dona's 365

The summer I taught Robert , I taught Jackie, too. Jackie was what was once called a savant. He couldn't add, subtract or comprehend text, but he memorized the telephone book and could tell you the day of the week on which you were born if you gave him your birthday.

We asked the graduating sixth-graders where they thought they’d be in ten years. Chris wrote: in jail . We thought he was being difficult. When I heard he’d stolen a teacher’s car from his middle school lot and crashed it into a police car, I suspected he might have been right.

Brian never seemed happy. He wrote in his journal about a monster that lived in his house and broke his toys. His mother cried when she read the entry, and told me about her once normal daughter who, after a high fever, was diagnosed with Autism. She was Brian’s monster.

With dark eyes, surrounded by long full lashes Gina was already a beauty in seventh grade. For some long-forgotten reason, Sr. Joan had it in for Gina. Each morning she'd present Gina with eye-makeup remover and a tissue and demand she wipe off her non-existent mascara. Gina always stoically complied.

Tom Cruise look-alike, smooth-talking, thirteen-year-old Diran even had the older nuns under his spell. He was nearly expelled from Catholic school for smoking in the boys’ room, but given a warning instead. He finally was kicked out when he brought a knife to the school. Not one of my successes.

M’s abusive mother thought she named her son after an African tornado. It turned out she’d named him aptly though. His mood changed directions several times a day; influencing the climate of the classroom and more than once his history caused our eyes to rain tears of sadness and anger.

Most lunch recesses at BLC : We’d cry, “No eating the ants!” He’d tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap on the sidewalk with his fingertips, saying “They’re my best friends! I have to eat them because they are my best friends.” We’d shake our heads and walk away. There was no arguing with that.

“Buttered Carrots! I LOVE Buttered carrots!” and “I LOVE Amelia Bedelia!” were two of J’s stock phrases. Sweet girl, but at 16 she had few interests beyond carrots and Amelia Bedelia. Her mom had syphilis when J was born. It kind of ruined J’s chances before she got a start.

Exasperated at being called prejudiced yet again by my inner city students, I taught an impromptu lesson on racism. We discussed the major races, where they originated in the world and the impact of migration. Lafayette sat in silence. Then: Lafayette: “Who won?” Me: "What?" Lafayette: “Who won the race?”

Another reason I became a special education teacher, Johnny was a student in an elementary school class with which I worked as a high school junior. He said his parents ridiculed him for “being stupid” and compared him to his older, more successful siblings. I wonder where he is now.