+of+DSCN0521.JPG)
The man, like me, was middle aged. We were both old to be students, but the school accepted us, and we were both grateful. He was studying to be some sort of engineer. He lived in student housing and seemed fine with with having five hundred very young men and women from around the world as roommates. He had been married, had teen aged daughters, and was negotiating some sort of angry divorce. He spent his weekends in one of his professors’ lab. He had been some sort of highly skilled technician, had seriously hurt himself at work, and the company was paying for his retraining. The man was delirious with joy; he couldn’t believe they’d pay to make him an engineer. He had been doing okay in his classes and was happy. He knew how to do whatever it was he did, and he was a passionate student. The problem was that now he had to pass the Writing Competency Test, and he could not. He was taking a series of academic writing classes that would take the place of the test if he passed them all. At the beginning of his last class, he appeared at my table in the Writing Center. Essentially he still had to pass the test at the class final.
I may actually never have known his name. He was Persian; I’m sure I saw it in passing. I’m sure it was strange and unpronounceable. I did not care; getting him through those classes became a hopeless crusade. I did not think he could pass, and I was sorry for him because he was so determined to do this thing I was pretty sure he could not do. Again, I was faced with a foreigner with whatever experience they brought with them, trying to pass that damned test. This man only had one story. No matter what the assignment was, he told the same story in the same horrendous English.
He was a Baathist. He told me about over and over how gentle and peaceful his religion was, how much the Ayatollah’s people hated them. His people were hated by other Persians; he had been forced to leave school in third grade. I used to wonder whether his lack of educations was what made it impossible for him to read the prompt and write about it, no matter how badly. He told his one story over and over again. Was the assignment to read and compare and contrast two essays on the influence of TV advertising on the young minds? He read the prompt, underlined things in the essays, and then told his story.
At first, I calmly explained to him that he needed to read the prompt, make sure he understood it, read the material no matter how long it took, figure out a one sentence response to the prompt, figure out four sentences that led to the thesis sentence, and write the essay. No five paragraph essays allowed. I don’t want to see a five paragraph essay in any form: 8 page five paragraph essay, personal narrative five paragraph essay, no five paragraph essays. What is a five paragraph essay? You don’t know? Good, one problem down. By the way, spend the 50 cents, or go to the library. You’re on campus all the time anyway, and read the editorial pages in the Los Angeles Times. You don’t have to understand them or agree with them. Just read them. You’ll get the rhythm of formal English in your head. Forget the story. I don’t want to see that story again. He laughed. I went over it in detail again and again. I did not think he could do it. I liked the man; his story was first person and fascinating like all the first person stories I heard from all over the world. He said okay. He would see me in two days.
He had two standing one hour appointments with me a week. He made the standing appointment early in the quarter to make sure he got them. He got the hour because he had a disability, I think.
No,no. Read that sentence. What does it say? Do you see your father’s name in there anywhere? Then don’t write that story again. The point of telling a story is to communicate it. I know that story. If you want to pass this class, you have to write about the influence of media images on women’s identities in Western culture! When you come back, that’s what I want to see! I can tell you about grammar problems, but what difference does it make if you don’t follow the prompt! Okay, let’s talk about it. What is the essay about?
Two hours a week after my regular job and before my class or after my class or instead of a class, week after week for two years. I yelled at him; people turned around and looked at us. At one point a woman sitting at one of the computers turned around and told me to be quiet; she was trying to work. I looked up at her, stunned. Where did she think she was? It was too much trouble to deal with her; I lowered my voice. When I got loud again, she went to the counter and complained. The Director told her this was a tutoring center; not a computer lab. I was tutoring. If she wanted quiet, she needed to find a lab.
The man’s story was this. His family was the wrong religion, Baathists. The rest of Iran hated his people. The Ayatollah’s police made their lives very hard, but they did the best they could. They were very poor. One day, his beloved father was working outside their house. The police came and killed him in front of his family, hitting him over the head with a club so hard that one blow killed him. It was very fast. The man was a teenager, and he saw it. There lives were even harder after that.
That was his one and only story, no matter what the prompt. It was the first thing he told me. I tortured him and yelled at him and wrote quick outlines on margins of the story about his father that did not respond to the prompt. Sometimes, I thought he was irreducibly dumb; sometimes I thought his lack of education had prevented him from learning to think the way students and teachers think. I knew he was traumatized, but so were lots of people I saw. He drove me nuts. I felt very sorry for him that he was so happy to be in school and so innocent. This was not Harvard, but I did not see him getting his engineering degree. He broke my heart.
Then he disappeared.
Once in a while I wondered what had happened to him. I figured he’d finally left, failed. Then one day, I saw him working with another tutor. Jealousy is not my thing, but I was jealous. He had been my project. Then he disappeared again. I forgot about him.
One night, I was sitting at my table, with my little name plate, and he came in, sat down as if he’d never left. He was leaning on a cane, hard. I said, What happened; where have you been? He put his essay on the table and told me in his heavy accent that he had hurt himself and been in the hospital. He had been in a lot of pain and still was, but thank god, he was back. By the way, he’d graduated. He passed the test, and since engineering didn’t involve a lot of writing, he was fine, and now he was working on his Masters. Had I gotten my flowers? I said, No, what flowers? He pointed to a huge, elaborate bouquet on the counter. I said, O, they are beautiful. He picked up his books and papers and said he would be back. I went to work with a student on the computer and forgot about him. When I got back to my table there was a stunning, unique decorated black vase full of black roses. No note, nothing. I figured I’d thank him when he got back, but he never came back. I ran into him a long time later with his teen aged daughters in the library. He paid for my copies.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Charlie
Well, we have another medication, and this kid is really fragile. He’s starting next week in Nancy’s room. I don’t know how they expect us to do all this. It’s too much for you.
Nurse Susie talked across her desk, reading paperwork, at Mollie. Mollie knew she could do whatever it was, and Susie would never wonder again if this particular child was too much work for Mollie. Susie talked like this every time a new kid came in as if she had never heard of a child with severe disabilities, and she was seriously interested in how much of what Mollie could do. Every assistant Susie had had in ten years left as soon as she could, except Mollie. Mollie had been in the Health Office at Melrose Special Education Center for five years. Since Susie fell apart, called Mollie at home, and spread guilt like peanut butter all over Mollie if she took a day off, Mollie had a reputation for terrific attendance. She could pretty well read Susie’s mind by this point which also aggravated Susie. Mollie knew that nothing Susie said or Mollie might think meant anything about any child until the kid actually showed up on the schedule and then in the office. Then the child would be real with a real syndrome, real things to look for, and a real protocol. Mollie said nothing.
Charlie did finally appear some days later with his mother to be examined by Dr. Han. The little boy and his very quiet mother sat on a bench in the main office until Dr. Han rushed in late through the outside door, apologizing. Mollie had put a sign on the office door ordering all and sundry to stay out; the doctor was in. Mollie had cleared off her tiny desk, put her paperwork all over one of the cots and her few personal possessions on various surfaces around the office. Nurse Susie put Charlie’s file, Q tips, 2x2s, a pen, health record forms, a little stainless steel coffin of alcohol swabs, and various other small items on the desk. . Dr. Han tried to look medical, professional, and friendly at Mollie’s desk. She sat in Mollie’s sprung rolling office chair and tried to communicate with Mrs. Segura, Charlie’s mom, who sat on the chair next to Nurse Susie’s desk that the kids sat on when they had a bumped head, bruise, or a pain in the leg that would turn out to be bone cancer.
Dr. Han asked Mrs. Segura how much Charlie weighed at birth, when he walked and talked. She asked mom whether Charlie was born early. Mollie translated because Mrs. Segura only spoke Spanish. Charlie stood quietly between his mother’s legs with his huge head on a kindergartener’s body. When Mollie had finished tube feeding Melissa, she put the syringe and the tube on the try in front of the cot, closed off Melissa’s stoma, peeled off her gloves, stood up, took Melissa’s hands, and helped her down from the cot. Holding Melissa’s hand, she found the bright orange slinky, put it between Charlie’s hands, and showed him how it worked. Charlie bounced the slinky up and down with interest.
Charlie, the doctor is going to look at you to make sure you’re all right to start school. You’ll like this school. Mrs. Levin is really nice, and you’ll have lots of friends. Dr. Han will not hurt you at all. We don’t hurt people in this nurse’s office.
Mollie smiled at Charlie’s mom, took Charlie by the hand and put his hand in Dr. Han’s. She then took Melissa out of the room. After that, Charlie came on the bus with all the other children. His assistant walked him to the kitchen and helped him choose his breakfast. Every morning, he said, Hi, Miss Elena, and Elena said, Hi, Charlie, took his ticket and handed him his box. Like every child in the school, he carried his breakfast to his room following the hallway the same way every day to his room, found his place and ate either the hot breakfast or cold cereal. Charlie fit right in, and he was happy.
Charlie was a bright, affectionate, funny little boy who learned to read very fast. He sounded out the signs on the bulletin board in the health office when he came for his medication. He knew to go see Miss Mollie when the bell rang for the end of recess. Charlie made silly kindergarten jokes while Mollie poured water into a little paper cup and handed it to him. While Mollie carefully counted out his pills from the locked cabinet into another little cup, he balanced his water on his huge head. Look, Miss Mollie, look! Oh, my heavens, you really are silly. Here you go. Charlie always insisted on taking the pills by himself. Mollie held the cup in front of him, and he picked them out one by one, put them in his mouth, and swallowed them with the water he had removed from the top of his head.
Charlie was world famous. He was the only child in the world at that time to have the very rare syndrome that was taking his sight, his hearing and his breathing. Charlie never lay down, even to sleep. He was not permitted to sleep with h is head against the glass on the long ride home at the end of the day like all the other kids. He wore hearing aids. The batteries went out all the time. Then Charlie came to the office; Mollie gave him the new battery, and he replaced it with h is tiny fingers and put it back in his ear. He carefully adjusted it, and when he was satisfied, he went back to class.
Mollie did not bother to look up his syndrome; she never did. The kids were who they were; their various disabilities were part of life; they did not define the children. She always knew what to look for, though and what to do, what special orders each child had, and when to call Nurse Susie. She sometimes looked at Charlie and hoped he could live to be thirty, but she didn’t know. If he lived long enough, he would be deaf and blind, but he could learn Braille and Sign. He could go to college; he could marry; he could live. That was what Melrose school did
His teacher taught Open Court for two hours every day like every other district reading teacher. Charlie would take the same tests; he would probably be a little behind; they would penalize the school for that. They would send a letter to Charlie’s mother, telling her he was behind. Melrose school would not have shown sufficient yearly progress. At least Charlie would be able to see the pictures a little. Most of the kids couldn’t.
Charlie played the lead elf in the Spring Musical. He wore a green felt vest and a green peaked hat and took his turn holding the microphone to sing his solo. The musical got a standing ovation; videos were taken for sale to the parents; Mollie and the historian, Ellie, took pictures to post on bulletin boards and send home to parents. Mollie knew Ellie kept the archives, whatever they were. Mollie was curious; someone always kept the archives, but no one ever seemed to see them. The music teacher got flowers, and awards were given for attendance and most improved. The preschoolers left early to go home.
Charlie’s mother took him home after the production so Mollie did not give him his pills that day. A few days later, the big kids had Culmination and a dance that everybody was invited to. Charlie sat on the floor, ate chips, and covered his face with chocolate cake. Mollie took a picture. He danced with Mollie and Mrs. Levin.
Everyone in the school but the preschoolers waited for the last day, and it finally came. The preschoolers cried; they cried at every change, Winter Break, wind, workmen in the hall. School ended, but Charlie and all the kids would be back in two weeks for summer school. There would be water play on Fridays and trips to the park. The teacher in room 9 would take out the snow cone machine and put it in the lunch pavilion on Fridays at lunch. Some of the rooms would make ice cream in mayonnaise jars.
The first day of summer school, Charlie’s mom called to say he would have to start in a few days. He was in the hospital, but he would be out soon. Nurse Susie and Miss Levin went to see him. He was having a little trouble breathing, but he would be home soon. He was happy to see his teachers and made silly summer school jokes. Mollie waited. There were several children at Melrose with breathing problems who were hospitalized sometimes. Other children were hospitalized for a few days here or there. Their medications were adjusted, or they couldn’t play rough games for a few days. Maybe electrolytes had to be balanced, or they needed a little more chemo. Mollie did not worry.
Then one morning when Mollie came in, Nurse Susie was sitting at her desk crying. Her desk was surrounded by all her friends from the VI program. They were talking quietly. As usual, they ignored Mollie. Mollie immediately knew what had happened. Susie rarely told Mollie anything, but Mollie always pretty much knew. Nearly the whole staff went to Charlie’s funeral, but Mollie stayed in the Health Office for the kids. Charlie’s mom came in, ashen, to pick up his things. She came into the Health office and handed Mollie a box. It was a blue woven runner for her table from Charlie’s mom’s country. Mollie said, I’m so sorry. Mom shook her head.
Nurse Susie retired at Christmas. The new nurse relied on Mollie for the first year because she had never worked in special ed before. Mollie puts the blue runner over her white table cloth for the various holiday meals. She always remembers Charlie then, his white faced mother. Mom had known it was coming; so had Nurse Susie; so had Mollie, sort of.
Nurse Susie talked across her desk, reading paperwork, at Mollie. Mollie knew she could do whatever it was, and Susie would never wonder again if this particular child was too much work for Mollie. Susie talked like this every time a new kid came in as if she had never heard of a child with severe disabilities, and she was seriously interested in how much of what Mollie could do. Every assistant Susie had had in ten years left as soon as she could, except Mollie. Mollie had been in the Health Office at Melrose Special Education Center for five years. Since Susie fell apart, called Mollie at home, and spread guilt like peanut butter all over Mollie if she took a day off, Mollie had a reputation for terrific attendance. She could pretty well read Susie’s mind by this point which also aggravated Susie. Mollie knew that nothing Susie said or Mollie might think meant anything about any child until the kid actually showed up on the schedule and then in the office. Then the child would be real with a real syndrome, real things to look for, and a real protocol. Mollie said nothing.
Charlie did finally appear some days later with his mother to be examined by Dr. Han. The little boy and his very quiet mother sat on a bench in the main office until Dr. Han rushed in late through the outside door, apologizing. Mollie had put a sign on the office door ordering all and sundry to stay out; the doctor was in. Mollie had cleared off her tiny desk, put her paperwork all over one of the cots and her few personal possessions on various surfaces around the office. Nurse Susie put Charlie’s file, Q tips, 2x2s, a pen, health record forms, a little stainless steel coffin of alcohol swabs, and various other small items on the desk. . Dr. Han tried to look medical, professional, and friendly at Mollie’s desk. She sat in Mollie’s sprung rolling office chair and tried to communicate with Mrs. Segura, Charlie’s mom, who sat on the chair next to Nurse Susie’s desk that the kids sat on when they had a bumped head, bruise, or a pain in the leg that would turn out to be bone cancer.
Dr. Han asked Mrs. Segura how much Charlie weighed at birth, when he walked and talked. She asked mom whether Charlie was born early. Mollie translated because Mrs. Segura only spoke Spanish. Charlie stood quietly between his mother’s legs with his huge head on a kindergartener’s body. When Mollie had finished tube feeding Melissa, she put the syringe and the tube on the try in front of the cot, closed off Melissa’s stoma, peeled off her gloves, stood up, took Melissa’s hands, and helped her down from the cot. Holding Melissa’s hand, she found the bright orange slinky, put it between Charlie’s hands, and showed him how it worked. Charlie bounced the slinky up and down with interest.
Charlie, the doctor is going to look at you to make sure you’re all right to start school. You’ll like this school. Mrs. Levin is really nice, and you’ll have lots of friends. Dr. Han will not hurt you at all. We don’t hurt people in this nurse’s office.
Mollie smiled at Charlie’s mom, took Charlie by the hand and put his hand in Dr. Han’s. She then took Melissa out of the room. After that, Charlie came on the bus with all the other children. His assistant walked him to the kitchen and helped him choose his breakfast. Every morning, he said, Hi, Miss Elena, and Elena said, Hi, Charlie, took his ticket and handed him his box. Like every child in the school, he carried his breakfast to his room following the hallway the same way every day to his room, found his place and ate either the hot breakfast or cold cereal. Charlie fit right in, and he was happy.
Charlie was a bright, affectionate, funny little boy who learned to read very fast. He sounded out the signs on the bulletin board in the health office when he came for his medication. He knew to go see Miss Mollie when the bell rang for the end of recess. Charlie made silly kindergarten jokes while Mollie poured water into a little paper cup and handed it to him. While Mollie carefully counted out his pills from the locked cabinet into another little cup, he balanced his water on his huge head. Look, Miss Mollie, look! Oh, my heavens, you really are silly. Here you go. Charlie always insisted on taking the pills by himself. Mollie held the cup in front of him, and he picked them out one by one, put them in his mouth, and swallowed them with the water he had removed from the top of his head.
Charlie was world famous. He was the only child in the world at that time to have the very rare syndrome that was taking his sight, his hearing and his breathing. Charlie never lay down, even to sleep. He was not permitted to sleep with h is head against the glass on the long ride home at the end of the day like all the other kids. He wore hearing aids. The batteries went out all the time. Then Charlie came to the office; Mollie gave him the new battery, and he replaced it with h is tiny fingers and put it back in his ear. He carefully adjusted it, and when he was satisfied, he went back to class.
Mollie did not bother to look up his syndrome; she never did. The kids were who they were; their various disabilities were part of life; they did not define the children. She always knew what to look for, though and what to do, what special orders each child had, and when to call Nurse Susie. She sometimes looked at Charlie and hoped he could live to be thirty, but she didn’t know. If he lived long enough, he would be deaf and blind, but he could learn Braille and Sign. He could go to college; he could marry; he could live. That was what Melrose school did
His teacher taught Open Court for two hours every day like every other district reading teacher. Charlie would take the same tests; he would probably be a little behind; they would penalize the school for that. They would send a letter to Charlie’s mother, telling her he was behind. Melrose school would not have shown sufficient yearly progress. At least Charlie would be able to see the pictures a little. Most of the kids couldn’t.
Charlie played the lead elf in the Spring Musical. He wore a green felt vest and a green peaked hat and took his turn holding the microphone to sing his solo. The musical got a standing ovation; videos were taken for sale to the parents; Mollie and the historian, Ellie, took pictures to post on bulletin boards and send home to parents. Mollie knew Ellie kept the archives, whatever they were. Mollie was curious; someone always kept the archives, but no one ever seemed to see them. The music teacher got flowers, and awards were given for attendance and most improved. The preschoolers left early to go home.
Charlie’s mother took him home after the production so Mollie did not give him his pills that day. A few days later, the big kids had Culmination and a dance that everybody was invited to. Charlie sat on the floor, ate chips, and covered his face with chocolate cake. Mollie took a picture. He danced with Mollie and Mrs. Levin.
Everyone in the school but the preschoolers waited for the last day, and it finally came. The preschoolers cried; they cried at every change, Winter Break, wind, workmen in the hall. School ended, but Charlie and all the kids would be back in two weeks for summer school. There would be water play on Fridays and trips to the park. The teacher in room 9 would take out the snow cone machine and put it in the lunch pavilion on Fridays at lunch. Some of the rooms would make ice cream in mayonnaise jars.
The first day of summer school, Charlie’s mom called to say he would have to start in a few days. He was in the hospital, but he would be out soon. Nurse Susie and Miss Levin went to see him. He was having a little trouble breathing, but he would be home soon. He was happy to see his teachers and made silly summer school jokes. Mollie waited. There were several children at Melrose with breathing problems who were hospitalized sometimes. Other children were hospitalized for a few days here or there. Their medications were adjusted, or they couldn’t play rough games for a few days. Maybe electrolytes had to be balanced, or they needed a little more chemo. Mollie did not worry.
Then one morning when Mollie came in, Nurse Susie was sitting at her desk crying. Her desk was surrounded by all her friends from the VI program. They were talking quietly. As usual, they ignored Mollie. Mollie immediately knew what had happened. Susie rarely told Mollie anything, but Mollie always pretty much knew. Nearly the whole staff went to Charlie’s funeral, but Mollie stayed in the Health Office for the kids. Charlie’s mom came in, ashen, to pick up his things. She came into the Health office and handed Mollie a box. It was a blue woven runner for her table from Charlie’s mom’s country. Mollie said, I’m so sorry. Mom shook her head.
Nurse Susie retired at Christmas. The new nurse relied on Mollie for the first year because she had never worked in special ed before. Mollie puts the blue runner over her white table cloth for the various holiday meals. She always remembers Charlie then, his white faced mother. Mom had known it was coming; so had Nurse Susie; so had Mollie, sort of.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
The Truth
The truth doesn't care what you think (Saletan, William, Not Black and White, Slate online, May 5, 2008)
Saturday, May 24, 2008
House Across from the Restaurant Supply in May
We bought a scooper for chicharrones
an electronic meat thermometer
a mandolin (cheap and good)
a stainless steel slotted spoon
a red plastic ashtray
my brother can sit on the lounge chair in the deck garden and smoke
I forget what else.
It came out to about $35.00 with winking discount
and taxes
Friday, May 23, 2008
Mollie's Breakdown
. Mollie waited trying to look competent. In fact she knew she knew she was competent. Still, she was nervous. Mrs. Isaacs, the new principal, stood a few feet away, smiling. This really rattled Mollie. She had been meeting these buses for thirteen years and could have taken the kids to class with no more vision than any of them had, but today, she was rattled and trying to look as if she had some clue what she was supposed to do. Jaime got off the bus crying bitterly. Mollie took his hand and headed for the next bus telling him he was fine. He was fine but she was a mess. She picked up little Carlos next. He had been in school the year before and clearly already knew he hated her. For the time being that seemed to be it. She walked the two boys up the ramp to room 6. Jaime was still crying bitterly under his ball cap.
Mollie went to the chaotic teacher’s desk, opened the first drawer her eyes fell on, grabbed a red marker and a green marker, walked over to the weeping three year old and furious four year old, handed each a marker, walked them over to her grandson’s cardboard Spongebob tent and, with a third marker, started to color in the great sponge. Jaime, stunned, stopped crying and immediately began joyously scribbling. Carlos immediately followed suit. Mollie breathed a sigh of relief. She looked up as her assistant, Sheila, walked in with Milton. Mollie grabbed another marker, walked over to Milton, handed him the marker, took him by the hand, and introduced him to the two other boys who ignored both him and each other. Milton joined the two silently scribbling boys. Mollie asked Sheila to please go to the kitchen and pick up their breakfasts.
Mollie had been hired at the school only because they could find no on to take on Albert, who had very severe, violent autism. No one wanted to work with Albert, and no one wanted to hire Mollie, so the two of them found each other and fell in love. Eventually some idiot decided that Mollie needed to be protected from the violent little boy and turned him over to a behaviorist and promoted Mollie to classroom assistant. It took Mollie six years to finish her degree.
She went to class five days a week after work from 4:20 to 8:00. She tutored on Saturdays and whatever pitiful studying she did was done on Sundays. So were papers and whatever. She maintained her home, more or less, and cooked nearly every night. She did not go out to breakfast ever, and she stopped all grocery shopping. She did not see friends or go to parties. She was very happy and maintained an A average. She never really expected to finish, and when she did, she was more or less stunned. Now she had to pretend for the first time in years that she had some idea what she was doing.
By May every one of her children was talking. They asked for goldfish, cookies and juice over water or milk. She had a huge can of Cheerios that had been reserved for punishment until the boys decided they preferred Cheerios to goldfish or cookies and said so. They talked to each other, played fort in the playhouse, could identify all the characters in Peter and the Wolf from their themes, and yelled her name joyously just to hear her say, yes? without looking up. She usually sat outside with the kids at recess because she liked the kids’ company.
Late in May, she called her doctor’s office to change the appointment they had set without consulting her sitting on a chair on the patio at recess. The boys pulled off geranium leaves, ran over to her telling her the names of the various petal colors. She changed the appointment and forgot about it. The kids came in, had their very loud and silly snack. Now they all had words in each others’ languages and Jaime came in the morning, checked out the books lying out, picked up one that interested him and sat on the chair in the sunny open door and quietly looked at it . Mollie went to the library every week and chose the books for interest and great covers.
On the scheduled afternoon in June, she left her room on time instead of staying to talk to her friend or sorting paper or whatever. She drove three miles to her doctor’s office, checked in, sat down in the waiting room, picked up a decorating magazine and waited. And waited and waited. Finally, the great man appeared. He said nothing; he did not gesture. She stood up, put down the magazine, picked up her bag, walked quickly across the room and said, hello doctor. He, oddly, said nothing. He turned and walked down the hall in front of her. When he got to his door, he took out his key, looked down at her, and said, What is it like outside? She responded, really nice; it’s going to rain, but it’s lovely. He said, lovely to himself, not looking at her. He opened the door, walked across the room, and stood, saying nothing at all. Mollie, surprised, began talking about nothing much. She was utterly confused. She did not hire doctors to be great men and did not expect them to be great men. In fact, she occasionally wondered how hard it could really be to get through medical school.
Suddenly, she was on the floor weeping about the tragedy of her childhood. No one had ever shown the least interest in her painful childhood before even though for years, she had been almost obsessed with it, and in some way she was always deeply lonely. Next, she was sitting on a chair babbling again. The man was standing in a corner of a room evidently pretending to take notes. Finally, he evidently decided on his own that it was time for her to leave. She went out the door joking feebly about being crazy. He smiled with amusement and said, See you in six months.
Mollie walked over to the parking lot pulled her new five speed out of the parking spot, onto the street and home. To add insult to injury, it was traffic hour, Mollie had to park two blocks from her building. It took her forever driving in circles to find the spot, and she was grateful for it. She walked home, let herself in ate a snack, and started dinner. She went back to work the following Monday and finished the year with a superb review from Mrs. Isaacson.
Mollie called the office three days later and tried to leave her doctor a message to call her. The incredibly rude and ignorant young man she found herself talking to told her the great man was on vacation and made it very clear the he would not welcome a message. She left one anyway, but he did not return her call. The Summer went by. Mollie had not actually seen a summer in some years. She ate breakfast in a great little restaurant with her daughter. She saw two terrific exhibits at the art museum and considered joining. She played in the pool with her grandson and took pictures. She roasted corn from the farmers’ market. She screwed around in the kitchen making messes that drove her family to distraction. Where was the old chile con queso? No more slowly simmered vegetables, please.
In the fall, she had more seriously disabled preschoolers, and she had a ball. They stopped whining, lying on the floor and stimming. They learned to listen to Peter and the Wolf. They smiled getting off the bus and cried when they left. Mollie took pictures. Then she got another one of those appointments for an hour that was out of the question. Mollie called the office again, got another customer service agent with the manners of a pig who told her she had an appointment at the time on the card. Molllie told him no, she did not. Find a time acceptable to her. He seemed stunned, but finally caught on and gave her the appointment. She asked him who he was. He did not respond. Mollie worked another month. She put out the school newsletter. Her little girl who was afraid to walk, walked. Her little boy who refused to eat, ate. The kids sat in circle and held their instruments. Life was beautiful, but Mollie decided she did not want to see the great man any more. She did not want to discuss it; she just wanted a different doctor without causing any concern on the part of the great man. She called the office and said she had decided she preferred a woman. The idiot male on the other end was stunned and had to be reminded that his job consisted of serving her. He seemed appalled at the idea. She threatened him. It took him several hours, but he finally managed to do what she asked. He said the great man would be notified. Mollie said she wanted no communication of any kind in regard to her from him to anyone. The idiot on the phone fainted. Then he said, We’ll see you then. She said to herself, Who the fuck are we?
Of course the great man called. He asked her what the problem might be? She told him she was surprised he needed to consult his notes. Could he explain her last appointment with him? He replied he didn’t remember it. She told him to call when he did, and by the way why hadn’t he returned her call? He said he had been on vacation. She asked him how he could go on vacation at a time like that, and where on earth did he get those savages who answered his phone, could not tell her who they were, and thought they had some sort of we relationship with her? He said he’d give her a woman doctor.
The woman doctor had a man’s name. She brusquely and authoritatively asked Mollie why she had changed doctors? Mollie told her. The doctor, a great woman, announced that the great man denied it had ever happened. Mollie said she supposed he did. The great woman said it was Mollie’s word against the great man, and he was the great man. Mollie said she had nothing whatever to say about that. The doctor asked more complex questions which Mollie answered with some complexity. The great woman stated that Mollie was yelling, wandering all over the place with her answers and any doctor would diagnose her as manic. Mollie again wondered how hard medical school could be, very reasonably responded that she was certainly willing to hear what the great woman had to say. Mollie needed to be careful. This doctor was telling her she was crazy. It was late; Mollie worked very hard and still had to cook dinner. She was suddenly very, very tired. The great woman strongly suggested that Mollie should contact the great man to clear up the misunderstanding. Mollie pointed out that he had had six months to straighten out any misunderstanding. The doctor said the great man had been unaware there was a problem, had not gotten his messages, and Mollie herself had insisted that she wanted no more contact with the great man. Mollie took the prescription for the very powerful antipsychotic the doctor prescribed, read the side effects and decided she actually had a constitutional right to be crazy if she wanted to.
She loved her husband, her children, her job and was generally very happy anywhere other than the doctors’ office. Before she decided to gain weight, gag on her food, take care of her students while fighting off dizziness, and carry a sanitary napkin and a change of clothes to protect herself when she had diarrhea. Meanwhile, s he’d look for another doctor.. Her family was happy with her, and she kept getting great reviews at her job. Her students loved to come to school, cried when they had to get on the bus and were learning. Of course, maybe she was delusional, but delusional people were rarely happy in her experience, so she’d wait until she was miserable
Mollie went to the chaotic teacher’s desk, opened the first drawer her eyes fell on, grabbed a red marker and a green marker, walked over to the weeping three year old and furious four year old, handed each a marker, walked them over to her grandson’s cardboard Spongebob tent and, with a third marker, started to color in the great sponge. Jaime, stunned, stopped crying and immediately began joyously scribbling. Carlos immediately followed suit. Mollie breathed a sigh of relief. She looked up as her assistant, Sheila, walked in with Milton. Mollie grabbed another marker, walked over to Milton, handed him the marker, took him by the hand, and introduced him to the two other boys who ignored both him and each other. Milton joined the two silently scribbling boys. Mollie asked Sheila to please go to the kitchen and pick up their breakfasts.
Mollie had been hired at the school only because they could find no on to take on Albert, who had very severe, violent autism. No one wanted to work with Albert, and no one wanted to hire Mollie, so the two of them found each other and fell in love. Eventually some idiot decided that Mollie needed to be protected from the violent little boy and turned him over to a behaviorist and promoted Mollie to classroom assistant. It took Mollie six years to finish her degree.
She went to class five days a week after work from 4:20 to 8:00. She tutored on Saturdays and whatever pitiful studying she did was done on Sundays. So were papers and whatever. She maintained her home, more or less, and cooked nearly every night. She did not go out to breakfast ever, and she stopped all grocery shopping. She did not see friends or go to parties. She was very happy and maintained an A average. She never really expected to finish, and when she did, she was more or less stunned. Now she had to pretend for the first time in years that she had some idea what she was doing.
By May every one of her children was talking. They asked for goldfish, cookies and juice over water or milk. She had a huge can of Cheerios that had been reserved for punishment until the boys decided they preferred Cheerios to goldfish or cookies and said so. They talked to each other, played fort in the playhouse, could identify all the characters in Peter and the Wolf from their themes, and yelled her name joyously just to hear her say, yes? without looking up. She usually sat outside with the kids at recess because she liked the kids’ company.
Late in May, she called her doctor’s office to change the appointment they had set without consulting her sitting on a chair on the patio at recess. The boys pulled off geranium leaves, ran over to her telling her the names of the various petal colors. She changed the appointment and forgot about it. The kids came in, had their very loud and silly snack. Now they all had words in each others’ languages and Jaime came in the morning, checked out the books lying out, picked up one that interested him and sat on the chair in the sunny open door and quietly looked at it . Mollie went to the library every week and chose the books for interest and great covers.
On the scheduled afternoon in June, she left her room on time instead of staying to talk to her friend or sorting paper or whatever. She drove three miles to her doctor’s office, checked in, sat down in the waiting room, picked up a decorating magazine and waited. And waited and waited. Finally, the great man appeared. He said nothing; he did not gesture. She stood up, put down the magazine, picked up her bag, walked quickly across the room and said, hello doctor. He, oddly, said nothing. He turned and walked down the hall in front of her. When he got to his door, he took out his key, looked down at her, and said, What is it like outside? She responded, really nice; it’s going to rain, but it’s lovely. He said, lovely to himself, not looking at her. He opened the door, walked across the room, and stood, saying nothing at all. Mollie, surprised, began talking about nothing much. She was utterly confused. She did not hire doctors to be great men and did not expect them to be great men. In fact, she occasionally wondered how hard it could really be to get through medical school.
Suddenly, she was on the floor weeping about the tragedy of her childhood. No one had ever shown the least interest in her painful childhood before even though for years, she had been almost obsessed with it, and in some way she was always deeply lonely. Next, she was sitting on a chair babbling again. The man was standing in a corner of a room evidently pretending to take notes. Finally, he evidently decided on his own that it was time for her to leave. She went out the door joking feebly about being crazy. He smiled with amusement and said, See you in six months.
Mollie walked over to the parking lot pulled her new five speed out of the parking spot, onto the street and home. To add insult to injury, it was traffic hour, Mollie had to park two blocks from her building. It took her forever driving in circles to find the spot, and she was grateful for it. She walked home, let herself in ate a snack, and started dinner. She went back to work the following Monday and finished the year with a superb review from Mrs. Isaacson.
Mollie called the office three days later and tried to leave her doctor a message to call her. The incredibly rude and ignorant young man she found herself talking to told her the great man was on vacation and made it very clear the he would not welcome a message. She left one anyway, but he did not return her call. The Summer went by. Mollie had not actually seen a summer in some years. She ate breakfast in a great little restaurant with her daughter. She saw two terrific exhibits at the art museum and considered joining. She played in the pool with her grandson and took pictures. She roasted corn from the farmers’ market. She screwed around in the kitchen making messes that drove her family to distraction. Where was the old chile con queso? No more slowly simmered vegetables, please.
In the fall, she had more seriously disabled preschoolers, and she had a ball. They stopped whining, lying on the floor and stimming. They learned to listen to Peter and the Wolf. They smiled getting off the bus and cried when they left. Mollie took pictures. Then she got another one of those appointments for an hour that was out of the question. Mollie called the office again, got another customer service agent with the manners of a pig who told her she had an appointment at the time on the card. Molllie told him no, she did not. Find a time acceptable to her. He seemed stunned, but finally caught on and gave her the appointment. She asked him who he was. He did not respond. Mollie worked another month. She put out the school newsletter. Her little girl who was afraid to walk, walked. Her little boy who refused to eat, ate. The kids sat in circle and held their instruments. Life was beautiful, but Mollie decided she did not want to see the great man any more. She did not want to discuss it; she just wanted a different doctor without causing any concern on the part of the great man. She called the office and said she had decided she preferred a woman. The idiot male on the other end was stunned and had to be reminded that his job consisted of serving her. He seemed appalled at the idea. She threatened him. It took him several hours, but he finally managed to do what she asked. He said the great man would be notified. Mollie said she wanted no communication of any kind in regard to her from him to anyone. The idiot on the phone fainted. Then he said, We’ll see you then. She said to herself, Who the fuck are we?
Of course the great man called. He asked her what the problem might be? She told him she was surprised he needed to consult his notes. Could he explain her last appointment with him? He replied he didn’t remember it. She told him to call when he did, and by the way why hadn’t he returned her call? He said he had been on vacation. She asked him how he could go on vacation at a time like that, and where on earth did he get those savages who answered his phone, could not tell her who they were, and thought they had some sort of we relationship with her? He said he’d give her a woman doctor.
The woman doctor had a man’s name. She brusquely and authoritatively asked Mollie why she had changed doctors? Mollie told her. The doctor, a great woman, announced that the great man denied it had ever happened. Mollie said she supposed he did. The great woman said it was Mollie’s word against the great man, and he was the great man. Mollie said she had nothing whatever to say about that. The doctor asked more complex questions which Mollie answered with some complexity. The great woman stated that Mollie was yelling, wandering all over the place with her answers and any doctor would diagnose her as manic. Mollie again wondered how hard medical school could be, very reasonably responded that she was certainly willing to hear what the great woman had to say. Mollie needed to be careful. This doctor was telling her she was crazy. It was late; Mollie worked very hard and still had to cook dinner. She was suddenly very, very tired. The great woman strongly suggested that Mollie should contact the great man to clear up the misunderstanding. Mollie pointed out that he had had six months to straighten out any misunderstanding. The doctor said the great man had been unaware there was a problem, had not gotten his messages, and Mollie herself had insisted that she wanted no more contact with the great man. Mollie took the prescription for the very powerful antipsychotic the doctor prescribed, read the side effects and decided she actually had a constitutional right to be crazy if she wanted to.
She loved her husband, her children, her job and was generally very happy anywhere other than the doctors’ office. Before she decided to gain weight, gag on her food, take care of her students while fighting off dizziness, and carry a sanitary napkin and a change of clothes to protect herself when she had diarrhea. Meanwhile, s he’d look for another doctor.. Her family was happy with her, and she kept getting great reviews at her job. Her students loved to come to school, cried when they had to get on the bus and were learning. Of course, maybe she was delusional, but delusional people were rarely happy in her experience, so she’d wait until she was miserable
Monday, May 12, 2008
Swings
Jessie could see, so she was a pain in the neck to get across the yard. As soon as she hit the asphalt, she grabbed the sides of her walker and ran for the bright blue and orange playscape, bouncing the walker ahead of her body and swinging along. Mollie let go of Isabel's hand as the little girl raced by, reached down, and grabbed the side of the walker. When the girl looked up, Mollie signed swings close to her face. Then Mollie pointed, and Jessie directed her running to the swings. Mollie let her run. The girl had the heart of a lion and could take a fall.
Mollie held onto Michael who kept trying to fall, swinging around her arm. Isabel held onto Mollie's other hand while Mollie chatted quietly with her in Spanish. The assistant, Ellie, pushed Janeen in the stroller because there were only so many hands, and Jessie could ride the stroller back if she got tired or insisted on going her own way. Mollie had been walking groups of blind children with serious disabilities across that yard for more than ten years. An outsider might think she the scene somewhat chaotic, but Mollie knew every child and every inch of asphalt, and she knew kids needed to run and swing and be a little wild, even when they couldn't see and wore braces.
When the little group reached the swings, Mollie signed to Jessie, wait, lifted Michael on to a swing, strapped him in, and gave him a push. She grabbed Janeen from the stroller got her going on another swing with a little push. She signed to Jessie, come, sit, lifted her into the seat, strapped her in and gave her a huge push. Then she sat in a swing herself, lifted Isabel, sat her on her lap and swung gently for a few minutes. Ellie kept the others swinging. Mollie's mouth ran the whole time, telling the children what they were doing, nagging them like a mother.
Mollie said to Isabel, putting her down, ya, vas a jugar con carrucho solita. Isabel was terrified of the swings. She was from Guatamala, spoke a native dialect with Spanish as a second language. She could not see the other children have fun on the swings and she knew she never wanted to do that again after the first little push. So Mollie sat with Isabel on the swing while Isabel clung to her like a baby monkey, but happy. Then Mollile walked Isabel over to a toy car,sat her in it behind the plastic wheel, and said, estas bien orita. Yo estoy aqui. Tu puedes escucharme. Maneja a la tienda y comprame cookies y leche. Okay? Gracias. Then Mollie quickly walked over to Michael and said, Michael, what do you want? Michael did not reply, but his swing had stopped, so Mollie molded his hands into the sign for more and said, More? You want more swing? and gave him a huge push. One, two, three! running behind the swing, pushing it into the air and shouting. Then she repeated the action with Janeen. You want more? One, two, three! Push, run! Then she stood in front of Jessie and signed and shouted because Jessie could hear a little too and yelled and signed What do you want? What? Show me! Suddenly Jessie signed More swing! laughing very hard and then she signed computer! Mollie ran and laughed very hard. She yelled and signed, No computer. What do you want? and then the four year old girl did it. The little girl laughing with the spirit of a lion laughed very hard and signed more. And then she said the word more using her lips, and voice and laughing eyes.
Mollie held onto Michael who kept trying to fall, swinging around her arm. Isabel held onto Mollie's other hand while Mollie chatted quietly with her in Spanish. The assistant, Ellie, pushed Janeen in the stroller because there were only so many hands, and Jessie could ride the stroller back if she got tired or insisted on going her own way. Mollie had been walking groups of blind children with serious disabilities across that yard for more than ten years. An outsider might think she the scene somewhat chaotic, but Mollie knew every child and every inch of asphalt, and she knew kids needed to run and swing and be a little wild, even when they couldn't see and wore braces.
When the little group reached the swings, Mollie signed to Jessie, wait, lifted Michael on to a swing, strapped him in, and gave him a push. She grabbed Janeen from the stroller got her going on another swing with a little push. She signed to Jessie, come, sit, lifted her into the seat, strapped her in and gave her a huge push. Then she sat in a swing herself, lifted Isabel, sat her on her lap and swung gently for a few minutes. Ellie kept the others swinging. Mollie's mouth ran the whole time, telling the children what they were doing, nagging them like a mother.
Mollie said to Isabel, putting her down, ya, vas a jugar con carrucho solita. Isabel was terrified of the swings. She was from Guatamala, spoke a native dialect with Spanish as a second language. She could not see the other children have fun on the swings and she knew she never wanted to do that again after the first little push. So Mollie sat with Isabel on the swing while Isabel clung to her like a baby monkey, but happy. Then Mollile walked Isabel over to a toy car,sat her in it behind the plastic wheel, and said, estas bien orita. Yo estoy aqui. Tu puedes escucharme. Maneja a la tienda y comprame cookies y leche. Okay? Gracias. Then Mollie quickly walked over to Michael and said, Michael, what do you want? Michael did not reply, but his swing had stopped, so Mollie molded his hands into the sign for more and said, More? You want more swing? and gave him a huge push. One, two, three! running behind the swing, pushing it into the air and shouting. Then she repeated the action with Janeen. You want more? One, two, three! Push, run! Then she stood in front of Jessie and signed and shouted because Jessie could hear a little too and yelled and signed What do you want? What? Show me! Suddenly Jessie signed More swing! laughing very hard and then she signed computer! Mollie ran and laughed very hard. She yelled and signed, No computer. What do you want? and then the four year old girl did it. The little girl laughing with the spirit of a lion laughed very hard and signed more. And then she said the word more using her lips, and voice and laughing eyes.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)