2.17.10
There once was a very special teenaged boy named Walter. He loved to dream and write stories that started with, "There once was..." He was very intelligent and creative. He could also draw deceptively simple pictures of people with astoundingly expressive faces. One day, he wrote an excellent story. But then he crumpled it up.
When I walked into the classroom Walter asked me, "Are you a substitute?" I said, "yes" and asked him, "Are you a student?" I laughed. Walter answered seriously, "yes." Walter always had a serious face and voice.
Walter started drilling me with questions: "Where do you live? Who do you live with? Are you Mrs. or Ms.?" Mr. Brown, the teacher, interrupted: "Walter, those are pretty personal questions you're asking."
Walter told me he likes ten kinds of people. "Only ten?" I asked. He also told me about how he thinks everybody in America should go back to where they came from so the Indians could live here. "They were here first," he said.
The next thing I learned about Walter was that he liked to put things in his mouth that shouldn't go there. Lateisha approached me secretively and said, "Do you want to know something really funny that happened yesterday?" She was overcome with giggles and had to pause. "Walter ate a piece of pizza out of the trash!" Mr. Brown said, "Lateisha, that was nasty. You shouldn't repeat those kinds of things." Lateisha was cracking up. "That WAS nasty!"
Later on in the day, Mr. Brown noticed Walter was chewing on something and asked him what it was. Walter said, "A cherry drop." Mr. Brown paused, afraid to ask his next question. He cringed and asked, "Where -- did you -- get -- the cherry drop, Walter?" Walter answered matter-of-fact: "Off the floor in the hallway."
"Walter, it's very bad to put things from the floor in your mouth. You don't know where that's been. That was probably in someone else's mouth. Go and spit it out." Walter obeyed.
Later, Mr. Brown noticed Walter was being distracted from his work by something he was playing with. "Walter, what is that? Give it to me." Walter answered, "I found it in the gym." After a pause, he admitted, "Sadly, it was also in my mouth." Mr. Brown said, "On second thought, put it on the desk here." After I stopped laughing, I remarked, "That is sad."
Another thing I learned about Walter was that he was an excellent writer. Mr. Brown encouraged Walter, "I want you to finish your story 'Bashuka's Revenge 2: The Stunt Goose'." Walter pulled out a piece of paper and drew a dropped-cap initial "T" and began his story with, "There once was..."
Later Walter asked me, "Want me to tell you all the things that I wish I loved? I wish I loved math and history and science and art and music and sports."
"Wow, I think if you really want to love all those things, you definitely will."
He showed me a picture of his brain that he had drawn. Inside his brain (very well drawn, complete with cerebellum), were six neatly drawn boxes each with a picture and a label: history, science, art, music, sports and math. "I wish I had a good brain," he said.
"I think you have a very good brain."
Later, in the gym, after some free time where I played basketball with two other students and Walter rolled around and around on the floor, Walter approached me and asked me more about myself. "Do you want to be a parent?" I said, "Yes."
"I think you will make a good mom."
"Thank you."
"How much do you yell?" he asked.
"Only a little bit."
"How mad do you get?"
"Not very."
"Yes, I think you would make a good mom."
A bit later, he approached me again, "I have to warn you, It's hard to be a parent. Sometime your kids make you frustrated and stressed out. I should know because my mom tells me that she gets frustrated and stressed out when I tear up the house."
"Oh, really. Do you try not to tear up the house?"
"Yeah, I try."
"You try, but it's hard."
But Walter was more concerned about me. "You could adopt some kids."
"I have thought about that, but I want to get married first."
Walter thought some and asked, "If you had a son, would you definitely love him?" I thought I could see where all this was going.
"Yes, I would definitely love him."
"What kind of room would he have?"
"Walter, I think you should stop wishing you were someone else, and be thankful for the family that you have. Why don't you tell me about your room at home? Do you have posters on the wall?"
"No. I'm not your typical teenager. I don't have posters on the wall."
"What kinds of things do you have?"
He pointed to each of his fingers as he said, "I have toys ... and games ... and, and other stuff. I already told you about all the things I wish I loved."
Walter had another warning for me: "You have to make sure you pick a good husband. Some husbands don't take care of their wife and kids. My daddy wasn't a good husband. I wish he and my mom had never met."
I said, "Oh, I don't wish that, because then you would have never been born and would have never met you."
Walter agreed with this, shaking his head energetically and contorting his lips in all kinds of ways. He still wanted to be a different person. But he had other ideas, first. "I know who you could marry," he said.
"Oh, really?"
"You could marry Mr. Stodar."
"Is he a teacher here?"
"No, he's at Daniel Intermediate school. He's in the Resource room. Maybe you could meet him sometime."
"Yeah, maybe," I said.
After a bit, Walter asked me, "If you had a son, would you play with him all the time?"
"What do you mean?"
"If I was your son, would you play with me after you got done working?"
"If you were my son, yes, I would play with you." I wanted to get his mind off of becoming my adopted son. "Look, it's time to go. Let's go line up."
When we were back in the classroom, Walter asked me, "If you had a son, what would his name be?"
I thought for a couple seconds and answered, not overly seriously, "Nehemiah."
"How do you spell that?" I looked at Walter's desk and realized he was writing a story.
Mr. Brown came back in the room and started teaching about money. But Walter continued to work on his story while learning about how to follow a budget. I peeked over his shoulder occasionally and read what he had written. It was very creative and genuine. I loved it. Mr. Brown asked if he was writing "Bashuka's Revenge 2: The Stunt Goose." He said, "No, this is a different story."
"Ok. I'd love to read it when you're finished." Apparently, Mr. Brown had also noticed Walter's quirky creative genius with words.
As I was helping another student count out his three one-dollar bills, I saw Walter crumpling up a piece of paper. "Walter, is that your story? Don't crumple up your story! I liked it!" I took the crumpled ball from his hand and smoothed it out. This is what I read:
There once was a very nice couple named Mr. and Mrs. Stodar. They had a newborn son
who they named Nehemiah.
He was a bless child who was born with kindness generosity honusty faithfulness integrity
pationce and inteligence.
When they got home, Mr. Stodar put Nehemiah in his crib. He liked history science math
art music and sports. His favorite TV show was Hootie and Hamster Clamander.
"This is a great story, Walter."
Mr. Brown asked, "Can I put it in my file of your stories?" Then Mr. Brown handed me his file so I could peruse Walter's other stories. There was one about a lizard named Lyrallic who was unfortunately eaten by an owl after a few paragraphs and that was the end of the story.
There were several drawings of dogs and a page of illustrated and labeled dog accessories, such as a dog house, leash, bone, and food dish. Lateisha bounded up to see the file, too. She said, "Walter wants to be a dog when he grows up."
There was also a Christmas wish list in the file. Lateisha was leaning over my shoulder and started reading aloud, "Dear Santa..." I asked Walter, "Do you care if she reads this?" He said, "It's kinda personal."
"Do you mind if I read it?" He didn't mind. The list ended, "But, most of all, I wish for a different family that is white and nice."
At the end of the day, Walter told me he wished he could be born again. "I mean literally born again. I wish I could be a baby and grow up again and have a good brain this time, and not be autistic."
"Walter, I think you have a great brain and you should be thankful for it."
The story about Walter is still being written. I hope he finds more people like Mr. Brown who will encourage him to keep writing and drawing. I hope he becomes thankful for who he is. I hope all kids like him get chances to excel and be noticed for what they do best.
