In Your Dreams

Special Ed

I had long ago given up trying to be invisible as I made my way to the 'special' classroom. The rest of the high school flowed past, as they always did, only aware that another idiot was making their way to the room for those whose brains hadn't formed right.

The colorful, elementary school-like decorations didn't help. Even so, I found myself blowing out the tension from the hallway walk as I closed the door behind me.

Wyatt saw me first, as he always did, and greeted me with a wide, toothy grin. A small head brought out his large ears, though his face and jaw hadn't followed with the rest of the program, remaining normal sized, making the smile seem as large as the room.

"Tenny!" he crooned.

"Wyatt!" I crooned back. Here was someone who wouldn't think me an idiot. He probably never even had a thought to differentiating idiots and non-idiots.

There were four other students in the special education room. A girl sat in one of those full body wheelchairs, barely able to move with floppy, doll-like limbs strapped into place, but who flipped her head around to give me an equally bright, goopy smile.

I waved to her. "Hi Beth."

"Could you wipe her face for me, Tenny?" asked the teacher, Jessica, who had her attention on another boy. "Mary isn't here yet and I'm a bit overwhelmed."

Which I could see, as the other two boys, both with facial features that broadcasted their mother's liberal use of alcohol while pregnant, had their faces screwed up at each other and the computer screen between them. The boy Jessica had her attention on had down syndrome and had somehow tangled up his fingers in a bunch of yarn and was in tears.

I did so, using the ever present rag on the arm of her chair.

"Tenny, how's your math going?" asked Wyatt.

"Better. I actually managed to pass my final."

"That's great!"

I tried to look as happy as him. "Thanks." Then, unable to help it, I sighed and returned Beth's rag to her chair's armrest.

Beth frowned at that and wagged her head between the cushioned braces of her chair.

"What's wrong?" Wyatt asked.

"Even though the teacher gave me a vocal test, I still only got a C. Barely." I plopped down in the chair besides him at the 'crafts' table, where yarn boy and Jessica struggled.

"That's good."

"But I want to be better."

I had to be. A 'C' grade wouldn't make up for all the D's and F's of my assignments, and I could tell the teacher was ready to give up on me and push me back into the special ed classroom for good.

My vision got all blurry. I didn't fight the tears. Wyatt and Beth wouldn't judge. The twins at the computer never cared what others felt. And Jessica and Henry, the down-syndrome boy, would probably benefit from the distraction from their own trials with the yarn.

Wyatt's finger wiped at my cheeks the moment tears appeared.

For the umpteenth time I wanted to wail that I wasn't stupid, but I couldn't say that surrounded with kids like these. I couldn't call Wyatt stupid.

"It's okay, Tenny." He stroked my cheek, even without the tears. "Good girl, Tenny. It's okay. You're smart."

See? Wyatt thought so.

"But I use math all the time at work! Why does it—" I sniffed. "Why can't I still not...algebra's stupid. Why do I even need it?"

"Well, there's your answer," said Jessica as soothingly as she could above the growing wails of Henry. "I doubt you use the order of operations when you change out car parts. You're not stupid, dear, you're just very hands on. It's a reflection on him as a teacher at this point, because I know you're not—oh, Henry!"

The boy had suddenly slammed his tied up hands on the table, knocking her glasses to the floor. As she dived to catch them, I got up and made my way to his side.

"He got some glue in there," I said softly, picking at the first, white encrusted knot. If Jessica had been able to use scissors this would have been solved by now, but Henry was deathly afraid of anything sharp.

The moment he saw my fingers on the knots, Henry calmed.

"Tenny, why you sad?" he asked.

"Pay attention," snapped Wyatt. "Her teachers are jerks."

"Oh," he said quietly, becoming enrapt as I undid the first knot with ease.

Teacher Jessica puffed a sigh from her nose and checked her glasses in the light. "If I had just asked you to do this from the beginning this would have been over by now. And after I said you were good with your hands and everything."

Within a minute, the yarn was undone and Henry was free. He let out a cheer and hugged me.

"Tenny's smart!" he cried.

"I already said that," said Wyatt irritably. His moods switched easily, like lightning. Came with the territory of his disorder.

"Wyatt's jealous," said one of the twins suddenly, flashing a diabolical, lopsided grin. His brother took advantage of his distraction to monopolize the computer.

A short, tense battle ensued where Wyatt and the twin did a fair bit of yelling that, of course, would have alarmed any normal classroom, but was part of the game with ours. Then Wyatt had another mood switch and went to a corner to brood over his English assignment, which was a graphic novel of the Odyssey. Unlike me, he could read, albeit slowly and only when accompanied by pictures.

Despite knowing he'd rather be left alone, I wandered over and squatted alongside him.

"Could you read to me?" I asked quietly. I hated asking that question, but, more than anything right now, I needed a story.

Without hesitation, he started to read out loud in his slow, halting way. I didn't mind. Not at all.

Jessica tried to involve me in a science lesson with the others, but since I was several levels higher than the others, she didn't push it, and I was allowed to spend the rest of the day with Wyatt's imperfect, but steady, reading.