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The
bands that held the Gulliver like giant down were the bonds of ignorance
and as they broke away from that imaginary person the parents of those
little ones began to demand attention for their children. Wars were waged
with the powers by the parents and their savvy children scurried about
with only a common goal in mind and this was to go to school every
day from home like everyone else. No charging knight went before them, no
glorious message of declaration was preached. Only a dogged determination
made them want to get to their class, if but for one more day. What a
noble thing to see acted out by one after another disabled child. It was
incredible. Of course, the men who were able to observe and see those
parents willing to work with their own children did know the lengths to
which they would go. No longer were parents going to be pushed into
offering their children up to some state home where they were torn away
from their own.
The numbers
were beginning to be released. To house a child in an institution came to
a cost of 4000 dollars a month. That is 48,000 dollars a year. For ten
years the numbers jump, 480,000 or almost a half million dollars. All at
once, to have parents taking that expense on their own shoulders just as
they did for their well children began to look more interesting as far as
politicians were concerned not to mention the tax payers. Again money
talks. The prejudice toward people who were less than perfect had to be
addressed, after all that war on another continent was behind us.
Enlightenment always seems to come at one time and this was what was
happening before the 1970's. For some reason the people up above were
looking at the many parents who were single and alone in their efforts in
trying to work through the problems of keeping a disabled child at home
and were somehow separate one from another but strangely united, too.
Their efforts were not organized. No throngs of marching insurrection
existed, only a personal individual determined conscientious activity
happened and they brought attention to themselves and their quest because
of this.
After
Rhonda proved she could function in the classroom she was then accepted
into public school, at Lincoln school in Ponca City. A special ramp was
built on the back side of the school so we could just easily access a
classroom.
Mrs. Jones was her teacher
for this year. An aide was hired. This lady helped our daughter to the
bathroom and was in the classroom should any of the other students need
her.
“Honda
is her nickname.” One of the mischievous boys grinned slyly as he met me
at the door and then took over to push Rhonda to her desk and in place.
“Honda?”
I asked. “Why Honda?”
“Cause
she has wheels.” Only as a little boy can enjoy a joke all by himself and
this is what he was doing. He was chuckling all over his body with both
fists up to his cheeks and his shoulders hunched up.
Rhonda
enjoyed being accepted enough to have her own nickname and she was
grinning from ear to ear as well.
Mrs.
Jones, the young, light-hearted woman, was well educated in that
relatively newer field of special education.
After class we spent time
visiting about what could and should be done. I took notes, composed them
into letters and one by one sent them en mass to every Senator or state
politician who might be interested. Governor David Hall, Governor Nigh and
his wife Donna, were the ones involved with implementing many of Mrs.
Jones original ideas. It wasn’t long after that, special education over
the whole nation was being put in place, admittedly awkward and not ever
as it should be but at least a start. |
