Different Is Good

I have to write. I just can’t shut up. This week one of my students mainstreamed for the first time. I was looking forward to sending him to P.E. with the general education students. In the afternoon I assigned one of my paraprofessional’s to take him to P.E. while I stayed in the classroom and finished some paperwork. When I could finally break free I slipped out of the room to check on them.

When I reached the field my student and para were jogging around the field with a hoard of 1st graders. My poor para was being a sport and keeping up with the first graders as they enthusiastically sprinted the ¼ mile. I was horrified and apologetic for putting her in a position where she had to run in 95 degree heat. Fortunately she forgave me.

Anyway, when the running was over the kids huddled up; waiting for instructions on what to do next. At this time I joined the group and tried to look teacher like and full of authority. Instantaneously I was surrounded by gaping 1st graders. One boy sheepishly spoke for the group. “You have really long legs … and … um … short arms”. I looked at him quizzically while I tried to interpret what it was he was actually trying to say.

“Oh! You mean my neck? I have really long legs and a short neck?” The entire group of 1st graders nodded and smiled in unison. I had successfully cracked the code. Inwardly I shriveled. I hated this topic. Visions of childhood abuse and disdain flooded through me and my knees sagged. By now the other teachers had joined the group and were all looking at me expectedly. I had to speak. Ironic. I had spent several days preparing an ability awareness lesson I planned on delivering to the first graders at the end of the month. The purpose of the lesson is to teach “different is good”. Well time to bite the bullet and practice what I preach.

“Well kids”. Little monsters. “My neck is so short because I have a disability”. Or I’m an alien. On my planet everyone has no neck and we eat small children instead of vegetables. They all looked at me horrified. I dropped to one knee and smiled warmly from the heat of the bile rising in my throat. “It’s ok. It doesn’t hurt. It just makes me different and different is good”. There was a tense pause as their little first grade minds processed this information. Then the hoard grinned and nodded. “Different is good” some of them repeated. “Each of us has a spine that runs up our back”. Mine is yellow. “The spine is made up of a lot of different bones. When I was born some of my bones were missing. So, now I have a short neck”. And it’s such a joy to be discussing this with you. I made eye contact with the other teachers who smiled sheepishly. I winked encouragingly at them. They smiled back and started gathering the kids together. As we all walked back class together my student was in the middle of pack, surrounded by his peers who considered him one of their own. I, on the other hand, was in the back of the line. A smaller group of 1st graders had attached themselves to me. Little hands grabbed my pockets, belt loops, legs, and hands. Apparently different was good enough. I am now their disabled friend.

In our district we have had a series of abduction attempts by two sleaze balls trying to lure young girls into their cars. The elementary schools are on high alert and the Principals are holding “Stranger Danger” talks in the cafeteria. Our class eats lunch in our classroom because the cafeteria is still to overwhelming for my kids. Our staff didn’t know anything about the talk. My paras were returning from breaks reporting that they were being accosted in the halls by young children pointing at them and yelling “Stranger Danger”. The paras have badges and will start wearing them soon. I do not yet have a badge, but oddly enough I am not being accosted. We have determined that I am being mistaken for a 5th grader.

This week blows.