Chapter Five

 

 

 

“Welcome, Rich. Come in,” Mrs. Tilley says, smiling at me. She and Amy push desks out of the way in the center of the classroom.

My electric wheelchair and desk take a lot of space. I stop inside of the classroom’s door, watching the two of them clear desks in the fourth through the sixth row, removing desks from each row. It makes me feel special!

“Is that good?” asks Amy, pushing the last desk from the sixth row.

“Yes, thank you Amy,” Mrs. Tilley replies.

Then Mrs. Tilley asks me, “Is Mrs. Day coming with your computer?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Good! I have made room for your desk and wheelchair near the electrical outlet. Make yourself comfortable,” Mrs. Tilley says, smiling at me.

I drive my chair into the middle of the purple cinder-block classroom, which is decorated with colorful posters. Purple reminds me of the Minnesota Vikings. I can’t tolerate the color purple since I am a Green Bay Packers fan, but there is a huge Green Bay Packers poster, hanging from the left side of the chalkboard near Mrs. Tilley’s grey metal desk.

Mrs. Tilley’s cluttered desk is full of papers, books, pens, pencils, fuzzy knickknacks, a big glass jar of gummy bears, and a computer just like mine. Packers’ ribbons and the G logo of the Green Bay Packers are the only decorations that I like in this hideous purple classroom. There is so much to see in Mrs. Tilley’s room! My eyes are roaming all over the place. The Packers are my favorite team, making me admire Mrs. Tilley even more. A teacher who loves the Packers must be cool!

Mrs. Day arrives with my computer and table, making me excited. She pushes the desk into the room as students flow in the classroom. Mrs. Day waits to slide the table in front of me.

I spin around facing the green chalkboard before I slowly drive forward to the desk. When I am within a few feet from the desk, I stop the wheelchair before turning it off with my left hand.

I see Chad and Mark enter the English classroom, nudging each other with their elbows when they see me there. I am scared! It makes me want to yell or leave the room after the two of them sneeringly laugh but I decide to ignore their negative behavior. When Tyrone walks through the door, I smile at him. I feel safe after Amy pats me on my shoulder whispering, “Its okay, Rich. Mom won’t let the boys or anyone hurt you here, I promise.”

“Thank you, Amy. I am okay,” I say.

Timmy comes into the classroom, pointing at his Wisconsin shirt saying, “Badgers are number one!”

“Yeah,” I say, laughing.

Timmy looks around the room and asks, “Where’s the Hawkeye fan?”

“You know John. He always waits until the last minute,” I say, laughing and knowing that John will be late!

“That’s John, all right,” Timmy says, before he sits down next to Tyrone and Amy.

I fall into a fit of laughter thinking about John.

After Mrs. Day plugs in my computer, she turns it on then asks, “Okay, Rich. What do I do now?”

I don’t hear her question since I see Lisa Scott entering. My attention always shifts to Lisa anytime I see her I hope to get a smile, a wink or maybe even a “Hi,” from her.

Mrs. Day raises her voice to get me to answer her question. Mrs. Day tries again and says in a loud voice, “Rich tell me what I need to do!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. I am sorry, Dee. Take out the head array and the white box,” I say. My head array is a metal device with a red and yellow buttons that I use to tap Morse code to write.

She takes out the metal contraption with wires, a red and yellow buddy buttons from my backpack. Mrs. Day brings out the small white console with six red buttons. She places the head array and the white box on the floor beside the left rear wheel of my wheelchair.

Mrs. Tilley comes over to ask, “Is there anything else that you need?”

“Yeah, I need a chair,” I say

Mrs. Tilley returns to her desk, taking a blue plastic chair from behind the grey metal desk. She picks up the chair, carrying it over to me.

I smile at her when she brings the chair. By motioning my head to the right, I say, “Please put it over here.” I point my head to the area next to the wheelchair’s front right wheel and a foot away from the table.

Mrs. Tilley puts the chair in the spot. She asks, “Here?”

“Yeah, that’s good. Thank you, Mrs…” I say, having trouble talking to finish my sentence. Sometimes when my muscles are tight or I’m excited I have trouble talking.

“Is anything else that I can do?” Mrs. Tilley asks.

“No, thank you.” I say.

Mrs. Tilley walks back to her desk as students keep coming into the classroom, taking their seats.

“Okay, Dee,” I say.

“Do you see that grey wire on the side?” I ask.

I lean over the left armrest, pointing with my eyes at the dangling grey wire connection below the armrest. Droplets of drool fall onto the floor as Mrs. Day kneels beside me.

She touches the grey connection in the middle of the wire. “This?”

“Yeah, Unhook it,” I tell Mrs. Day, loving how I’m instructing her in install the Morse code output device.

Mrs. Day gently pulls away the wire, disconnecting it.

“That’s good. Okay, go back to unscrew the head array,” I say.

After she stands up, Mrs. Day walks to the back of the wheelchair. She finds the black knob to unloosen the metal head array from the holders that are attached to the back seat.

I feel the head array, becoming loose and say, “Take it out, Dee.”

She lifts the metal piece out of the holder carefully putting it on the floor next to the other head array.

Some students are watching the process of my conversion to Morse code, while jabber among themselves. There is a curiosity in the class as they stop talking to glance to what is happening to me.

“Okay, Dee. Put the other head array in and tighten it,” I say.

Mrs. Day picks up the metal contraption with buddy buttons, sliding it in the holder. Then she fastens the head array in place. “Is that good?” Mrs. Day asks.

“Yeah, it is good. Put the box on the chair,” I say.

Mrs. Day places the small white output device on the blue seat.

“Okay, Dee. Hook up the red wire to the red button to slot A on the side. Hook up the yellow wire to the yellow button to slot B,” I say.

Mrs. Day picks up the console in her left hand, plugging the wires into the correct holes before placing it again on the chair.

My cousin John enters the classroom just when the bell rings. I love to tease John for being late and making other people wait for him. The second I see John walk into the classroom I start to laugh turning my head towards Timmy. I catch Timmy’s gaze.

When Timmy sees me laugh, he shouts, “King James has finally arrived.”

“Yeah,” I say in a loud voice also laughing.

John grimaces at Timmy and me before sitting down in the back of the room.

When I stop laughing, Mrs. Tilley stands next to my computer and says, “All right, people, settled down!”

I continue to tell Mrs. Day how to install the Morse code output device to the computer. I say, “Hook up the white wire to the UBS Port.”

Mrs. Day plugs in the thick white cord, activating the Morse code output device. A ding sounds signals the device is ready for me to use.

“It’s done. I’ll take over, Dee. Thank you,” I say.

Mrs. Day sits at a desk next to my table.

The students keep on talking until Mrs. Tilley yells, “People quiet down now. I said now!”

Mrs. Tilley’s high tone of voice startles me, and makes me jump, but the English class becomes silent in an instant.

I realize Mrs. Tilley is a lot like Miss Evans. They care deeply about each of their students, but at the same time demand respect from their class.

Silence fills the classroom, but I have a problem. My Morse code software makes noise when I sway my head back and forth writing out words or using the mouse. A soft “zing” sounds when the mouse is used.

I don’t want to make Mrs. Tilley mad at me, but I need to load CoWriter, and create a Word document. What should I do, I wonder? Should I wait? I don’t know what to do. After a minute, I ask, “Mrs. Tilley, can I use my computer? It will make noise,” I say.

“Sure. Go ahead, Rich. Now people, we’ll be reading and writing a lot. You’ll be writing three creative papers and a book report. You can write the book report on any book that you want. We’ll be reading Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story, To Kill A Mockingbird, Mice and Men, and My Left Foot. In fact your first homework assignment is to read The Letter A in My Left Foot by Christy Brown,” Mrs. Tilley says.

When Mrs. Tilley stops talking, she begins to handout the books. First she takes the books from a wooden crate underneath the chalkboard. She has to make several trips to the box in order to distribute them to the class.

Until Miss Evans gave me a couple Hardy Boys novels for Christmas. I didn’t like to read. Reading for me meant having to wait for a page to be turned. I enjoyed physical activity, like watching my neighbor, Allen, work in his cornfield. I quickly fell in love with the action packed Hardy Boys mysteries. I spent the entire Christmas vacation, reading the two Hardy Boys novels. The achievement of conquering any challenge gives me a sense of belief that I can do anything I want when I put my mind to it. The challenge of reading two books for the first time gave me a sense of accomplishment. It made me want to read more.

I love working on a computer more than I do reading. After looking at the desktop to check where the technology coach, Mr. Strong, has placed CoWriter and My Documents folder, I click on the Mouse Mode. I swing my head twice on the red button. Then I hit both buttons once with my head, putting the computer into Mouse Mode. After I hear a low ding, signaling the computer is in Mouse Mode, I slap the red button twice, making the mouse move down. When I stop the mouse at the level of CoWriter, I tap the red button once causing the arrow to move to the left. I watch the mouse move to the left, waiting to double-click on the CoWriter icon to open the word prediction program. The word prediction software predicts words from a list of words. After opening CoWriter, I hit the yellow button twice, making the arrow travel up to My Documents. I double-click on My Documents, opening the file of Word documents. Then I tap the yellow button once, moving the mouse to the right. I stop the mouse before moving it down to a Word document. When I double-click on a Word document, I exit Mouse Mode, using the same code use to enter Mouse Mode. Using the code for Control and H, I hide the CoWriter word prediction window. There is a lot to remember to get CoWriter set up in a Word document in order to write, but it soon becomes a breeze to me with some practice. I have been using the Morse code program for just about eight months now. Some people think that I know everything about computers when they see me operate it. I am actually clueless about computers! I just like stringing words together.

I sigh when Mrs. Tilley put my paperback book in front of me. More homework. What did I do to deserve this? Again, I think about returning to Miss Evans’ Special Education class so I can be the king of the hill.

Mrs. Tilley stands in front of the chalkboard, getting ready to address the class and says, “People, the author of My Left Foot, Christy Brown had severe Cerebral palsy. Christy couldn’t use his hands or talk very well. So he used his left foot to paint and write. Christy didn’t go to school, but he published a couple of books. He didn’t have many friends except for his brothers and sisters.”

Christy Brown sounds a lot like me, lacking an education and friends, except he is an author! Someday I want to publish a book. At that instant, I remember that Tom is an author with Cerebral palsy and I laugh, staring at Mrs. Tilley before saying, “That’s awesome!”

She smiles at me, and then replies, “Yes, it is, Rich.”

“I wish that I knew a person like that,” I say, imagining my name on a book cover. My doubt that physically disabled people like me can become productive has plagued my self-confidence.

Amy starts to say something to me, but Mrs. Tilley stops her.

“Class, I want you to write about a time that you ever did something for the very first time. You’ve twenty minutes to write it before we read some of them out loud to the class. Your time starts now!” Mrs. Tilley says, glancing at her wristwatch.

The class takes out their spiral notebooks and begins writing at their desks. Mrs. Tilley sits at her desk, working at the computer.

I tap my head back and forth for the equals command to bring up CoWriter. Then I start to write by spelling out the word “school” in a sentence. When I see a word from a word list, I tap the number with the word I want. CoWriter automatically puts the word in the sentence before moving forward, waiting for me to spell the next word. The word prediction program leaves two spaces at the beginning of a sentence, and capitalizes the first word at the start of each sentence.

My photographic memory memorized the code sequence for each letter, number, punctuation, and commands a few weeks after Dad finished developing it for me. It took two years for Dad to create the Morse code program. My classmates ignore their writing assignment and stare at me. I feel like I am performing on a stage, playing the piano in front of an audience. I am nervous, but I focus on writing my assignment, wanting to show my classmates that I can be a student, just like them.

Mrs. Tilley sees that my classmates are not doing their work and says, “Get working people! Rich is using a computer to write. I expect you to write when Rich is writing. Get going now!”

My English classmates start jotting in their spiral notebooks after her warning. I almost laugh, but my writing keeps my mind busy.

It doesn’t seem to bother them when the Morse code device buzzes. When I use Shift Key, Control, Alt, quotation marks, question marks, ampersands, at signs, and exclamation points, the Morse code output device makes a loud ding, disrupting the silent classroom. My regular classmates at my new school soon realized that the computer allows me to write Using Morse code and CoWriter takes all of my concentration.

Writing with CoWriter is faster than dictating to people. Using CoWriter reminds me of the time my Dad helped our neighbor clear a fallen oak tree blocking the road. Anytime that I am outside with Dad I always enjoy it! I sat in the pickup and for two hours watched two men cut the tree into firewood logs. After lunch my Dad took his maul and spent the rest of the afternoon splitting wood until there was enough to fill the back of our truck. I learned the meaning of hard work that day, watching Dad split the logs. My neighbor dragged his gas-powered wood splitter and struggled to get it gunning. I liked seeing the log splitter into a huge pile.

I recalled a farmer who pulled a plow over his big field with his small Ford tractor. It took him a week to finish the plowing, but other farmers with bigger equipment finished another field in one day. I always wondered why the farmer used a small tractor and plow. Dictating is like using a hand maul or a small tractor.

I only use simple words when dictating. Using a computer makes me think of big tractors and power wood splitters and much bigger words and phrases. I have the ability to do more now with the computer. I might even write a story!

I don’t spell well or use different verb tenses in my writing. People like my Mom, Dad and Miss Evans add an “ed” or “s” to the endings of words when I dictate. I never have to spell out words except for the time Miss Evans gave me my spelling test. After memorizing my spelling list I couldn’t remember how to spell words without having the ability to write on my own. CoWriter helps me to spell. The word prediction program gives me the ability to pick the correct spelling from the word list.

I tap away on my first English assignment, wanting to prove to my classmates that I belong in regular school with them. My mind knows what it wants to say to the class.

A grey metal bookshelf in the back corner keeps distracting my attention for some unknown reason. It looks like an ordinary bookshelf filled with books, but on the top shelf three books are displayed in their clear plastic covers. In the center of the bookshelf in front of the three books, is a white piece of paper in a plastic wrapper. The paper with bold text capital letters read: MY AUTHOR: TOM PIKE. The name of Tom Pike appears on the front jackets of the three books. I want to stop writing now to Google Tom Pike’s name email him, asking if he can help me write an article. Now I want more than ever to become an author. I decide not to Google Pike for the time being to avoid getting into trouble with Mrs. Tilley.

I shift my attention to a picture of a hairy looking man with wrinkles and weird eyes hanging near the bookshelf. At the time I don’t yet know about Albert Einstein. Albert Einstein scares me! He looks like an ape to me, but he intrigues me. The long eyelashes tell me that it is a man in the picture, making curious about him.

The entire class sees Mrs. Tilley pound her desk with her left fist look up from her computer, and say, “Yes, Tom! You go for it!” She pulls a tissue from a caramel-colored Kleenex box on her desk to wipe away the tears rolling down her cheeks. Mrs. Tilley types something really fast on her computer before standing up. Amy looks at Mrs. Tilley and asks, “Mom, are you okay?” She smiles at Amy and says, “Tom Pike is published again! His agent found a big publisher to publish his book. I’m very happy for him.” Mrs. Tilley glances at her wristwatch, “People, two minutes to go before we hear some of your first-time experiences. Get back to work!” Mrs. Tilley says to the class.

I finish the last sentence of my first experience assignment. At the end of the sentence, I put an exclamation point, making the computer go ding. I am done before my classmates! I feel proud of myself since I know I have written the perfect speech for the class to hear. Then I bring up Control and “S” to save the Word document. My Dad taught me the basic command functions the summer before I entered junior high school.

I sit resting my head between the buddy buttons, waiting for Mrs. Tilley to ask students to read their first-time experiences. Then I see Mr. Strong, the technical coach, walking at a fast pace up to Mrs. Tilley. I eavesdrop on their whispering.

Mr. Strong asks Mrs. Tilley, “Did you get the author’s email?”

“Yes, I did. He’s published again!” Mrs. Tilley says.

“This time Tom has an agent! I’m proud of him,” Mr. Strong replies, smiling from ear to ear.

“I’m proud of him, too,” Mrs. Tilley remarks.

“Tom deserved it,” Mr. Strong says, pouring a handful of gummy bears into his right hand. He walks out of the English classroom, grinning at Mrs. Tilley, gobbling the candy.

I want to laugh at Mr. Strong, but I don’t want to make Mrs. Tilley mad at me. How do Mrs. Tilley and Mr. Strong know Tom Pike? What is an agent? I thought that only professional sports athletes and TV stars have agents. It has to be pretty neat to know a person with three published books. Why does Tom Pike email Mrs. Tilley and Mr. Strong at school? Questions fill my mind.

My mind races with questions about Tom when Mrs. Tilley approaches the front of the classroom again. “Time is up! It’s time for some of you to share your first-time experiences.”

“Who wants to go first?” Mrs. Tilley asks.

A dead silence fills the purple classroom. None of the students volunteers to read their speech to the class.

I want to read my paper, but I don’t want to go first, saving the best for last.

Mrs. Tilley waits for what seems like a long time before saying, “All right. If no one volunteers, then I’ll start to pick people to read their assignment to the class.”

“I will, Mrs. Tilley,” Tyrone says. He quickly stands up clutching a crumbled piece of loose-leaf paper in his left hand.

“Good,” Mrs. Tilley says, taking a seat in a desk near me. She looks at Tyrone and says, “Anytime that you’re ready please begin.”

Tyrone shuffles his feet before he starts to read the speech out loud. The paper shakes in his hand when he reads his first experience assignment.

 

This summer, I learned how to swim for the first time at summer camp. I had never gone swimming before in my life. It scares me to go swimming. A camp counselor showed me how to swim in the kiddy pool. At first, I didn’t want to go into the water being that I was afraid of drowning. But my counselor taught me how to float and hold my breath under the water. I learned how to blow bubbles. Pretty soon, I was swimming in the deep end with the big campers. But it takes me time to overcome my fear of drowning. Once I do, I have fun! On the last day, I even dive off of the springboard into the deep end. I love to go swimming now! I’m no longer afraid of the water. I’m glad that I learned to swim. It’s a blast!

 

Tyrone sits down at his desk after Mrs. Tilley says, “That’s very good.”

She then asks, “Who wants to go next?”

Amy raises her right hand and says, “I will, Mrs. Tilley.”

I laugh thinking about Amy, calling her mom Mrs. Tilley. One time I remembered my Mom helped Miss Evans during a class field trip to an apple orchard. My Mom pushed me plus my Special Education classmates so we could watch how to make apple cider being made. I didn’t enjoy having Mom tag along that day. It made me realize how difficult it must be having the teacher be your own mother. I admire how Amy handles herself with both her mother and father at school.

After Amy stands up in front of the class she holds a hot-pink spiral Mead notebook against her chest. She clears her throat before reading the speech.

I want to laugh, but I manage not to. Laughing doesn’t seem appropriate when my new friend shares her assignment with the class. I am afraid if I do laugh that Amy will not like me. It embarrasses me when I laugh during class, but the moment that I start to laugh I can’t stop it! I try to be quiet but it doesn’t always work. My new friend, Amy loves Forensics meeting students, writing and giving speeches. I learn that Amy loves to talk, just like Mrs. Tilley.

 

I spent three weeks at summer camp. It was the first time I was away from my family for a long time. Going to camp had always been a ball for me. Going swimming, doing Forensics, hiking in the woods, dancing, fishing for crawdads, playing softball and singing songs by the campfire every day kept me busy. I enjoyed eating Cocoa Puffs with cocoa for breakfast. My camp counselor had us go canoeing, but my canoe tipped over in the middle of the slime filled lake. Algae covered my hair, making me look like The Moss Man. The other campers got a kick of it! I did, too, after awhile. I loved roasting marshmallows by the campfire, and singing songs. At night in the cabin, after lights out, we whispered among ourselves in our beds as crickets chirped outside of our window, keeping us awake. The only yucky part was that none of us liked cleaning out the thunder bucket each morning. But one of us had to empty it out when we cleaned the cabin every day. So we took turns! I could not believe this, but I started to miss my family at the end of the second week. It felt strange to miss my younger sports-crazed brother, Jake, with whom I always fought. I guess that I loved my brother! Did I really say that? But I missed my Mom the most. I love her.

 

“Good, Amy. Thank you for sharing that with us,” Mrs. Tilley says, blushing.

Amy smiles at Mrs. Tilley before returning to her desk to sit down.

“Okay, who wants to go next?” Mrs. Tilley asks.

My cousin, John mutters, “I will, I guess.”

John steps forward with his shoulders hunched.

I start to laugh, but Mrs. Tilley says, “Shhh” at me. After I take a deep breath to relax I bite my bottom lip to stop my laughing. I don’t want to get into trouble.

John holds a wrinkled piece of loose-leaf paper in his hands the paper shakes in his hand just like with Tyrone when he reads his speech to the English class.

 

It was the first summer I spent with my cousin, Rich, who moved from Springfield, Ohio to Leeds, Wisconsin in June. We liked to play outside together on our grandfather’s farm. I rode my dirt bike while he followed me in his wheelchair through the hilly hay and cornfields. Several times I had to go get the Cub Cadet garden tractor to pull him out of the mud. We hitched a hay rake to his electric wheelchair to see if we could rake hay in the field. Our grandma took a picture of us, pulling the hay rake. But my Dad told us to not hook up implements to the electric wheelchair ever again. We still had fun fishing at Huber’s pond. We ate candy and taffy while we fished for crawdads. During the summer we went places, like the fair and the farm show. I saw people stare at Rich sometimes. It made me mad and sad because people believe that Rich …how can I say this.... that is Rich is different, but Rich is actually just like us.

 

“That’s great, John,” Mrs. Tilley says.

John flashes a shy smile at her before returning to his desk.

I feel great after I hear what John said about me. It makes me proud to be his cousin. John is awesome! I love John for sticking up for me. At times I overhear other students ridicule him for protecting his cousin in the wheelchair. But I can always count on John, like a brother! For some reason I always laugh when I see John.

I giggle and grin at John after he slumps in his desk in the back of the classroom.

Mrs. Tilley looks at her wristwatch before saying, “We’ve time for one more speech.” “Who wants to go?” Mrs. Tilley looks around the classroom.

I take a deep breath and say, “I will.”

Mrs. Tilley answers, “Very good.”

“Can Amy read it for me?” I ask.

I want my classmates to understand what I want to say to the class. It takes awhile for people to understand me, but as time passes on and they get to know me they pick up on what I am saying. But this is only the first day.

“Sure,” Mrs. Tilley says.

“I would be glad to,” Amy replies.

She steps forward to my computer without having to be asked by Mrs. Tilley. Before she starts to read my speech out loud to the class, Mrs. Tilley says “thank you” to Amy. She reads my speech.

 

Today was my first day of regular school. I used to go to a school in Ohio. I went to a disabled class with nine disabled kids and one teacher. Regular school is different from the disabled class. I like it. In regular school I get homework, but it is not a punishment. I guess that I will use to it. If I want to be a regular student, I will have to. My regular teachers are okay. I like Mrs. Tilley. She is the best. I want to have friends. But regular kids call me bad names. One kid told me to go home. I want to be like everyone else. I guess that I am not. I don’t know if I can go to regular school. It makes me want to go back to the disabled class.

 

Mrs. Tilley gives me a big smile before saying, “Excellent, Rich!”

Amy pats me on my shoulder. She says in a soft voice, “I’ll always be your friend.”

Amy returns to her seat.

An eerie silence falls over the classroom for a moment until Mrs. Tilley says, “Rich, I want you to stay after class.”

In a raised voice, I say to Mrs. Tilley, “I am not bad. I got homework to do. I can’t.” My mind is overloaded with all of the homework that I have to do! I want to start on my assignments next hour so I can go to Oscars Ice Cream Shop with Dad after school I am worried that I am in trouble again!

“I know. You haven’t done anything bad. I want to show you something. It’s good, I promise you. You’ll like it. Please stay for me.” Mrs. Tilley says.

“Okay, I will,” I say.

“Thank you, Rich. Okay, people, please read the first chapter of The Left Foot by Christy Brown for tomorrow. Also, all of you need to start thinking about a book for your book report. It can be nonfiction or fiction. It’s your choice, but you’ll need to tell me a title by Friday. I’ll have to approve it. So, figure out what you plan to read. We’ll go to the library on Thursday to look at books to get ideas,” Mrs. Tilley tells the class.

She glances at her wristwatch again, continuing to speak to the class, “I’ve a couple of announcements to make. If any of you are interested in writing one thousand words of nonfiction or fiction for the Tilley Writing contest, entries are due on November first. The winner will receive fifty dollars. The topic can be about anything. Come see me for details if you’re interested. And, finally please join the Forensics club. Forensics is a speech competition.”

I want to know more Forensics, but my mind turns again to the writing contest. I can’t wait to start writing my idea! I am going to write about my first day at my new school. What a great idea! My mind starts spinning in circles. How can I do all of this homework and write a story too? Can I do it? How can I write at home without a computer? Maybe Dad will allow me to use his? Would Mom and Dad let me use the computer at night? So many questions are in my mind. It’s hard growing up. I realize now that I am not the same person from a few hours ago. I am an adolescent with responsibilities.

The bell rings, interrupting Mrs. Tilley’s announcements. The class starts to leave, but Mrs. Tilley says, “Sit back down, people. I didn’t dismiss you.”

The students sit back in their seats.

It makes me laugh, but Mrs. Tilley says, “Class is dismissed.”

The class begins to pick up their books and notebooks before exiting the classroom.

Mrs. Day starts to exchange the Morse code metal contraption for the electric wheelchair head array, but Mrs. Tilley stops her.

Mrs. Tilley says, “Mrs. Day, don’t take Rich off the computer just yet. I want to show him something on the Internet. Please give us a half hour alone together.”

“Fine, see you later, Rich. I’ll be back for you in awhile,” Mrs. Day replies.

“Okay, Dee. Bye,” I say, after she puts my spiral English notebook and the white paperback novel in my backpack. I watch Dee leave the classroom.

Someone slaps me hard on my shoulder, making jump. My cousin John laughs saying, “Teacher’s pet. I’ll see you tomorrow, dude.”

“Okay, cousin,” I say.

John runs out of the classroom, pretending to do a layup in the doorway, touching the wooden doorframe with his left hand. “The King scores again!” he shouts in the hallway.

I am laughing when Timmy walks up to me saying, “John won’t ever make a layup in his life!”

“I know,” I say, still giggling.

Timmy says, “Let’s play hoops at John’s house this weekend. I’ll bring the Snicker bars and some ice cold Pepsi. You can be the referee calling fouls on the King. After he fouls out in three minutes, you can toss him out of the game.”

“Okay,” I say, grinning from ear to ear.

“See you, tomorrow,” Timmy says, running out of the classroom.

“Yeah,” I say in a loud voice while I laugh.

I turn my head to see Mark and Chad, standing in front of me with Amy behind them. My mind wonders what the two boys want. It scares me at first to have the boys who called me names and bad words facing me, but Mrs. Tilley sits at her desk, working on her computer. I know that I am safe here, but I am still afraid!

The boys say in weak voices, “We’re sorry for what we said to you. We didn’t think how our words might hurt you. We’re sorry. Please forgive us.”

“It’s okay. No big deal. I want to be friends with you,” I say.

“Okay, we would like that, too,” Chad and Mark both answers. The two boys walk out of the classroom with their heads lowered feeling ashamed of their actions.

I just accept the dirty names and the foul language as a part of having Cerebral palsy. I treasure the rare friendships I do have like with Amy and Timmy.

“I’ll see you, tomorrow,” Amy says to me.

“Bye, Amy,” I answer, flashing my famous smile at her. It thrills me to know that Amy likes me and wants to be my friend!

“I’ll see you at home, Mrs. Tilley,” Amy replies, as she starts to walk out of the classroom.

“Thank you, Amy. I’ll fix lasagna for supper tonight: your favorite,” Mrs. Tilley says.

Amy leaves Mrs. Tilley and me alone in the room.