novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- teaching the teacher yesterday was a graduation ceremony for six of the autistic/SED kids who attend the school i work at. the ceremony marks their passing into different programs because they have reached the limit of the school's age boundaries. twenty-two. green caps and gowns. parents. streamers. administrative figureheads who have nothing to do with the school on a real basis. i wedged myself between two nonverbal kids and placated them into sitting through the entire ceremony. and i cried, half out of pride for them, half out of the awareness that most of these kids will go on to day programs that cart them around like listless livestock. they might get an art class here and there, if they're lucky, but for the most part the rest of their lives will be spent sedentary. stemming. unchallenged and bored. one of the boys who graduated is on my route. we play slug bug while driving to school. he explains the finer mechanisms inside dragsters and dances whenever the rolling stones come on the radio. i realised yesterday that he is one of my best friends. is that weird? to feel so close to a twenty-two year old autistic boy obsessed with mens' forearms? he was so nervous on the way to school. very concerned that the drivers in his new program would not play slug bug with him. would not humor him. i reassured him that they would. even if they don't, he'll survive. once he gets used to his new routine, he'll embrace it. i have to remember to give my guys credit for being as adaptable as they are. they may be autistic but they can live through almost anything, with a few behaviors along the way. goodbye burpy. sweet robot. buddy. doug martsch. grabby goblin. everybody. good luck. 8:57 pm - 06.13.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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