A Smile that Becomes Inclusion – An Example from Cambodia to Change the World

“Our convinction here is that they have one disability, but hundred potentials.” — Dr Sothun Nop, Director Marist Solidarity Cambodia

UNICEF reminds us that almost 240 million children around the world live with disabilities. But as long as we stay with data, we risk forgetting that behind every number there is a face, a story, a life asking for only one thing: the right to have the same opportunities as others. 

Many do not attend school, do not receive adequate care, and are not heard. And this exclusion is even deeper in those countries where even the most basic rights are not guaranteed, not even for children without disabilities. In Cambodia, especially in rural areas, the right to a safe home, access to clean water, health services, or adequate transportation is still far from being guaranteed. 

A child born with a disability therefore experiences double exclusion: the one shared by all children growing up in vulnerable contexts, and the one specifically linked to disability. In addition, in some rural areas of Cambodia, popular beliefs persist according to which a disability at birth would be linked to “negative karma” or family faults. These superstitious interpretations generate stigma and, in the most extreme cases, episodes of abandonment. It is a painful reality that makes it even more urgent to recognize the value and dignity of every child. 

And yet, when inclusion becomes real — not theory, but daily practice — something deeply transformative happens

LaValla School: where disability becomes possibility

This is what we saw in Cambodia, at LaValla School, a project supported by FMSI and funded by Misean Cara and Maristen. 

A place born thanks to the intuition of Brother Terry Heinrich, who after years as a principal in Australia identified in Cambodia “the group with the most urgent need”: children with disabilities in rural areas. Since then, LaValla School has become a bridge: not a place of assistance, but a space where girls and boys become protagonists and begin to look at themselves — and be looked at — with new eyes. Here they play, receive physiotherapy, develop skills, learn English, use computers, create art and music. And above all, they are recognized for who they are: children with talents, ideas, desires, voices, decisions. 

The motto that guides the school — “one disability, one hundred potentials” — is not just a phrase. The stories prove it, both those of the students and those of the teachers, all former students with disabilities, who make the school a truly inclusive and equal environment.

When basic rights are missing, inclusion becomes transformative

During our visit, we met some families of the students. They live in extremely harsh conditions: the right to a safe home, access to clean water, and safe transportation are daily challenges. Houses built on marshland, a few brick walls with tin roofs, in direct contact with stagnant water and therefore with a very high risk of malaria. The only way to see clean water is in advertisements for bottled water along the main roads. 

Despite everything, what struck me was the care, kindness and respect of the people. Like the uncle of a child we met: he lives in a house in direct contact with the swamp water, yet he combed his hair, put on a clean, ironed shirt and welcomed us with a smile. He presented himself completely: in his posture, in the way he held his head high. It was one of those moments that stay with you. 

Another example of strength and courage comes to mind: the grandmother of a student who, after the grandson’s illness, we went to pick up in the countryside to bring him back to school. To come and meet us, the woman walked through tens of meters of muddy water, wearing flip-flops, in an area where encountering snakes on the path is not uncommon. She told us that to buy her grandson’s medicine she had had to borrow 90 dollars from relatives and neighbors — an enormous amount for the local reality. Her calm and spontaneous smile asked for nothing, but said everything. From people like her, one learns more than one could ever give.

The project results speak for themselves: 

• 136 students completed the school year 
• 130 girls and boys participated in the annual camp, experiencing creativity, collaboration, leadership 
• 48 assistive devices facilitated movement and participation
• Therapies improved autonomy, health and confidence.

But numbers are not enough to tell what really happens: children who speak up, tell their story to local authorities, demand rights, lead concrete changes. When rights are guaranteed to those who are usually excluded, the whole community changes.

The Marist International Solidarity Foundation supports LaValla School because here children are not “protected”: they study to change the world. 

December 3rd, International Day of Persons with Disabilities, is not a commemoration, but an invitation to remember that education is not a favor, but a right. 

And when this right is respected, girls and boys — all of them — become capable of opening new paths. In Cambodia we have seen it and, honestly, it has changed us a little too. 

“Let’s keep the dream alive.” 

— Brother Bryan Kinsella, Marist Brother at LaValla School