I’m a substitute teacher, which means I’m on call at the local elementary school. Mainly I work with children who are learning disabled. There is a young boy named William (I’ve changed his name) who was born with many problems, and the doctors didn’t know what to name his condition. William has medium control over his hands and arms, so he needs assistance writing. I hold his hand and make sure he is paying attention and moving the pencil on his own instead of letting me do it. He has cognitive disabilities where he can only read on a kindergarten level and has trouble spelling and counting. I’ve known him since kindergarten, and now he is in the 6th grade. He is also pigeon toed, so he walks very slowly. We leave early for each class so he can make it on time. William also has facial deformities. His eyes are uneven and his forehead is too high. I worry about him since he will be going into Junior High School next year. How will he handle going from class to class? Will his classmates start bullying him? What about those in high school? He’ll have an aide, but all of the teachers want him to be as independent as possible.
What I find amazing about the other kids in school is that they don’t pick on him. Sure, they sometimes feel uncomfortable, I see it in their turned down mouths and confused eyes; they won’t sit by him at lunch or play with him at recess. Only the kids in the special classes do that. I don’t know if it bothers William or not. I’ve never asked him because I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He’s never brought it up either.
William’s future is a sad one when people with able bodies and minds look at it. Sure, he will be walked through the school system until high school graduation but he’ll never have a real job. He’ll always live with his mother or in a home. William though is one of the happiest kids I know. Each time he finishes his work he yells and jumps around, “I did it! I did it!” He’s happy. Shouldn’t that be good enough for people like me who aren’t are severely disabled or anyone else?
When William plays basketball, he plays as hard as his deformed body will let him. No matter how many times he misses the goal, he keeps trying. The ball may hit the rim and come smashing into his chest because he can’t catch it, but he keeps trying. He refuses to let me play! He wants nobody’s help. I’ve learned from him to never give up and don’t let anyone else get in your way.