Category: Writers Block
Christine loved the sound of the notes that was played at the beginning of
the newest Taylor Swift cd. She could almost listen to this introduction all day. It
was stimulating and almost something else she could focus on instead of the
world she didn’t want to focus in on. Something she had so little in common
with, so much it didn’t want her to be part of. A world which hardly cared for
her feelings and needs. She hit the smooth rewind button and the beginning of
the song played once more, the tune filled notes that tinkled and glided past
one’s conscious caught her. The drums that pulsated throughout rhythmically
gave her a sense of consistent balance. The song was nice, but the introduction
was her favorite. She enjoyed the smooth sleek speakers hooked up to a player
for CDs. The speaker felt really comfortable in her hands. She tried not to touch
the sides because the vibrations of the speakers the pulsations and the air from
the speakers was frightening. She did not like it. The vibration made her nerves
tingle. She heard the door rattle and then open with a squeak at that moment.
“Christy-chan, we’re going to the mid-autumn festival tonight,” aunt
Roselia Yamaguchi stated, “I’ll come get you ready by 5:45.” Her sweet musical
voice rang sweetly in Christine’s ear, even though the message wasn’t sweet.
Her Lavender perfume pervaded Christine’s space. The odor mixed with the
incense from the house which always lingered on her person distinguished her
from other people.
“oh, okay,” Christine said quietly.
“You’ve been listening to that song a lot, should I help you change the Cd
or the song, dear?”
“no, I like the music.” Aunt Roselia laughs and pats Christine on the
shoulders. She begins to walk out.
“I’ll be in here to help you get ready later.” Said Aunt Roselia as she closes
the door behind her. The song had progressed passed its intro and was nearing
its ending. Christine spent the next hour and a quarter of the one after that
listening to the same song. sometimes only the intro and very rarely, the entire
song. Sometimes she would comment conversationally with herself about the
music.
“I think I really like the rhythmic beats of this song. Yes, Christine it’s very
nice. The voice sings with great power and harmony. and the tune flows nicely,
don’t you think? Yeah, it’s nice,” She conversed to herself in this fashion
throughout the Hour and 25 minutes. She’s in the room alone. Her only
conversation partner being her own mind’s imaginary other. It was lonely, but
with not much attention at home and isolation at school, this seemed as if it
was her only recourse. People just didn’t have conversations with Christine. Her
aunt understood sometimes, but at school no one seem to be interested or
understood her. She swayed and was engaged to the beats at the beginning of
the song. music and other little things were really some of the little things that
could keep her attention and focused. She pounded her foot on the ground to
the beat of the music.
She loved the more refined soft carpeting below her feet. Her aunt had
bought her a rug, that Christine liked. It was not a rough carpet like she
sometimes felt at other places. This was a fine good feeling carpet. It was soft.
She liked the stone floors that was part of the rest of the house, but her carpet
rug was her most favorite. This is where she felt most comfortable.
The door swung open a few minutes before 6 Pm. The scent of lavender
perfume invaded Christine’s nostrils. She breathed it in slowly, letting the
pleasant familiar warm scent run threw her airways.
“It’s time, Christy-chan,” Aunt Roselia said. Her sweet musical voice with
the Asian accent graced Christine’s ears. Aunt Roselia slid opened the closet
door. Christine heard the click of the hangers as Ant Roselia perused the closet
for some Clothes. The clicks were irregular and non-rhythmical. The music had
progressed on to a different cadence, but much steadier and more rhythmical
then the irregular clicks of the hangers.
“Christy-chan, I’ve picked out this traditional dress for you, put it on, now,
so we can go,” She ordered handing over the traditional Japanese Dress.
Christine fumbled with the cloth and put on the dress. The seams were exposed
and the cloth tag on the dress hung in the open about where her neck line was.
“You have your dress inside out and backwards, dear, I’ll help you,” Aunt
Roselia said impatiently. She took the dress off of Christine. She flipped it inside
out. Then she put the dress over Christine’s head. She stepped backwards a few
paces and looked over Christine’s Dress. She walked over to the closet and slid
the door closed slowly in slow motion. Meanwhile Christine walked back over to
the speakers and pressed down on the rewind button a few times. The
introduction she favored played once more. Aunt Roselia walked over to the
speakers and pressed the stop button.
Her environment was changed Drastically. She didn’t like it. She threw
herself on the ground and began flailing about and screaming. It was too
sudden. It was a lack of consistency and predictability. She was overwhelmed by
the sudden change of environment. Her heart beat was quickened. she felt a
painful flood of emotions in her head. There was something placed on top of her
after some time. A familiar voice said something but it was inaudible. She had
no control of her body, her emotions pinged around in her head. The blanket
was something she could try to focus on. Christine heard something like a click.
Some fast footsteps and a little hand was placed on her back.
“Christine, why are you crying? You cry a lot! I like you when you’re
happy! It’s not fun when you cry,” a young girls voice said. She knew that voice,
that voice always had a tendency to calm her. It was Anita. Anita was a good big
sister.
“why are you on the ground? Can’t you even get up? I want you to get
up,” commanded Anita bossily. Christine’s was much calmer now, but still her
emotions was a little disordered. It was a faint and muffled pain. She would get
up. Anita was her favorite. She was bossy but nice. At least she payed attention
to Christine. She would sometimes tell her how to play and they’d play together
on Anita’s instructions.
“Anita you can go outside for a few minutes,” Aunt Roselia said. Anita
walked out and Christine instantly threw herself back down on the ground and
began to bawl again. Her favorite person was gone. the security. wasn’t there
anymore. Her stimulation was gone. Anita voice was heard again calling her
name. It calmed her but she couldn’t get up still. Her emotions were still within
her. Anita came over and began again to tell Christine what to do. The bossy
voice took a few minutes to calm her down a bit more. After a while she was
ready to get back up. Aunt Roselia got Christine ready with Anita there beside
her, holding her hand.
“Time to go, Christy-chan,” aunt Roselia prompted and started to walk out.
“Come with me,” Anita commanded. Anita ran forward, and dragged
Christine along as she walked excitedly out of the room.
“Mummy is taking us to the fair, and I can show you rides and how to ride
them! Isn’t that fun? I think it’s funner than home! Staying here is so boring!”.
“Dara Come, we’re leaving now, dears. Let’s go to the festival,” Aunt
Roselia said stopping at the living room where a little boy was playing. The little
boy, who was the younger of the two looked up.
Dara Yomaguchi shrieked, “mommy, we’re going to the big party?” His
toys were forgotten, his foot pounding on the ground quickly as he ran towards
his mother, and he collided with Aunt Roselia.
Anita chided her brother, “It’s not a party dara! I told you it was a festival.
Even mommy says it’s a festival. You stupid? huh?”
“Yes, Dara, and no running. You need to behave yourself if you want to go,
or else I can take you to obaa sama,” Aunt Roselia admonished. The little boy
looked a bit more serious.
“ooo,” Christine said dramatically.
“Don’t say that Christine. It’s not nice to your Cousin,” She scolded. They
left the house. Aunt Roselia opened the door and helped Christine in to the front
seat and directed her two children to sit in the backseat. Aunt Roselia began
driving to the festival.
The festival was heard before it could be seen. The music was almost deafening
and Christine noticed the slowing down of the speed of the car, as they drove
through congested streetss, where most of the cars were trying to drive towards
the festival. Anita and Dara were playing a game of some sort amongst
themselves. Christine had one hand and the other arm over her ears. She held
on to her stuffed cat tightly for comfort. The music was a bit loud to her. They
soon arrived at the festival. Aunt Roselia rolled down her window to hand the
guard a parking ticket.
The young man inquired politely, “Thank you you know how to get to your
parking spot, Madam?” Christine liked the tender soft polite voice. It was
attractive to her ears.
“who’s that, Aunt Roselia? I like your voice,” Christine said. Aunt Roselia
had already began to roll up the window. She started the car forward down in to
the parking structure.
“Christine, that wasn’t appropriate, you can’t say that stuff. He’s the man
in charge of the parking structure,” Aunt Roselia admonished as she drove
deeper in to the parking structure and finally parked her car. Christine had taken
her hands from her ears, as it was a bit quieter down in the parking lot. Aunt
Roselia got out of her car, and opened the door and escorted Christine out of the
car and told the children to come along.
A few minutes later, they reached the grounds of the festival. Christine
thought it was overwhelming and disorientating. There were simply too many
things her senses were able to register. The different scents of the food were
one of them. There was some sweet Aromas and others smelt spicy. The air was
warm on this September night nearing the end of the month. Many voices
surrounded her, some jovial, and others soberer and quiet. Some voices
registered on a higher pitch than others. At the moment the festival was playing
some Chinese music, which had a slow rhythm in the key of e minor. There was
loud bangs and cracks. A siren sounded in the distance. She covered her ears. it
was painful, the sensation of too many details that she kept track of. She
disliked it. She began to sweat and panic. Her heart beats quickened. No,
indeed she couldn’t take this! no, it was not comforting. All The thoughts of the
details raced through her head. The voices interlaced with each other to make a
fabric of highs and lows. She gripped the stuffed cat tightly against her chest.
The beats of the music drew her to it and the notes played in the key of e minor
was so fluid. There was the Chinese harp which played the base of it. The
rhythms were played by the drums. The accents of the bangs were jarring but
fascinating. It sometimes cracked and bang at a tempo of a second apart
sometimes a few seconds apart.
“Dear, I need you to come on, quicker. we’ll get some good food first. and
then maybe you can go on some rides with Dara-bo, and Anita-chan,” Aunt
Roselia said sweetly as she nearly dragged Christine. Christine walked slowly,
not really willing herself to move forward. Anita had run ahead.
“mommy! mommy! Look at those colorful balloons!” Anita shouted, “Can I
go on that ride, over there?” Dara ran ahead and joined her sister. Christine was
gripping the bear tighter. her hands pressed to her ears. All this detail was
becoming more stressful for her, it became almost unendurable. It was intense.
It was like all her neurons was fired up all at once. She was over stimulated and
she had no recourse. She didn’t know what to do about it. She swayed back and
forth a bit.
“No, I don’t want to go on that ride, Anita! I want to go on that other one.
It’s funner! That one is so boring,” Dara said pointing at a Mary-go-round type
of ride, “mommy can we go on that blue ride, can we? huh? huh? huh? Can we
mommy! It goes round and round and round and round, and round and round,
and round and round!” Roselia looked at her children who was practically
jumping out of their skins, and then at her niece Christine.
“mommy, come on! mommy! I want to go on that ride! I want one of
those balloons too,” Anita shouted impatiently. Christine was swaying now back
and forth harder.
“It’s okay, Christine, it’s just the festival, let me see if I have some ear
plugs,” Aunt Roselia said looking at her children sternly but almost helplessly.
“I want to go home. I want to go home. It’s loud and confusing,” Christine
said quietly. She continued to rock back and forth. She held her bear tighter.
“Let’s at least get some food in you, then maybe I can see if I can take
you to your parent’s house! Come on, it’s going to be okay Christine-tan” Aunt
Roselia persuaded pulling Christine along a bit further. Christine was passively
moved along. So much of her attention was taken up by her racing thoughts.
“mummy, mummy, mummy, come on! come on! I want to go on that ride.
I want to go on that ride,” Anita begged her mother.
“We are going to get food first, dear, and your cousin needs some time, so
you need to stop whining.” As Christine’s rocking became more intense, her
walking slowed. They were now almost at one of the booths. Christine let out a
loud scream and started to bawl uncontrollably. She began to stomp and flail
her arms. She pulled Aunt Roselia from her spot as she began running in a
random direction. Her emotions had over taken her mind and body! She had no
control her emotions dominated and continued to swell with the thoughts racing
ever faster. The crowd and the noises of the festival was great and more painful
than ever. This continued. She thought she felt hands around her. Warm firm
ones. She was lifted and moved. She couldn’t control her movements or move
the way she wanted to move. Some kids were yelling and someone was yelling
back, maybe that was her aunt and cousins? no, she couldn’t tell her brain was
too in pain and congested. Eventually the noise dimmed a bit but was still
overwhelming. The notes now flowed in A minor and the lute was a big part of
the performance. She felt an additional sensation of dropping downwards
though slowly. The bangs were now intermixed with loud jarring high pitched
whistling. Somehow she was moved on to a soft seat, in a quieter place, some
restraints were placed upon her, and a door shut and She still had little control
over her emotions, thoughts, and movements. She felt that she was trapped in
her own pain, emotions, and her racing thoughts. It was quiet in the confines
itself, except for a rumbling. A short while later the Music and the bangs
resumed, though now more muffled. Her pain continued and the racing
thoughts that had slowed began to build up again. It Began to pile up in her
head. Her heart quickened and her emotions mounted. She could still tell that
this new tune was in d minor. She was alert to the movements underneath her.
A rumbling sound persisted. Sometimes she would hear quiet whispering. The
noises slowly dimmed as it became distant. There was a noice but she couldn’t
distinguish the words but a familiar sound and cadence. Time passed slowly,
painfully, awkwardly, and unpleasantly. No, she didn’t like this at all. Her racing
mind slowed slowly, all be it faster than did her overwhelming emotions. The
Pain lessened too. Eventually the movements and the rumbling stopped. The
door opened. She could sense that she had a bit more control over her body.
Her flailing was lessening. She had an idea that she was still expressing her
emotions verbally, but none of it could be controlled by her. She could feel that
there was her weight blanket over her. Her emotions was still a weight on her
minds. Her mind was still hurting from so much pressure from the feelings and
racing thoughts in there. Some words were exchanged. A somewhat familiar but
not very common male voice was saying some soft things over her, but not to
her. Then warm hands lifted her from the seat after the restraints were lifted.
He said something to her. She felt herself being carried in to a house. Because
her still somewhat foggy layer of emotions still had control over her, she could
not tell what the voice said, but it kept saying some very gentle soft words to
her. An old sounding voice, a very tired sounding voice. She was eventually laid
on a soft surface. She didn’t like this, the environmental change was too
sudden. She didn’t really know who the man was. Her emotions and racing
thoughts resumed fully. She felt her limbs beating the soft surface. The surface
was very pliable. Time passed, though slowly. Eventually her emotions of pain
and being overwhelmed, though slowly, died altogether. She laid there for a few
minutes. There were footsteps.
“You’re feeling more under control I see, I am glad to see that,” the same
old voice spoke to her, “what about dinner? I heard from your aunt that you
didn’t get a chance to have dinner before you were overwhelmed at the fair.
Grandmother Alexandra has made you a nice meal. Come.” He said this last
word the most gently. The man was beside her, down on the ground almost
level with her. That seemed comforting.
Christine asked excitedly, “Is that grandpa Joseph?” She began to get up
to obey the summons.
“Yes, good! It is, Christine,” Joseph June confirmed smiling at her widely.
His somewhat raspy voice was nice to her ears. He held her arm gently and
helped her out to the living room. He let go of her. Christine heard the chair
drag along the carpet as Joseph pulled it out.
“I should go tell your grandmother you’re ready for that warm delicious
dinner that is ready for your consumption. Meanwhile, the chair is before you. It
is right in front of you. Why don’t you have a seat. Alright, I’ll be right back,”
Joseph said and left the room. Christine walked in front of her, but no seat was
to be found. She wondered to her left. She heard some voices to her right and
began going over that way. She moved somewhat slowly. Her arms in front of
her but no chair was to be found. Joseph reappeared in the room shortly.
“It’s this way, Christine,” said Joseph. He grabbed her arm gently and lead
her over to the chair and put her hand on it.
“here, have a seat, Grandmother Alexandra will be out in a moment with
your plate,” he commanded and watched her as she sat down in the chair. He
pulled out a chair beside her and sat down next to Christine.
“I am going to sit here beside you,” Grandpa Joseph said. She was
focusing on the smooth glass on the table that she was sitting in front of. It was
nice and glossy. She rubbed her fingers along the cold surface and rocked back
and forth.
“I see that you like the feel of the table. It’s made out of glass.” Joseph
observed. Christine kept rubbing her fingers along the slippery surface. Joseph
sat and watched her patiently.
“It’s smooth. I like it!” Christine mumbled to herself, “I like it! I like it!”
“That’s right, it’s smooth,” Joseph said watching her intently. He got up
and turned on the stereo with some jazz music. Christine began to sway a bit,
still rubbing her fingers on the table.
she swayed to the music. She swayed to the music in a strange rocking.
“That’s the Key of g,” she shouted! Grandpa Joseph smiled.
“Very observant, I see. I surmise you’ve been working hard on your
music?” he asked.
“I like music. I like playing music,” Christine said softly. Christine heard a
set of footsteps. A woman brought out a plate of food and set it down before
Christine.
“Hello Christine, I heard you haven’t had dinner. Why don’t you have some
food? I cooked you something nice,” said grandma Alexandra. A piece of stake,
some homemade potato salad, and green beans were in front of her. She ate
this dinner quietly. She was hyper aware of the tender and juicy meats. It was
flavorful. The flavors in her mouth, the loud earthy taste of the potatoes and the
earthy taste of the green beans. She also liked the crunchy texture of the
lengthy green beans. All the while she was rocking back and forth in her chair.
“What about playing some music, Christine? We have about 2 hours before
your aunt comes and gets you, at 11,” Joseph said as he came back from
bringing Christine’s empty plate in to the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Christine said quietly. Joseph Escorted her in to the other room.
The rough carpeting was sensitive below her feet.
“This will do. Here’s the Piano bench in front of you,” Joseph informed her.
She sat down and begin to play note after note. The music flowed through her
head and throughout the room. Music was her language. She enjoyed playing.
She could be on the piano all day. The soft fluid melodies calmed her nerves.
She was excited by the keys. The smooth springy keys beneath her fingers was
happy. Her fingers moved freely around the keyboard. She could hear Joseph
playing the guitar behind her. The sharp twangs of the notes were a contrast.
The complex rhythms he would play in the background. The flow of the more
textured music that accompanied her softer more melodious notes. She was
aware sometimes she let out some excited squeals from the loud and wonderful
excitement which flowed through her veins. This was her night, she felt
amazing. more amazing then she felt in a long time. The loud bubbling of
happiness. of love. The bright blossoms of joy. It was loud and pronounced
when Grandpa stopped playing his instruments.
“Christine, I think that will do. You did very well, tonight.” Grandpa Joseph
complemented her quietly. He placed a soft large hand on her arm with a little
bit of pressure. The music still flowed out of Christine almost explosively.
“I need you to stop playing, your aunt is coming in a few minutes. I am
sorry, but you can’t stay here and play all night. I know you’d like to,” he said
gently to her.
“I want to play the piano. I don’t want to stop,” Christine verbalized.
Joseph was able to separate her from the piano, but not without a cost. She had
once again been overwhelmed by emotions. The fact that she couldn’t do what
made her the happiest. Her favorite stimulus. The quiet and the loud odorous
silence was sharp and painful. The bubbling of happiness turned in to a bubbling
of pain. She felt anxious and scared. The silence was uncomfortable. She could
feel herself being lifted and sensed the soft surface below her at some point.
Her emotions lasted what seemed like ages, but it eventually calmed.
Then her aunt was beside her.
Chapter One
"Hello. Mrs. Animus. David Bridges, the vision teacher here at Marshall
middle School," Mr. Bridges introduced himself. He stood straight and tense with
a large brown paper box in his muscular arms in front of the short haired Tonya
Animus. She was the teacher of a moderate to severe classroom with ten
special needs six through eighth graders along with a student aid dressed in a
pink lacy dress sitting beside one of the students. There was also one
instructional Aide in the classroom, who sat in the corner. The students were
sitting in neat rows of milky-white wooden student desks. She looked at him
more carefully as soon as he introduced himself.
” I’ve been wondering when and hoping that you would be coming Mr.
Bridges. I need to speak to you, and that is exactly why I made it a point to call
you to make sure you would and that we can talk. But, just a minute," She
addressed him briskly and promptly turned around sharply, "Britney, I need you
to stop working with Christine for now, and can you take over the class for me.
I need to talk to this man here." She pointed at Mr. Bridges to indicate who it
was.
"No, Christine stay here, right. Don't get up, I'll be right here. I’ll be back
right away to work with you," Britney said with a little laugh. Britney stood up
revealing her impressive height and pushed the big round jar of large wooden
blocks a bit closer to Christine with her long fat arms. Christine stood up and
Britney reaches for her arm. Christine dislodges herself from Britney's warm
fingers, which was wrapped around Christine's thin arm in an effort to try to
stop her by pulling her back.
Christine demands, her low voice projecting loudly, as she wanders
aimlessly across the classroom, "Mrs. Animus, Mrs. Animus! Who's that!" Mrs.
Animus's face creased and soured. MR. Bridges looked impatient and stern.
Every line and feature of his face became emphasized. David Bridges Placed his
box down on an unoccupied desk deciding that this process may take a while.
"Christine, why are you interrupting and out of your seat. I need you to sit
down and behave yourself," Mrs. Animus admonished. Christine wandered
around for another minute and finally decided that she had found her seat. She
felt around on the desk immediately in front of her. Her fingers landed on a
smooth soft fleshy object, a long one! A brown hair girl was sitting there at the
desk and she fixed her blue eyes meanly on Christine.
The girl said testily and aggressively “Man! get off my desk or I'll throw
this pencil at you!!!!" The girl lifted the pencil and gripped it tightly by the tip.
She positioned it diagonally by her face.
Christine demanded, "What's that! Who's that!" The Aide began to walk
over to intervene, but Mrs. animus took ten giant steps and beat her reaching
the pair in no time.
She interjected sharply and fiercely, "No, Jenna! You cannot throw stuff in
here, that's not acceptable classroom behavior! Christine you need to go sit
down and stop touching people and wandering around the classroom! I want
you to both apologize to each other.” The girl, Jenna, sitting at her desk glared
at Christine!
Jenna growled, “Sorry!!”
“That is not an acceptable apology Jenna, you need to be sincere about it.
You know better than to throw objects,” Mrs. Animus reprimanded. The girls
finally apologized to each other. Mrs. Animus dragged Christine across the room
forcefully by the arm to her desk, and let go of her. Britney approached
Christine.
"Here, sit down, kay," Britney commanded and helped Christine sit down.
Mrs. Animus took a few steps back toward David Bridges, and signaled for
Britney to step to the front of the class.
"Christine, you need to stay there, wondering around the classroom is just
unacceptable! Jenna, I will deal with you in a minute! Britney, you need to come
up here, so that you can take over the class for me," Mrs. Animus ordered and
turned to Mr. Bridges, "Sorry about this, Mr. Bridges. Let's step outside,
because I really do need to speak to you." Mr. Bridges obliged, and they walked
briskly out of the classroom on to the narrow grey metal ramp of the bungalow.
The pair turned right and headed down the ramp. They turned to the left and
took a few steps into the spacious asphalt covered courtyard. The brilliant
September sun shone brightly on the pair, who stood facing one another. The
cloud covering was absent from the skies and the metal of the bungalows
glowed with heat. Tonya Animus's body was tense and she looked sharply at Mr.
Bridges, who looked at Mrs. Animus more calmly.
Mrs. Animus nearly shrieked, "Mr. Bridges, I don't know what to do at all! I
have Christine as you know who is both blind and autistic, in my class! I speak
frankly, I don't know how to teach her. You're the vision specialist, so you are
the expert on this, and suppose to help me handle this matter! Furthermore,
she can't follow along in my class, I don't know if she really belongs in my class!
I don't know if there's some kind of accommodations that can help!" Mr. Bridges
looked at her slowly with his round blue eyes. He seemed to be looking intently
at her helpless looking features.
“She’s supposed to be able to follow in the class, and if not she’ll have to
learn to follow along with the rest of the students. We have agreed to
mainstream Christine and so we are certain she can. I brought some braille
materials for her to work with. You just have to set her up and she’s supposed
to do her work. I brought her a brailler so she can type her alphabet. I also
brought some paper to type on. You just need to let me know when you run
out. I’ll bring you an entire box tomorrow. You should be fine for a long time. I
also brought her some math flash cards that she’ll be able to practice on by
herself. lastly, I brought over a braille cheat sheet for the aids to help her with
her braille. I will also come once a day to get her and may send an aid over
once a day,” Mr. Bridges informed Mrs. Animus. Mrs. Animus face was still
creased and flustered.
Tonya animus nearly shouted at Mr. Bridges, “You’re sure she has that
ability to follow along? She hardly seems like she could!”
“Yes, Mrs. Animus,” Mr. Bridges reassured her, “Christine will be fine.” They
walked back in to the class after a few more minutes of standing in the
afternoon sun. Mrs. Animus still looking uneasy and burdened. Mrs. Animus
walked to the front of the class, while Mr. bridges walked to the back of the
class and approached Christine.
Christine inquired loudly, “Who’s that! Britney?” Mr. Bridges frowned.
“quite, Don’t you know that you’re supposed to keep your voice down,
Christine? Whisper,” Mr. Bridges admonished quietly, “I am Mr. Bridges your new
vision teacher here at Marshall. I’ll be your vision teacher as long as you can
stand it.” He chuckled to himself, thinking that he was funny.
Christine asked still loudly, “what? Forever?” Mr. Bridges chuckled some
more.
Mr. Bridges answered, “Keep your voice down. Yes, foreva!!!!! I brought you
work to do, so I expect you to do it. Listen to your teacher. You understand?”
“Okay, okay,” Christine replied somewhat annoyed. Mr. Bridges looked
around for a minute thinking.
“I am going now, I came over to introduce myself and I will be back to get
you once a day. goodbye Christine,” He said and left the classroom.
———————————————————————————————————————
The bell signaling passing period between alpha station and first period
had rung loudly and deeply. A short fair skin girl walks in to a bungalow slowly
with her short aluminum cane. She took a deep Breath as if readying herself to
brace the day. She approaches the front of the warm cramped bungalow.
“Hello, Mrs. Jeffries, how are you doing. I think I have you again for Pre-
Algebra two,” She says in her low rich nasally voice, “I think, I have you first
period” Mrs. Grace Jeffries turns to her and looks at who the speaker is. She
was somewhat sure she recognized the unique voice.
“You do not have this class anymore, Rebecca. You do not belong in here.
You happened to have tested amongst the top five percent of the school for Pre-
Algebra one students. So, in result of that, the school is testing this new class
and you are in it. You have been now placed in Algebra AB, I believe.” Rebecca
Colleen Alonzo’s mouth hung opened. She could not believe what she heard.
“That, can’t be me, right? Surely, no, not me! I am really not that good,”
She thought in shocked half disbelief. A lady in her mid-thirties walked in to the
classroom and approached Rebecca.
“Hello Rebecca, this is Ms. Sharon. Did you hear about your class Change?
I have your new schedule, right here,” Ms. Sharon Kegel informed Rebecca.
Rebecca turned around to where the voice was.
Rebecca inquired, “Hello, good morning Ms. Sharon. Yes, I just heard that
my class has changed. Cool, you have the schedule! so where do I go?” Ms.
Sharon looked at the schedule again to double check the class and room
number. Rebecca positioned her cane to get ready to begin to walk out of the
classroom.
Ms. Sharon replied, “You are in the 800 building first with Mr. Lugo, and
that’s your science class, 815. Are you ready to go?” Sharon Kegel folded the
paper and put the paper in her pocket.
“Yes, Madame,” Rebecca said politely and they exited the classroom and
walked over to the 800 building. They traveled across the large Asphalt
Courtyard and stepped in to a semi-clean hallway with stone floors and concrete
walls.
———————————————————————————————————————
“Hello, how are you all doing,” Rebecca said wheeling her bulky blue
backpack in front of the empty brown plastic seat right next to hers. She
pushed the button on the handle with her small fingers. She pushed the light
blue handle of the backpack in to the frame of the backpack.
“Hello,” the group greeted her. Rebecca pulled each dirty looking white
section out of an adjacent section, which looked just about the same. After the
cane was completely collapsed she took the brown elastic cloth string and
looped it over one end of the collapsed bundle of cane sections.
“you mind watching my stuff, Francine?” Rebecca asked as she turned to
go to the long line of middle school students waiting in line to purchase their
lunches. The three girls on the other side of the table were whispering fervently
to one another.
“uh-huh, sure,” Francine said absently in her high pitch voice. Rebecca
went amidst the throng of students and 10 minutes later returned with a tray of
unappetizing looking food. Now there were only two girls across the table.
Rebecca inquired, as she located the table and placed her tray down, “Hey,
I am back, how was the first day of classes so far for you folks?” She sat down
on the small plastic seat. She ripped open the thin plastic rapper which
contained the two slim burritos and began to eat her way through them
ravenously.
“It was fine, I had PE, English, and History so far,” Francine stated drily
and shortly. Francine took a Drink of her milk. The girl next to her, with short
black hair spooned up a spoonful of dark brown pudding and put the spoon to
her mouth.
The tall Black hair girl “complained, Yeah, it went well, I liked my teachers.
I still can’t get in the swing of things. Why can’t summer just be 6 months
longer?” Rebecca finished one burrito in a few minutes and decided to open her
silverware package. She pounded the plastic parcel on the hard plastic table.
The spork poked through the top. She ripped opened thee plastic bag and
grabbed the straw. Rebecca opened the small carton of Orange juice and placed
the thin plastic straw in it.
“Yeah, I have to agree with you Maria,” Rebecca said as she took a sip of
the orange juice, “The summer was way too short! I was hoping to work on my
fanfiction this summer, but it didn’t seem like it was long enough for me to do
all the writing that I wanted to do. Oh yes, plus I went to Spain for a few weeks.
I am kind of excited though since I am a Ta this year. Hopefully it works out,
though, since my schedule has really changed since this morning.” Rebecca
started on her second burrito, and there was a short pause in the conversation.
The three girls at the table were concentrating on finishing their lunches.
Maria asked after a short silence “Oh that sounds exciting! Where did you
go in Spain? What did you do?” Maria ate some of her grilled Cheese. Rebecca
was almost done with the second thin burrito. She wiped off her mouth with the
cheaply made thin napkin after she chewed a big bite of the cheesy burrito.
“Mostly in Barcelona. Some are in Madrid. A few others are in smaller
towns near Catalunya in Spain. I just visited relatives mostly. My father has a
big colony of relatives who live over there. It was fun, minus the jetlag. Now
that wasn’t fun,” she laughs good naturedly, “I don’t think anyone likes that too
much honestly.” She consumes the rest of the burrito. She finishes that quickly
and eats the cup of pudding swiftly.
Frances interjected, “Catalan? Isn't that another country?” Rebecca
finishes up her pudding and gulps down her milk. Her Fruit bowl on her Black
paper lunch tray forgotten.
“Yeah, but Catalunya is surrounded by Spain, pretty much. Hey I should
go; I should try to catch Ms. Melworm before PE. I was going to Ta for her, sixth
period originally but it won't work out,” Rebecca said hurriedly gathering her
cane up, and pulling up the plastic handle of the roller backpack, “Oh, I don’t
know what to do with the Ta thing anymore, really. Pray for me, maybe I’ll end
up being able to read for her eighth period.” She said this last bit more absently.
She walks out quickly, hurriedly. In no time she is going up the steps of Mrs.
Melworm’s classroom. Her backpack suspended in the air as she lifts it to go up
the steps. She steps up on the landing and rolled her backpack in to the
classroom.
“hi, Ms. Melworm, do you have a moment,” Rebecca greeted the said Ms.
Melworm. She stood patiently at the front of the class.
“Just a minute, Sure, I can talk to you, though, but I can give you only
five minutes,” Ms. Melworm said shuffling a thick stack of papers on her desk in
the back. On hearing her voice, Rebecca began to head towards the back of the
classroom, walking sideways and dragging her backpack very carefully through
the narrow row of small wooden desks.
“oh, this should be quick, so no worries,” Rebecca informed Ms. Melworm,
still working on getting to the back of the classroom. She lifted the roller
backpack so it wouldn’t hit the desks and began to slide it sideways in the
narrow space between the two row of desks she was maneuvering through. She
made it to the end and turned left and placed the roller backpack on the floor
and dragged it towards the computer desk where Ms. Melworm was sitting. She
stood there one small hand on the handle of the backpack. The other hand
dribbling the cane. Her hand loosens on the cane’s dirty rubber grip and the
cane’s fat round porcelain tip hits the floor gently. Some of the time the cane
bounces and Rebecca grabs the cane as it rebounds and loosens her hand
again. At other times she picks up the cane about an inch off the ground and
then lets it go. She alternates that with twirling the cane around in her hands.
“Hello, Rebecca, I can talk to you now” Ms. Melworm stated politely and
turned towards Rebecca. Rebecca stopped dribbling her cane.
“Well, Ms. Melworm, my schedule has changed. I can’t TA for you next
period, but I am free 8th period. I am wondering, you know, if I can just, do it
then,” Rebecca asked cautiously, unsure of what she needed to say. She wasn’t
sure how to best phrase it or if that would get the point across. She began to
twirl the cane around in her hands her body tensed up a bit.
“I am sorry, that will not work for me, so I don’t think this would work
out,” Ms. Melworm replied, “I hope the best for you, though. I hope you can find
an elective that will work for you.” Rebecca looked disappointed and
uncomfortable. Her weight shifting from foot to foot. This meant she was out of
luck for an elective. She had taken art, last semester, and though it went
decently, she wasn’t fond of it. She also didn’t like Ms. Quesada. The way Mrs.
Boden ran creative writing wasn’t her top pick either and she was sure that she
could only take creative writing once. Computers was out of the question,
because she wouldn’t benefit from the class, since the teaching method and
curriculum she was told was not really that workable for the blind. She wasn’t
thrilled to be stuck in the vision room for a period either, and her father
wouldn’t really approve of that she knew. Mr. Alonzo wasn’t a fan of Mr. Bridges
and thought that being stuck in the vision room wasn’t a productive use of
Rebecca’s time.
“uh, okay. Thanks. I guess I will see you? Thanks for allowing me to work
with you to begin with. I am sorry my new schedule doesn’t work out. I wasn’t
planning on it changing,” Rebecca said awkwardly with lots of pauses. She was
flustered and uncomfortable. She stood there rooted to the spot, not knowing
how to move, and couldn’t seem to move.
she felt confused and conflicted. She had banked on this working.
“I am sorry it didn’t work. We just have a very tight schedule in here,” Ms.
Melworm stated trying to sympathize. Rebecca nodded.
“Thanks. Uh, I guess I’ll see you,” She muttered, and slowly exited the
classroom. She dragged her feet just incredibly flustered, unsure, awkward, and
confused. She went to the locker rooms to change for PE Class.
———————————————————————————————————————
Rebecca was nervous. Mr. Bridges wasn’t going to deal with this well. She
walked slowly in to the short corridor of the 400 building. Every step felt heavy.
Every step seems to draw her towards something probably bad. The stone floors
and cement walls seemed more dreadful and cold every step she took. The
building seemed hotter than it already was. She dragged herself slowly through
the door. Mr. Bridges was already austere and frightful. She had had a dream
once that she was sitting in a chair looking down and he was lecturing her
mercilessly over a trivial matter.
He demanded loudly, “Yes, are you coming to see me? Why are you
walking so slowly? You don’t have all day! Come in!” Rebecca took a deep
breath. She tried to relax herself but braced herself for the worse at the same
time.
“s-sorry, but, hi, I, erm… You may know my schedule has been Changed
and Ms. Melworm who I was actually going to Ta for sixth period can’t have me
do it eighth. so, I don’t have an elective right now. I don’t think I can go in to
the other elective classes though. I’d like to be a Ta but I don’t know if it’s
possible,” Rebecca said hurriedly blundering on just hoping for the best. She
had now taken her hand off of the handle of the backpack. The roller stood six
inches beside her. She was impulsively picking at her fingernails. The nail on the
right index finger digging in to the middle finger of the left hand.
“Hmmm. I see,” Mr. Bridges said sternly almost mockingly. Rebecca
quivered and lifted her left hand up to her face. She bit on the nail of the middle
finger.
“s-so, maybe, uh, you can help,” She squeaked out, looking down at the
ground. She ripped in to the nail that she bit in to with her right hand.
“I think I have something for you. I have the perfect person who you could
work with, so you may be in luck,” Mr. Bridges said after a few minutes of
suspense. Rebecca stood there fidgeting with her nails. Her body relaxed a bit
after hearing Mr. Bridges’ statement.
Rebecca asked much more normally, “oh, thanks, who do you have in
mind?” Mr. Bridges stood up and pushed his cushioned office chair towards
Rebecca. He grabbed another one and sat down.
“sit down first. there’s a chair to the right of your backpack,” He
commanded. Rebecca walked past her backpack and held out her hand a short
distance from her body and located the Chair. Her palms contacted the blue
cloth of the chair. She turned around and sat down on the soft blue seat.
“thanks Mr. Bridges,” she thanked him. He took a breath and begun.
“There is a student I want you to work with. She is a new student here.
This is timely because she just got here, from Roger She’s a Sixth grader. I
don’t know if you remember Christine June from Roger She needs an aid, and
you will be the perfect one. You can work with her on braille and math. It’s too
late today, so you should start working with her tomorrow,” He ordered. She
hesitated in her thought. Christine like that silly disruptive little girl who sits in
the corner in the vision room in roger who she didn’t really like. Well, she wasn’t
too fond of the idea. Rebecca didn’t even really like Christine all that much from
back then. She thought that Christine was annoying and now she has to work
with her? What choice did she have though? If she said no, where would she
go? What elective would she have?
Rebecca replied, “Christine, Sure, I remember her. Yeah, I guess I’ll work
with her. That sounds alright. So what do I do? How do I teach her?” Rebecca
wasn’t sure. It sounded fun, but also quite a challenge. Rebecca liked challenges
though.
“Just teach her the alphabet and math. You’ll see. She’ll have a brailler
and her math flash cards. You will meet up with me here tomorrow, and we will
go over to Ms. Animus’s class together. Do you have any homework? For today
you can stay in here,” Mr. Bridges said.
“That sounds great. And, Yes, I have homework. I’ll get it out now. Can I
use one of the computers, please?” Rebecca asked of Mr. Bridges. Mr. Bridges
pointed out which one she could use and for the rest of that period Rebecca
completed some of her homework.
———————————————————————————————————————
It was late afternoon; the sun was shining in from the west. The window
was opened and Rebecca was sitting in her office chair in the middle of the
room. Her hands frantically laced and unlaced. Thoughts in her head raced. She
felt frantic and lost. She was supposed to teach Christine but yet, Mr. Bridges
refused to be specific on how. She had no idea, she was 13 and in the eighth
grade. How was she supposed to teach? Was she expected to be successful?
She got up and frantically paced the room while she thought about it. She had
no instruction on how to teach, much less how to teach a special need sixth
grader. This would be almost her doom. how was she supposed to get Christine
to get to work? How was she supposed to keep her to be on task? She now
walked in circles lost in frantic thought. All her nerves seemed to be sensitive.
Her stomach seemed to be an entire giant lumpy knot. Thoughts flew through
her head at incredible speed bumped against the other wall and rebounded. The
thoughts had nowhere to go, no place to escape to. What to do? What to do? Oh
What to do? what to do? what to do?
Her dad drilled her on most things when Rebecca was younger. Maybe that
would work? What if Rebecca bribed Christine? She was getting somewhere.
Maybe she shouldn’t think about it now, after all, she had homework to
complete.
Chapter Two
“Hi, Mr. Bridges,” Rebecca hesitantly said while she walked in to the vision
room. She took her steps slowly. She still wasn’t sure about this assignment he
was going to assign her.
“So, um, how is things going for you Mr. Bridges,” She inquired a little
nervously. She pulled out the chair from the short round wooden table, which
was black. She sat down in the chair. She rested her hand atop her backpack
fingering the smooth plastic handle.
“You ready to go Rebecca? We should get going so you can start working
with Christine,” He said this in a matter of fact fashion. Rebecca noted that he
neglected to answer her greeting in a sense.
“Yeah, I, am,” she said hesitantly taken aback,” errm! Let’s go?” She stood
up and turned her bag around. Mr. Bridges walked out with Rebecca. In a sense
she was still uncertain. She brought up the issue with her parents and all they
seemed to offer was to say she could make it through and that she would figure
it out. They walked across the campus to room 904. The skies were gloomy and
the thick sour and bitter mist was oppressive. The bell had rung loudly and
ominously today.
“You stay here for a second, I am going to talk to the teacher here first,”
Mr. Bridges commanded and left Rebecca standing by the rail. The seconds
ticked by slowly every second seem to be shining in red for danger! Rebecca
swallowed hard and tried to tell herself this was nothing she had to fear. The
overcast skies made the day chilly and this cold seeped in to her bones as
depression. She paced about in a circle up and down a little way along the metal
rail. The loud silence surrounded her. Rebecca walked back over towards her
backpack and circled around it repeatedly.
“Rebecca you can come in now,” a jarring voice echoed at the top of the
ramp shattering the silence. It was Mr. bridges. She found the entrance of the
ramp and wheeled her backpack up the ramp. The wheels rumbled loudly on the
ramp. She stepped in to the classroom.
“What does this card say,” Tonya Animus held up a flashcard.
“S, T, I, C, K,” a male voice in the back of the classroom called out.
“stick” A majority of the class responded. Mr. Bridges offered Rebecca an
elbow.
“Take my arm, We’re going to the back,” Mr. Bridges commanded. Rebecca
grabbed on and rapped her hands around Mr. Bridges muscular arms.
Mrs. Animus requested holding up another card, “right, and, here’s a new
one, how about this card?” Some of the students looked intently at the card.
“S, T, A, C, K,” The male student in the back of the class responded again.
“Yes, Danny, that’s how you spell it, now what does that sound like?”
“Sta-ack” A girl said from the back, “is that stuck?
“No, not stuck Andrea, try again, what’s that letter in the middle? How
does it sound like?”
“And what word is supposed to be with an a. Is stuck spelt with an a?”
“a?”
“the a makes the aah sound”
“So what word does these letter spell?”
“A boy in the front of the class shouted Stack! stack! It’s stack!” Rebecca
and Mr. Bridges approached Christine. Mr. Bridges halted. Rebecca’s hand
slackens on his arm and it dropped to her side. Mr. Bridges tapped on a plastic
chair.
“have a seat,” Mr. Bridges told Rebecca. Christine was playing with her
cane and putting it up to her lip. She was fingering both the cane and her lip.
She fingered the smooth body of the cane. She rocked back and forth in her
chair.
David Bridges asked sharply, “Christine what are you on a boat? The
waves must be pretty choppy.” He laughed quietly. Rebecca was unsettled. She
took a mental note of this.
Christine laughed loudly and stated in a loud voice, “Mr. Bridges, Mr.
bridges! I am not on a boat!” She continued to snort and laugh loudly
uncontrollably.
“Christine! you know you have to be quiet! You can’t be shouting like that!
There are other students in here,” Mr. Bridges admonished sternly. His eyes
searching her desk.
“Didn’t you have work to do Christine? I did not see you doing it,” Mr.
Bridges said sharply. Christine looked down she shuffled her small smooth hand
around the table.
“yeah,” She said softly almost inaudibly, “I am.”
“Well, then why not, Christine? You weren’t doing work when I came in,”
He sharply reprimanded and chuckled to himself, “What are you doing with your
hands? Are you shuffling dominos” Her hand stopped and her face wrinkled?
“Mr. Bridges, I am sorry to interrupt but I am not sure what I am
supposed to do or where the stuff to work with her is,” Rebecca inquired. She
had been observing this exchange and was a bit taken aback. She was on the
other hand a bit impatient with it. While these behaviors weren’t to be tolerated,
she didn’t think mockery was a good solution either.
“I had to deal with her first, but yes, I was getting to that,” he responded
and turned to Christine, “This is Rebecca and she will be working with you
around this time every day! You will listen to her and get working! I don’t want
to ever come in again and see you off task. Do you understand!” Christine
shrank in her seat.
“yes,” she said softly.
“Okay, Rebecca here, are the cards she has on the table here,” He said
lifting the soft plastic flash card container and handed it to Rebecca. He tapped
the metal typewriter looking device, and then a thump as he tapped on a thick
stack of papers.
“And, you have the Perkins brailler here. You can work on the alphabet
with her on that, and there is a box of paper right next to it. I’ll come refill the
paper when it’s almost out,” Mr. bridges continued. He picked up a wooden stick
with a rounded cylindrical top. He handed this to Rebecca.
“This is the eraser that you can use with the flash cards. He took
Rebecca’s hand and ran it across the top of the box where there was some
rough circular velvet. He took the eraser back from Rebecca’s hand.
“you can attach this here, like this so you don’t lose it. You’ve worked with
these types of flash cards before haven’t you with Mrs. Medrano back at Roger
haven’t you? I am sure you have,” Mr. bridges instructed. Rebecca set the flash
cards on the table.
“Yes, I have Mr. Bridges. I know how to work with them,” Rebecca replied.
Mr. Bridges took a few steps away.
“Well, I trust you know what you’re doing. I will leave you with her,” He
said. He turned away and walked out of the room. His footsteps seemed rushed
as if away from the gloom and towards the spacious outdoors.
This was it. Rebecca knew. The time to start working. A time to prove she
can be useful. A heaviness fell upon her guts. Was she supposed to fail or
succeed? Time, space, life, and air froze and crystalized. Her body froze and she
could not move it as much as she attempted it. What if she really wasn’t meant
as a Ta? What if she picked the wrong elective? Where would
The question said softly slashed through and rang loudly and abruptly,
“How old are you? “she goes then?” It broke the frozen reality. Rebecca jumped.
“I am 14,” Rebecca answered. She sat there recovering from the shock.
Christine asked another question, “Where did you go for elementary
school?”
“roger.”
“you went to roger? You were there with me?”
“Yes, I did Christine, I remember you well!”
“what’s your last name?”
“Alonzo, but Christine why don’t we get to work? Maybe we should”
“Where do you live?” Rebecca didn’t answer but reached for the box of
paper. She took a deep breath, readying herself to instruct Christine.
“Where do you live?” Christine repeated the question after a minute.
“Oh, just in this city. Here. Let’s work on the alphabet. Do you know how
to load this paper in to the Perkins?”
Christine lifted the lever, which was rounded at the top, and sloppily
placed the paper in the middle of the space where one loaded the paper. the
proper way to load the paper seemed drab and difficult. The classroom was
already hot, stuffy, and was imprisoning. She was always allowed to have fun.
This simply wasn’t fun! Rebecca had stood up and Reached out to check how
Christine loaded the paper to make sure it was correct. Christine had her hands
on the thin metal levers. Christine pushed the levers down and it reached the
bottom with a satisfying clunk!
Rebecca could feel the paper begin to move into the Perkins. The metal
roller was working. Christine had begun to twist the small plastic knob, which
was so nice and smooth even with its ridges, on the metal side of the Perkins.
She reached over further and saw that the paper was not only going in but also
sideways.
“Hang on Christine, would you please stop rolling? If you don’t the paper is
going to Jam,” Rebecca said. Christine kept rolling. Crunch! Crinkle! Crinkle!
crinkle! This was not good. The paper was now jammed in the brailler and
Christine was only making it worse by bunching the paper together even tighter
and making it more compact.
“Stop, Christine! You are going to break this Brailler this way, if you keep
rolling,” Rebecca said a bit frustrated. She put her hands atop of Christine
gently enough, but still firmly. Somehow the fact that the Brailler jamming was
funny to Christine. She started laughing! Short breathy laughs.
“Christine, it’s not really funny. I am going to have to pull this paper out of
the brailler,” Rebecca admonished sternly but gently. Rebecca placed the
flashcards in to the box with the thick brown paper. She placed the paper box
on the floor. She pushed the brailler to the right over towards where she was
sitting with a squeak. The rubber pieces on the bottom of the brailler rubbed
against the wooden table. She proceeded to yank out the paper. She held the
head of the paper which stuck out at the brailler and pulled. It was dislodged.
The crumpled up paper was held in her hands. She just was thankful that the
brailler wasn’t so jammed that more had to be done. She remembered that one
occasion that her own brailler was so badly jammed at home that she had to
turn the brailler upside down, after she borrowed a screwdriver from her father.
She had to unscrew all the screws at the bottom of the brailler, which held in
place the cardboard piece at the bottom and pull out the paper that way. It was
much less fun than this was! Christine was now talking to herself.
“I don’t really want to do this. I want to do something fun. I want to play
with something! alright! I want to play too. What are you playing with? I just
don’t like this! How are you? I want to go home! This is not fun,” Christine
mumbled to herself. Rebecca could hear her rocking back and forth in her chair.
Rebecca took note of this. She wondered what made Christine talk to herself.
“Let’s work on the alphabet, at least maybe a. That’s a really easy one,”
Rebecca encouraged as she pushed the brailler over to the left. She Placed the
box of paper back on the desk and grabbed one under the flash cards.
“here, let’s see, we’ll load the paper together this time.” Rebecca said. She
placed the paper in to the slot, mostly to the left. She found Christine’s hands.
“okay, see, how this paper is kind of just over here to the left? You want to
kind of pull it like this so it’s all the way against the left and make sure it’s all
the way in,” She instructed. She had Christine feel where the paper was
originally. She pulled the paper to the left and had her feel how the paper was
perfectly straight and aligned with the left side of the brailler.
“If you don’t really, it will either Jam like it did when you first loaded it in
or other than that it would just be in all crocket and stuff. And that isn’t good
because that kind of wastes space and throws off the formatting, you know, err.
Yeah, just how it’s structured,” Rebecca continued. She had now had Christine
close the lever on the brailler and started to roll in the paper. Then, she
stopped.
“hmmm… maybe, you know what? It may just be a beneficial idea just to
practice loading the page, Yeah, let’s do that,” Rebecca said letting go of
Christine’s hand and rolled the paper out. She handed the paper to Christine.
“Okay, now you try to put the paper in to the brailler,” Rebecca
commanded. Christine tried was corrected and was told to try again. They
practice loading the paper for a long time. This time didn’t go smoothly
however.
Christine distracted Rebecca by asking, “How old are you?”
“14,” Rebecca answered.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“err…. orange”
“What’s your name again”
“I am rebecca, Christine, but maybe we should focus?” Rebecca did this to
focus them again so the questions did not just continue forever so they could
get work done. The pair would get back to work, but it didn’t last for too long.
Christine inquired, “Where do you live?”
“Just around here actually, closer to Franklin,” Rebecca responded.
“How old are you?”
’14, but why do you want to know? I think we should get back to work.”
And so they did, and this cycle continued.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Animus was working with her students on basic
sentences. She was instructing the class whilst she was writing on the
whiteboard with a squeaky marker. Rebecca was very aware of her background.
She was trying not to be distracted.
“so, as we’ve been working on remember, we practiced yesterday, and I
said, you need someone to do it a subject. James will be our subject here. right
and because we’re just starting, we’ll write simple ones. We need to have more
than that. Something happening and then it’s kind of the end of the sentence,
so a verb like threw and then we’ll say the rest of the sentence is the red ball.
Now we call everything but the end of the sentence a predicate,” She lectured,
“So we’ll try one, Kayla—“
“jumped rope,” a tall girl interrupted chirpily.
Mrs. Animus answered, “okay, that works. And do you know what would
be the subject there Casidy?”
Casidy hesitated, “uh… Jumped?
“It’s kayla! It’s kayla,” another boy towards the back blurted out!
“Yes, Kayla. Look I think that it would be better if we try to work on raising
our hands in this class. We need to practice waiting our turn,” Mrs. Animus
admonished her class. She turned back to the half written on White board. She
wrote the sentence “Kayla jumped rope”
Tonya Animus inquired, “Timothy, what would be our action?” Timothy
thought about it.
“okay, I think that would be jumped. See you can do jumped,” timothy
said authoritatively, “Rope would be like a thing she jumps over.”
“Right, timothy, Let’s come up with another one, Jimmy—“
A girl in the middle of the room shouted, “farted!” Everyone except the
pair in the back and Mrs. Animus laughed. This went on the rest of the class and
they formed sentences and in the back Rebecca and Christine worked on loading
the paper in to the Brailler.
Most of it went well Until Mrs. Animus who had asked someone for a
subject this time around and was answered by a boy who said the name
Katherine.
A boy in the back said “Catherine? Is, It, Spelt, K, A, T, H, E, R, I, N, E?
Or, is, It, K, A, T, H, E, R, Y, N? or, C, A, T, H, E, R, I, N, e? Or, C, A,—“
“Does it matter Jake? I told you earlier you need to stop asking people
how to spell their names,” Mrs. Animus Admonished, “Does it really matter
right now? We’re really trying to focus on making a sentence!”
“Yes, I think you’re getting it, Christine,” Rebecca complemented after a
long while of working to load the piece of paper in to the brailler. Christine for
the last five minutes seemed more flustered. Her hands more constantly relax
and fell on her lap. The motivation to work seemed to evaporate. Unless
Rebecca was holding her hand firmly, her hands was not there actively trying to
load the paper.
“Okay, we’ve been working for 25 minutes, and I see you’re getting tired
maybe we can have a break. There’s like 20 more minutes pretty much right?
Let’s see,” Rebecca said flipping open her braillle device to take a look, “More
like 10 let’s just call it a day, then.” Rebecca picked up the brailler cover that
was on the left of the brailler. It was folded up neatly. Christine was now
randomly pounding on the keys of the brailler. “Christine why are you typing
on the brailler? You shouldn’t be playing around with it. You know the rules
Christine, You know it isn’t good,” Christine said this tsoftly to herself, “I like
playing with the brailler. It’s fun!” Rebecca opened the cover, lifted the metal
handle on the brailler, and placed it on the machine. This talking to herself habit
that Christine experienced was strange, interesting, and disturbing all at once.
Perhaps Rebecca could focus her a bit better on speaking to her or another
person instead of herself.
“Oh yes, Christine, your homework tonight is to practice what we had
gone over with loading the paper. I want you to be practicing how to do that,”
Rebecca said assigning her homework, after suddenly remembering to do so. No
one had said not to assign homework or that she could not do so.
“okay, okay!” Christine said a bit irritatedly. Christine now picks up her
cane and bangs it on the table.
“erm, Christine? What are you doing? I don’t think you want to do that,”
Rebecca said holding on to the bundle of metal sections that Christine was
about to lift back up off of the table.
“I don’t know,” Christine Mumbled and laughed. It was just fun in
Christine’s mind. Just like the rocking it was a form of self-stimulation and that
made it more comfortable for her. In a sense she was kind of hurt that she was
stopped from doing these things. Just like spinning around and around in her
chair at home. It gave her some sense of security.
“Time to go to the buses,” Mrs. Animus announced. Rebecca began to help
Christine get ready, and then Mrs. Animus came over to Escort her outside.
“Good-bye Christine, I’d go with you normally but today I am going to The
Lighthouse,” Rebecca said as they all got ready to file out of the classroom.
————————————————————————————————————————
——
There were lots of children outside on the lawn. It was loud and rowdy.
There were currently half a dozen small yellow school buses. The sun was
burning bright and the skyes were a happy blue. Christine liked being outside, it
was fun and warm!
“Hi, You’re, Christine? How, Do, You, Spell, your, name? Is, It, K, R, I, S, T,
I, N, E? Or, C, R, I, S, T, I, N, E? Or C, H, R, I, S, T, I, N, e? I, Would, Like, To,
Know,” Jake Lamerini Asked in his slow speech.
“C H R I S T I N E,” Christine answered, “I think?” The Aide from Mrs.
Animus’s class came up to the pair.
“Jake You have to get on your bus now, come on,” Ms. Wheat said to Jake
and walked him over to his bus. Soon Mrs. Animus came over to help Christine
over to her bus.
You still struggle with verb conjugation, and your flow is repetitive. You use
the word sweet three times in one sentence. You also switch tenses from past to
present without reason.
I had to stop halfway through c hapter two, the repetitive nature of this was driving me nuts.
This needs a lot of work.
You seriously need to get an editor to go over this. . Read the Elements of Style, and On writing like I suggested in the other post. This is very poor work.
She's got verbal diarrhea. Or should that be literary diarrhea?