Room Six

ROOM SIX

Lee Elementary School San Diego, CA June/July: (Summer Session) 2002

Dedicated to: Jessica, Kendall, Raul, Martin and Manuel

The morning drive to work was not too hard, not too easy: just another fast puzzle through the San Diego streets and freeways for a transient substitute teacher like me. No way to live, but a living.

There are 12 kids in the classroom and three adult “aides”. I am the only “certified” teacher, but the three others know what to do. They tell me and I do it.

They have the kids pretty well trained because they have the same kids during the regular session. I will fit in as well as I can and do as they do. The full-time aides are Sylvia and Christina—Paul the Therapist stops in on Thursdays for a short time.

Both of the ladies are “take charge” ladies, so I hope my four weeks of paid work will be interesting.

The kids have been trained to be fairly well behaved. I think my job is to observe—help out a little and mainly stay out of the way. I can do it.

The kids are mentally handicapped. One is a wheel-chair case—she has a permanent aide, Virginia, assigned to take care of her.

The classroom is large with a sink and fridge and plenty of books and supplies.

I note they are trying to teach one of the kids I work with to write right-handed when she is a natural “lefty’. Well, no-one can do much in four weeks when the whole scene has been beaurocraticised and solidified. For me this will be more practice with patience, perseverance and good heart.

Here are the dramatis personae:

Joseph: four years old. Black. Noisy outbursts. Can’t control fingers. Sometimes his grandma comes to help out.

Ashley: three years old. Mexican. Mimics others but little fine coordination. Can’t or won’t talk.
Christian: two years old. (Youngest in class) Noisy. Class clown. Physically OK.

Jasmine: five years old. Black. Craves constant attention. Wants to be “teacher”. Follows suggestions. Often absent.

Martin: six years old. Mexican. Class leader. Smarter than the rest. Sees the “joke” of being in this tiny group of “special” students where he can get away with murder.

Raul: five years old. Mexican. A happy fatty. Babyish. Unhealthy.

Danielle: four years old. White with tan skin. Very handicapped. Big and strong and unwilling to cooperate with teachers or other children.

David: two years old. White. Noisy with sudden loud sounds. Round head. Sturdy build. Will obey others but not me.

Brittany: six years old. Very handicapped. In wheelchair with full-time aide. No talk- No movement.

Kendall: (No age given) Black. Glasses. Out of control. Shoves everybody. Laughs like a maniac.

Jessica: (no age given) Mexican. Very tall. Spaced out most of the time. Older than the rest. Very physically handicapped.

Everyone arrives late every morning. I am the only one on time so I open the classroom at 8:50 and wait. The less I do—the better it goes!

When Christian and Ashley arrive at about 9:15 and are fooling around, I ask them to “Stay off the couch, please.” Naturally they both jump onto the couch and start bouncing around. Human nature blooms so early!

Friday July 12, 2002: I am waiting in the classroom for the children and aides to arrive. Again I am in a job where I dread each day. Another LONG day of trying to keep kids occupied at tasks they for the most part hate with all their hearts—and so do I.

All of this Education”—designed to make these young people all alike—is not good for them or for me.

Here they come-- shuffling their feet.

. . .

Trying to teach these mentally handicapped children the usual scholastic rubbish is totally futile. They are mostly not prepared to read or write at any level. For these children, the alphabet, numbers, the days of the week and so forth, are meaningless concepts for them.

They should be allowed play in a rich environment with adults’ sensitive to their evolving comprehension—that encourages and motivates—not just controls them.

The only way a person learns self-control is through practice. If a child is constantly bossed and told what to do and when to do it, not only will he not learn self-control but he must either someday revolt or become a robot—and in this situation the robotization alternative is definitely the one preferred.

July 17, Wednesday: The two most haywire children—a brother and sister—start crying, hitting themselves on the head and generally being totally out of self-control making it impossible for any ”normal” classroom activities to continue for anyone.

I help by taking most of the children outside to play until the parents of the two can come take them home.

As an almost untrained outsider, there is a huge amount of information I don’t have, about what REALLY makes this classroom go and what is just bureaucratic foolishness (like trying to get the kids to write their own names) and how the other adults involved relate to the whole thing.

For example, the family with the above brother and sister are Filipinos. There are four children in the family. One, born in the Philippines, is normally bright—the three born in the USA are all mentally and physically handicapped to a greater or lesser degree—I really wonder why these adults continue to make babies.

Tomasito, 2008

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