Radio—It Was About Dignity

Ginger used her knowledge to build a custom mouth switch, fitted with a chest harness. Mikey could control the switch by biting down. That simple action allowed him to turn on a radio—by himself. Dick understood that this wasn’t just about technology. It was about giving Mikey something he never had before: control. Even that one act, deciding when to turn on a song, was enough to tell Mikey his life could change. No more sitting passively. No more depending on someone else for everything. This was step one.

The Educational Plan Didn’t Begin With The System—It Began With Belief

Dick and Ginger created real goals tailored specifically to Mikey. They didn’t just hand over equipment. They thought deeply about an education program that would matter. They included objectives like controlling a switch, learning emotional regulation, and eventually, exploring eye gaze technology that might even allow Mikey to play music. This wasn’t fantasy. It was structured, step-by-step, and focused. The Due Process Hearing turned around because someone finally walked in and said, “This boy can learn.”

People Couldn’t See Past The Bucket—Until Someone Did

In The Boy In A Bucket, David Aldrich shows that the limitations we place on others often say more about us than them. Mikey was never the tragedy—he was the opportunity we nearly missed. It took one man to look past the bucket and see the boy. That changed everything.