4th 5th and 6th Grades

My Memories of those Grades

Gosh, it was fearful

We were segregated, we were off to our own.

In special education, the mobility impaired.

Kevin rocking away but super intelligent.

Kim, the cutie, with missing limbs and fingers, best of friends, black and pretty.

It was 4^th, 5^th, and 6^th grades.

In Kindergarten, it was MaryLu, Leondra, and a whole host of friends.

Always segregated and taught on our level. 

In 4^th, Fifth, and Sixth, the fear set in.  They came to our class for an hour at a time.

That was integration; that was mainstreaming.  We did not know what to do.  How to talk to them.  So, we just focused on the tasks.  It was one period I remember, it was Art.  We were equal in art. 

We had all the materials we needed.  All we had to do was hold back the fear.  They would be gone soon. 

We were happy in our group.  Karen was my girl.  We did the typical kid thing on the bus.  We passed the notes.  We were happy.  We were not afraid when it was just us. 

We brought toys to school.  And, I got my favorite car stolen.  The Yellow Corvette.  Down the Hallways it went during break time.  I lost the remote but it would go. 

I am not sure what happened.  The headbangers were in a different class.  But now a days, it seems like the headbangers are in the regular classes with others.  That is a no no. 

We were the physically impaired, but not mentally.  We could learn.  It took us a while to write.  Herman was the best runner.  He could hardly hear.  He was kool.  Lisa B. was the second girl I tried to chase.  Lisa R. was the High School one. 

Once we moved from school, as much as we wanted to, we lost touch.  There were no play dates.  No Handicapped night outs or sleep overs.  My brothers had the sleep overs.  No pampers needed to be changed there. 

I remember in Kindergarten, Harold beat the hamburgers out of me.  He just changed me, and I pooped.  I had a royal accident.  He thought I did it on purpose. 

Pete, he was the mastermind.  In high school, we cut class.  We had the key to the teachers bathroom.  We had a psycho English teacher.  She was new age.  We sat in a circle and hummed.  So we cut class.  We were in the bathroom the whole period.  How does that happen.  Pete helped us, the aide that did not say a word. 

We came out for shop.  Cripples with saws.  That was awesome.  We learned, but now I think about the legal hazard and liability.  Would they allow such in 2018?  I made stuff with my hands.  I was proud.  So did Norman.  The guy in the wheelchair.  The guy with the crooked arms. 

There is a dumb kids regret.  We touched her boobies.  We tormented her.  She hated us, rightfully so.  Something I prohibit my kids from doing.  NO BULLYING OR HARRASSING.  It was in Flushing Meadow Park, the last incident.  For that I am sorry.  For the things to Norman, I am sorry.  Cripples can be terrors too.  To Larry I am sorry.  This was part of High School and Post College. 

Then, there was the token cripple.  The white cripple.  The loved child.  Jerry’s Kid.  He was Cris R.  A family of means. He made it far.  They always need a token child.  The able bodied to prove they were human and had compassion.  Only one cripple allowed though.  That still holds true in 2018. 

I miss my love.  Wanted her when Karen left.  Yes, we were devious in our disability.  Disability does not negate the devious, just we can blame it on our disability and often get away with it.  “Oh, that poor cripple, he is just acting out.”  That was Elementary School and Part of High School and Part of Post College. 

We were scared.  Finally, they left the room.  We could then laugh, play, and learn together.  That was our life. 

Yes I know all about special education.  Yes I know all about mainstreaming.  Do not try to teach me.  I been there and done that.