Out of My Mind- ch. 12

[0:00]Chapter 12. By the end of October, the inclusion program had been expanded. Maria and Jill had been added to art and gym classes, and Freddy and Willie go to science. Me, it's the first time I've ever gotten to change classes for different subjects in my life. Now when the bell rings, instead of wondering what's happening out there in the halls, I'm out there too. It's awesome. I plow through the crowds in my electric chair like a power mower in thick grass. Sometimes kids wave or say, what's up? Every once in a while, someone will even walk with me to the next class. Cool. But inclusion doesn't mean I'm included in everything. I usually sit in the back of the room, going crazy because I know answers to things and can't tell anybody. What's the difference of the word dignity? one of my teachers asked a few days ago. Of course I knew, so I raised my hand, but the teacher didn't notice the small movement I'm able to make. And even if she were to call on me, what then? I can't very well yell out the answers. It's really frustrating. During parent conferences earlier this month, my parents came in to meet Mrs. Shannon and the other teachers. Instead of leaving me on my own in a corner somewhere, Mrs. Shannon pulled me into the circle of teachers who are involved in the inclusion program. She is so great. She patted the arm of my chair and smiled. This child's got some serious smarts. She's going to be our star in this program. I did my usual screeching and kicking. I think I would have kissed her if I could, but that would have been pretty sloppy, I guess. Well, it's about time somebody recognizes what we've always known, my dad told Mrs. Shannon. We really appreciate the opportunity to let her show what she can do. Mom was especially pleased to find out I'd been assigned a mobility assistant, an aid of my own. Finally, Mom said, relief in her voice. We've been asking for this for years. Budget bust and paperwork. A system that runs on grits instead of good sense. I am so sorry, Mrs. Shannon replied, shaking her head. I'm trying to get all the students in H5 the services they need, but I smacked an aid for Melady up way up to the top of my list, so we'll see how it goes. I'm expecting a wonderful school year. So cool, I tapped on my board. An aid, wow. This person's job would be to take me classes, sit with me, and help me participate. I wondered what she would look like, or maybe I'd get a guy. Would he be young and cute, or old and grumpy? The very next day, my new aid was at school before I was, chatting with Mrs. Shannon in room H5 as we kids were wheeled in. She came right over to me and took my hand. Hi Melany, I'm glad to meet you. My name is Catherine. I go to the university and I'm going to be your deals and wheels every day. She talked to me like I'm just another student, not a kid in a wheelchair. I tried not to kick, but it was hard to hold my excitement. Cute t-shirt, she said as she checked out Tweety Bird on the front of my new lavender top Mom and bought for me. I pointed to thanks on my board. What's your favorite color? she asked then. I pointed to purple, but then quickly slid my thumb over to green. I grinned at her. You're quick, Melody. I can see we both like weird colors. We're going to get along just fine. Catherine was dressed in purple tennis shoes, green tights, a purple suede skirt and the ugliest green sweater I've ever seen. I wanted to tease her about her outfit, but I didn't want her to think I was mean. After all, I just met her. I searched all over my board for a way to jokingly make fun of her clothes, but I couldn't think of a way to do it, so I gave up. It is so hard to say stuff. So now it's Catherine who helps me at lunch so I don't make a mess, and Catherine who reads off the answers I put point to on my board. She added some more words and phrases to it, and she helped Mrs. Shannon order the books I need to read. She even made sure the headphones don't fall off my ears. The regular fifth grade language arts teacher, Miss Gordon, is not much older than Catherine. She almost explodes with energy and makes books seem like live action plays. She jumps up on the table, sometimes she sings. She lets the class act out parts of stories and sometimes she even turns books into games. Vocabulary bingo! Mrs. Gordon announced one morning. Donuts to the winning team. As they played, my classmates broke their necks to get the right definitions, screamed out answers, and groaned when they messed up. In just half an hour, every student in the room knew all 20 vocab words. Miss Gordon gave donuts to the losing team too, but the winners got the ones with the chocolate sprinkles. I knew all of the definitions, but the other kids moved too fast for me. Chocolate would have made my mess on my clothes anyway. One usually warm day this week, Miss Gordon brought in fans and spray bottles of water to let us eat popsicles in class. Orange ones, of course, in honor of Halloween, while she read poems about pumpkins and ghosts. Catherine held my popsicle for me with a paper towel under my chin. We didn't spill one drop. Miss Gordon does other cool things too, like when she decided the class would read the story of Anne Frank. She had kids take turns squeezing into a small space she had built under tables so they could understand how Anne might have felt. I couldn't do that, but I got the idea. And she assigned other great books this semester. I'm reading, well, listening to, Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor and The Giver by Lois Lowry. And there's one called Tuck Everlasting. The kid never gets to grow up. Staying a child forever is not as cool as folks may think. Because of Mrs. V, I could actually read the books, but the print is usually very small and it's hard for my eyes to stay on the right line. And nobody has figured out the best way for me to hold on to a book without it falling on the floor a million times. So I usually choose the audio book instead of the written version. I even take tests now. Catherine read me the questions and I point to the answers on the sheet she placed on my tray. I passed every single test. And she doesn't help me one single bit. I would probably get 100% on each one, but some of the questions require long answers. I just can't explain with the words on my board. One time in spelling, Miss Gordon read the words aloud, and I pointed to the letter on my board. Catherine wrote down what I pointed to so I could follow along with the test. Claire and Molly, who are always watching me. It feels like, began to complain. It's not fair, Claire cried, waving her hand to get Miss Gordon's attention. Catherine cheats for her, Molly added. What is with it these two? It's like they're jealous of me or something, and that's just plain crazy. At the same time, I realized that they actually thought I had it easier. That sure was a first. Last Monday, Miss Gordon told the class, as some of you may know, because I do this every year, our long-range fifth grade project this year is our biography unit. We will read the biographies of famous people, do a report on a famous person of your choosing, and each of you will also write your own autobiography. Well, it's got to be short. What can you do in 11 years? Connor, the big kid shouted. Everybody laughed. In your case, Connor, Miss Gordon replied. I'm sure you'll think of way too much. Can I do my report on the guy who invented hamburgers? Connor asked, to more laughter. I doubt if we knew who made the first hamburger, but you can do your report on the person who founded McDonald's. He got rich off hamburgers and fries. Awesome, my kind of dude, Connor said. Rose raised her hand. I love the fact that she's in all my inclusion classes. Miss Gordon, when is all of this due? Rose is the type of student who takes all kinds of notes in bright red spiral planner and never misses a homework assignment. Relax, Rose. We've got until the end of May and I'll walk you through each segment one step at a time. Tomorrow, we'll talk about how to write your memories. Rose seemed satisfied, but I noticed she scribbled almost a whole page in her notebook. I'd give anything to do that, but working on stuff that teachers in the regular classes assigned is just plain awesome. History class is even better than language arts class, even though the teacher, a man named Mr. Deming, has none of Miss Gordon's spark. Balding and pudgy, he's been teaching at the school for over 20 years, and kids say he's never been absent, not even once. Clearly, he loves what he does. His car is always in the parking lot when our bus rolls in and always there when we leave for the day. He dresses like a TV preacher in three-piece suits and vests most days. I've never seen him without a crisp white shirt and a colorful tie. I wonder if his wife picks them out. Some of them are really sharp. Mr. D loves history. He can quote facts and dates and wars and generals like somebody on a game show. I bet he could win on Jeopardy. The other students don't seem to like Mr. Deming much. They call him Dimwit Deming behind his back. I think that's sort of mean because Mr. D is really smart, smart enough to run the quiz team. When Mr. Deming got to American presidents in class, I rocked. He gave the students list of presidents and all their vice presidents, and told us there would be a test in a week. Catherine read the names to me several times. I've never heard of some of these men, she admitted to me as we went over the list the first time. Hannibal Hamlin was Abraham Lincoln's first vice president, who knew? I memorized them all. When Mr. Deming gave the test, all I had to do was point to the right answers. He checked to make sure that Catherine wasn't helping me. I even finished before some of the others. While Mr. D was returning test papers, he gave the class a few minutes of free time to sharpen pencils or stretch or talk. I was surprised to see Rose walking toward my desk. How did you do on the test, Melody? she asked. I only got a 75. She looked disappointed. I'd gotten an 85, but I was so excited that she'd come over to me that I got all mixed up, so I pointed to the five and then eight on my board. She touched my arm, her eyes full of sympathy. Don't worry, she said, you'll do better next time. And she did this right in front of Molly and Claire and the rest of the class. There was no way I was going to tell her what I really got on the test. I tried to think of something to say so she'd stay longer. Pretty and shirt was all I could come up with using my lame board. I sure could use a word choice that said cool outfit, but somehow Mrs. V had overlooked that one. But Rose beamed. You look nice today too. I really didn't. I had on a faded blue sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. Mom hardly got me anything else these days, but I hate sweat suits. If I could choose, I'd wear blue jeans with sparkly decals, a blouse with decorated buttons and a vest. But I had no way to tell Rose that, so I just pointed to thank you. Incredibly, she touched my arm one more time, then she went back to her seat and her friends. Then the bell rang. Class was over and I had to go back to H5. No more inclusion, no more Rose. And four more hours of school left. Even Catherine left. She had the afternoon classes at the university and hurried to get there on time. Mrs. Shannon was out that sick that day, so I sat quietly with Ashley and Maria and Carl and Willie, while we watched The Lion King again. I've seen it a million times. I can quote it. Then the substitute teacher gave us a math lesson. Addition. Again. When am I ever going to get to long division? I wondered what Rose was doing. It was a very long afternoon.