What a difference an aide makes

It happened again.

Despite my caution, I ended up with another special class. They tricked me this time by listing a teacher’s name.

When I asked at the office what subject I had, she gave me three initials I didn’t recognize.

It took three questions to learn that there is another secret code for ‘children with behavior and emotional problems.’

I was optimistic right away. There were two aides who knew the children, knew the routine and had been trained for this. They had the four students under control. I seemed to have no duties.

I wanted to sit down with my novel, but that felt improper, so I walked around the room looking at what the kids were doing. I don’t know what my goal was, but it seemed teacher-like.

Let me introduce you to the class, who sat around the room in a semi-circle facing the wall.

First we have the boy whose job it was to curse. He was doing a math sheet, saying, “This is bulls***. Why do I have to do this f***ing s***? What kind of a**hole. . . ?”

The next boy was all about colors. He had multi-colored shoes, clothes and  backpack. He had pushed aside his math and was busy licking his desk.

The boy by the door was calmly working.

The girl in the class appeared to be applying makeup, but she was using a blue PaperMate.

Colorful boy stopped licking his desk and raised his hand. “My name is Matt.”

I introduced myself and put my name on the whiteboard. The girl began a campaign to prevent the others from using it. “Call her ‘Person’!”

Cursing boy made my day when he shook his head at her and told her she had issues.

The boy by the door finished his work and moved to face the wall, where he could press his nose deeply into his P.E. clothes. He was about 6 feet tall.

Cursing boy called me over to tell me about himself. I realized these children were smart.

He was telling me about his father, who is a ‘Po Po.’ I thought this was excrement, but I found out later it means police officer.

While I was listening to his story, trouble started with the boy against the wall. He was seated, facing away from the aides, who were upset.

“Carl,” an aide said. “Hand it over.”

“I’m Enrique,” Carl said.

“Do you want to spend the rest of the day in the office?”


“That’s it, let’s go.” I didn’t want them to take him away. I loved these kids.

An aide had his elbow. As they left the room Carl said, “Enchildas.”

I wish I could remember the three initials. I can’t wait to go back.


3 Responses to “What a difference an aide makes”

  1. gunky Says:

    i’ve never said this, i swear: LMAO, OTF!

  2. Mike Houser Says:

    Yeah, it won’t take you long to change that tune. God speed, though, T. (aka…person).

  3. Margaret Says:

    Perhaps ED/SDC and/or students with Asperger’s

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