Authors: Torey L. Hayden
I nodded. "Yes, I will. I'll take her out after school next week."
He smiled at me, his lips pressed tight together in a faint, sad smile. Then before I knew it, he was gone. I stared at the bill. Not much clothing could be bought for that anymore. But he had tried. In his own way he had tried to make sure that the money went where it was supposed to before it went for a bottle. I liked the man in spite of myself, and I was flooded with pity. Sheila was not the lone victim; her father undoubtedly needed and deserved as much care as she did. Once there had been a little boy whose pain and suffering were never relieved. Now there was a man. If only there could be enough people to care, enough people to love without reservations, I thought sadly.
CHAPTER 19.
SUDDENLY, ONLY THREE WEEKS REMAINED UNTIL school was through. My head was awhirl with all the things that had not been done. And there were plenty of them. I was also beginning to plan my move, which would occur shortly after school terminated. My evenings were filled with packing boxes and cleaning out all the garbage I had accumulated over the years.
I had not told the children yet that the class was to be disbanded. Some of them already knew that they would be returning to less restrictive placements the next year. William was going to a regular fifth grade class with resource help. For the last three months he had been going out of the room for both reading and math with a fourth grade class down the hall in the main building. Tyler was also going to a new program. She would still be in a self-contained room most of the time, but she would be closer to the life of a regular student.
We hadn't decided what to do with Sarah yet. Although she coped nicely in our room, she still withdrew in a larger group. I suspected she would need at least another year in a special class, but she was almost ready. Peter would never leave a special setting, I feared. His behavior continued to deteriorate as a result of increasing neurological destruction. He was too violent and disruptive, his behaviors too impulsive for anything but a tightly structured classroom. Guillermo's family was planning to move. And Max, Freddie and Susannah would all go to special programs. Freddie was being placed in a room for the severely and profoundly retarded, and the teacher hoped he would not be too much of a problem. She had been over to observe him several times to see how his behavior was managed in our class. Max was doing beautifully. He was using much more normal speech and less echolalia. Both he and Susannah were going to a special program for autistic children.
And Sheila? Sheila. I had not spoken with her yet about the impending termination of class. I had put it off because I did not know what would happen when I did tell her. In short, I was scared. She had come a long way from that frightened little lump that was dragged into our room in January; far from the dependent belt-hanger of February. Jimmie had been forgotten and she almost never referred to being put on the highway anymore. But she was fragile. I did not think she would need a special classroom any longer. In fact, I feared she'd be ignored in one because she was so verbal and able to look out for herself. I was afraid that to place her in one now would force her to readopt some negative behavior just to get the share of attention she required. What she needed was simply someone who cared. I was tentatively thinking of suggesting to Ed that she be advanced to third grade, even though she was small, so she would be closer academically and socially to the other children. Despite her emotional problems, she was mature for her age. Besides, I had a good friend teaching third grade on the other side of town. The district would bus her there if requested because it was closer to the migrant camp than my school was and because maintaining her in a regular classroom was much less expensive than in a special one. And Sandy would take good care of Sheila for me. That assurance I needed for myself.
In an attempt to see Sheila into regular classroom life, I decided to mainstream her into a second grade class in our school for math. One of the second grade teachers, Nancy Ginsberg, was a pleasant, dedicated woman who had been among the first to invite my class and me to share activities with her group. So I approached her one afternoon in the lounge and asked if she would be willing to take Sheila for math. I explained that Sheila was considerably advanced beyond second grade math, but I wanted her out of the room for a period or so during the day in order that she could become readjusted to the strain of a regular classroom. Math was her most secure subject, so that seemed the best place to start. Nancy agreed.
"Guess what?" I said to Sheila as we were putting away toys from freetime.
"What?"
"You're going to do something neat from now on. You're going to go into a regular class for part of the day."
She looked up sharply. "Huh?"
"I talked to Mrs. Ginsberg and she said you could come have math in her room each day."
"Like William does?"
"That's right."
She bent back over the pieces of an Erector set she was putting away. "I don't wanna."
"You're just not used to the idea. You'll want to. Just think, it'll be a regular class. Remember once, you told me that you wished you were in a regular class? Now you will be."
"I ain't going."
"Why not?"
"This here be my class. I ain't going in nobody else's class."
"It's just for math."
Her nose wrinkled. "But that's my favorite in here. It ain't fair you make me leave my favorite time in here."
"You can have math in here too, if you want. But you'll have math in Mrs. Ginsberg's room too, starting on Monday."
"No, I ain't."
Sheila was not keen on the idea at all. For every reason I had, she had a counter reason. The rest of the day she alternately sulked and stormed, not letting me ever change the subject. By afternoon I had had enough and flatly stated that I had heard all the protests out of her I wanted to hear. She was going, she had two days to get ready and I would do all I could to make the change easier, but she was going.
Sheila stomped her feet angrily and stalked off to rattle the bars on Onions' cage. After listening to the persistent clatter of the cage, which Onions fortunately was not in at the time, I went over and dragged her to the table, giving her the alternative of getting her act together better or sitting in the quiet corner. At that Sheila sprung to her feet and marched defiantly off to the quiet corner. Banging the chair around, she sat.
I let her sit. I went back to helping William with his art project and ignored her. She sat the remainder of the afternoon despite both Anton and my telling her she could leave if she calmed down, and even Sarah's offering to let her help with afternoon snacks.
Since she was obviously interested in making me feel bad, I left her with Anton after school and went down to the teachers' lounge to make lesson plans. If Sheila got into one of her moods, she was best left alone. When I returned just before five, she was lounging on a pillow reading a book.
"You done being mad?" I asked.
She nodded casually, not looking up from the book. "You're going to be sorry you made me go."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"I ain't going to be good if I have to go. I'm gonna be bad and she'll send me back here. Then you can't make me leave anymore."
"Sheila," I said in exasperation, "think about that one a while. That's not what you want to do."
"Yes, it is," she replied, still not looking up from her reading.
I glanced at the clock. It was dangerously close to the time when she had to leave. I hated it when she was like this. Coming over to where she was sitting, I dropped on my knees beside her. "What's up, kiddo? Why don't you want to go? I thought you'd like it, being in a regular class again."
She shrugged.
I lifted the book out of her hands so that she had to look at me. "Sheil, I want your thoughts. You know I can't send you in there if you're going to cause trouble. You got me on that one because I don't want Mrs. Ginsberg to have problems. But you can't want to do this."
"I do."
"Sheil..."
She finally looked directly at me, her blue eyes fluid. "How come you don't want me in here no more?"
"I never said that. I want you in here. Of course I want you in here. But I want you to learn what's happening in a real class too so you can go back to one."
"I already know what a real class is like. That's where I was before I came here. I wanna be in this crazy class."
The clock edged toward five. "Sheil, listen, we're out of time. You're going to have to run to catch the bus as it is. I'll talk to you more about it tomorrow."
Sheila would not discuss it further and she was true to her word. I sent her off on Monday morning for thirty-five minutes in Mrs. Ginsberg's class. Within fifteen minutes Anton had to go retrieve her. She had ripped up papers, thrown pencils and tripped some poor unsuspecting second grader twice her size. Anton came dragging her in kicking and screaming. The second the door shut behind them and they were safely in the classroom, Sheila stopped. A pleased smile touched her lips. I sank into a chair beside Max and covered my eyes while Anton escorted her to the quiet corner.
Because her behavior made me extremely angry and I did not trust myself for a while, and also because I knew the time had come to discuss the whole matter of what was going to happen to her the next year, I did not confront her immediately about her behavior in Mrs. Ginsberg's room. After I had calmed down I told her she could leave the corner and rejoin us and then I went about our normal routine.
Directly defying me apparently frightened Sheila considerably. The remainder of the day she was over-solicitous toward me, trying to make sure I saw how good she was being. Also, the fact that I did not deal with the infraction except for the quiet-corner stay was novel, and this troubled Sheila even more. She asked me once when I was going to get mad at her. I smiled, not wanting her to think that my sudden indifference was another indicator of my desire to be rid of her. So I told her we'd discuss the matter later when we had more time. But she was nervous the rest of the day, shadowing me from a distance.
I walked out to the buses with the other children after school. When I returned to the room Sheila stood against the far wall by the animal cages, her eyes wide and fearful. I jerked my head in the direction of one of the tables. "Come over here, kiddo. I think it's time we talked."
Hesitantly she approached, sitting in a chair across the table from me. Her face expressed her wariness, her eyes dilated. "You mad at me?"
"About this morning? I sure was this morning, but I'm not now. No, I just want to find out what is going on with you. I don't really understand why you don't want to go. Last week you refused to talk to me about it. So I just want to find out. You usually have good reasons for what you do; I trust you in that way."
She studied me.
"Well?"
"This here be my class," she replied, falling back on the word "be" which had become almost extinct.
"Yes, it is. I'm not trying to kick you out of it. That's just thirty-five minutes out of a whole day. Besides, I think it's time that you start thinking about a regular class for next year."
"I ain't going in no regular class. This here be my class."
I regarded her a long moment. "Shell, it's May. The school year will be over in a few weeks. I think it's time to think about next year."
"I'm going to be in here next year."
My heart was sinking. "No," I replied softly.
Her eyes flashed. "I am too! I'll be the baddest kid in the whole world. I'll do terrible things and then they'll make you keep me. They won't let you make me go away."
"Oh, Sheil," I wailed.
"I ain't going anywheres else. I’ll be bad again."