novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ducks, pants, bells and spit usually my days move quickly but yesterday sectioned itself off into chapters, sieved itself slowly from the clock into where my wrinkles will go. a full day. a molasses memory. i'll finally admit after everything that i have a poor immune system, and for this fact alone i should not be working around kids, because children willingly cart around bacteria and gleefully spray it on their teachers. cover your mouth when you sneeze! when he gets overwhelmed he just spits. when i pick her up and swing her around she gums my hair and leaves saliva there. so a chest cold, after thursday only half left, but still weakening. The Candy Twin* assigned to me that day did his work in exchange for ring pops. i herded students and teachers into my van for the mall. i herded well. a good day, feeling competent and slightly quiet even at the park three kids sitting next to me discussing japanese cartoons and micheal jackson, the new girl moonwalking and performing for us. The Mighty Duck decided that he was angry. FUCK YOU YOU BITCH FUCK YOU I DON'T LIKE SCHOOL I WANT TO GO HOME FUCK YOU and henceforth throwing sticks, rocks, running away and yelling, all of this and one hand holding up the seat of his unbelted, too-large, out-dated raver pants that he felt so cool in. Duck is not too daunting. autistic but functional and his "violence" is often overshadowed by his whimsical character: his favourite movie is the mighty ducks. he is scared of all animals except for ducks. he mumbles and constantly pats your shoulder. Duck's best friend, The Lounge Singer, one of the kids who i especially love because his haircut makes him look like a monk and he always sings 80's songs whenever you request one, even the most obscure, The Singer threatened to go off because his buddy was. chain reaction emminent. okay. evasive action. act stern and herd children back into van away from Duck. stop coughing. calm down Lounge Singer. try to make eyes look important and authoratative instead of concerned and loving. ten scared autistic children, three tired staff outside and one in the van. having to physically restrain him would be the last option. The Duck's mood could easily dissolve if he were distracted. Duck on the ground pulling at me, slamming himself into the sides of the van. on a cell phone to 911, avoiding his kicks. when the policeman arrived, just as expected, The Mighty Duck switched gears and began to cry. left The Duck, his staff and the policeman calming him at the park while the van herded the remaining kids back to the school. at school, sent envoy of three teachers familiar with The Duck but new to today's behavior to talk him into the car back to school. sat on ground smoking a cigarette for five minutes while kids were herded into vans to go home. avoided Jellybean, a very insistent older autistic man who gets in your face, asks your name, and then what jellybeans you like and dislike. discussed trains with Big Wig, an endearing and compassionate student who insisted on wearing an afro wig whenever he could get away with it. The Duck arrived at school. exited car and hugged me twice, apologizing. discussed emilio estevez. drove van full of kids to their respective homes and group homes, drove myself home. walked to chinese restaurant on grand street next to walden pond bookstore for takeout and a new novel. as i was walking back around the edge of the lake towards my apartment, the gears slowed and calmed themselves. my autopilot switched off and my shoulders relaxed. a wedding finished across the lake at our lady lourdes catholic church. the church bells sang out across the water at me for fifteen minutes, a chimed hymn i remembered hearing the words to when i was seven before my father lapsed catholicism. something about peace and harmony.
9:33 am - 07.27.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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