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We were back in Oklahoma
and it was Monday morning. I found myself starring up at the steep steps
into East Junior High where Rhonda was to attend the Special Education
Classes.
“Come on Rhonda, hang
tough!” I was warning her of what was going to happen with the steps.
“There has to be a method,
here.” I spoke aloud to her. “Maybe just mind over matter.”
The steps were not deep
enough to allow me to rest between them. It was necessary to pull the
chair backward up the steps since this angle would prevent Rhonda from
being dumped out of the front of the chair. I discovered if I pulled the
chair one step at a time, counted to four while completely relaxing my
back and leg muscles I could then make the next step. In this manner we
were able to make it to the top. When I entered the classroom with Rhonda
I realized that unlike Plano this was a class completely isolated from the
other students. Rhonda wouldn’t be a part of this total academic process
but would be neatly hidden away in this room far from the “normal”
students.
“I feel like Don Quixote
challenging windmills this morning,” I laughed and spoke to the friendly
little teacher.
“I know what you mean.” She
responded.
The petite little woman,
had the features of a strong tribe in Africa I had once studied and as if
to match her ancestor’s will she was in complete control of this rowdy
class of teenagers. Every disability was penned up here in this place and
they all seemed angry about that. Two of the boys were exchanging blows
with their fists to each other’s shoulders. I believed the teacher could
have spent most of her time with discipline and as if to answer my
thoughts she spoke to the culprits who were big enough to do real physical
damage to one another.
“That’s enough of that
boys. I sure would hate to have to send two boys to the office this early
in the morning.”
The boys stopped their
quiet warfare, glared at her, at me and then at Rhonda. With no more
physical contact each took their places at a desk.
The teacher, Mrs. Leonard
Williams, must have seen my insecurity in having to leave Rhonda in such a
place and she immediately reassured me.
“Don’t worry about her. I
have Ms. Grant here as an aide. She will be with Rhonda at all times.”
Ms. Grant was a Native
American woman and even though I didn’t know her personally I knew her
family. There was a history of their strength of character and
intelligence. Certainly, I felt secure with the knowledge that she would
be available to help my daughter.
Every day the step were a
new challenge but we kept at it, jerking the chair over one obstacle at a
time until we reached the top. The brave little teacher tried in vain to
get a ramp built but her efforts went unnoticed. Today, and I don’t really
know when it was put there, a long, cement ramp stands on one side of the
school. However, I would be safe in betting the children are still kept
apart from the rest of the students. |
