Tonight Mom and Truett and I were eating Pizza from Hungry Howies simply because Truett and I had been to Gainesville all day long and my wonderful husband said, "Don't cook. Just order pizza."
So I did.
But, while we were chowing down on our pizza tonight, Truett dropped a napkin on the floor, and immediately I thought, "Pick that up." (Ah, ha! There's still the teacher in me!)
So I said to Truett, "Pick that up."
But Truett just laughed.
And that's when I felt a hot flash.
After a few seconds, I began laughing hysterically because it reminded me of 1975 when I was teaching at Niblack Elementary School in Lake City. . . way before the Disability Act was enacted by Congress.
That's true. I was teaching sixth grade and I had a boy in my homeroom class. This boy had muscular dystrophy and was in a wheelchair most of the day; however, he wasn't totally limited to it.
No. This child was mainly spoiled rotten by his divorced mother! His mother told me so ; and furthermore, I was not to put up with any of his crap. I was to treat him like any other student.
Well, for nine/tenths of the year, I catered to this wheel-chair-bound middle-schooler. (That, alone, should give you a few clues about the difficulity I had as a teacher).
Now, mind you, this child's mother told me, "I understand you are the best. Don't take any shit from my son! Treat him like he's a normal child."
So, I did.
Nope. I tried.
Really, I did. But, in the back of my mind, I always thought, "How pitiful."
Until one day, probably about May 13.
You know. Near the end of the school year when ALL TEACHERS HAVE MET THEIR LIMIT; and this teenage child threw his pencil on the floor and said, " I can't get it."
Well, I'll have you to know, that I told that child to get out of that wheelchair and get that pencil off the floor or I would FAIL him.
Mind you, thirty other students had watched this child with a disability abuse me all year. You know. "Yank my chain!"
But, I only had a few more days, and I had had it!
Then the whole class quietened.
Total silence.
And then. . . .
the boy child unbuckeled his seatbelt, climed out of his wheelchair, retreived the pencil. . .
And the class APPLAUDED!
And I WON!
However, tonight I picked up Truett's napkin.
So, I'm wondering how much teacher I have left in me?
What do you think?
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