A Lack of Meaning

Budget cuts affect students more than any political high horse in Lansing could dream. Limited funding takes away from the richness of a learning and turns schools into forced institutions rather than valuable life experience.

I first noticed something was up with the school district when in fifth grade the A.I. (Autistic Impaired) program at my school suddenly disappeared. My curiosity for people not like me and need to nurture made me closer to the kids in that program than many of my “peers”.

One boy in particular stuck out. Maybe because he was younger, maybe because I could related to him more, but most likely because of how he felt about me. For any reason, I remember Jacob very well. He had light, light hair and very pale skin. He was a little shorter than the ridiculous “intercom” on the upper-el playground. He wore the most peculiar ring around his neck that he sometimes chewed or sucked. His teacher said it was because he ground his teeth.

Initially I was drawn by how babyish he was. In his first year at McKinley, he was anywhere between five and eight, but he acted more like a one year old. Here enters my need to nurture.

So I followed him around the play ground for a day or two and “helped” him with the playground equipment. I asked all kinds of questions of the A.I. teachers, but they were for some reason unhappy about my curiosity. Their attitude towards me was so strange; in fact, I ignored it until they broke my heart.

The teacher I only remember from her wrinkled face and Bride of Frankenstein hairdo decided it was a bad idea for me to play with Jacob, and told me I wasn’t allowed to anymore. I brushed it off like I did with all upsetting things at the time, and put it aside to ponder later.

The next day I was sitting on the chains that I loved to balance on or swing from or hang upside on. Today, I was just sitting. The night away from school hadn’t been enough to pick me up.

I don’t think he was looking for me. It’s hard enough for a normal five year old to remember someone without any reason to, or hint about it. But when he stumbled across me I got up to walk away. I was literally turning around, and Jacob grabbed my hand.

As you can imagine, the Bride of Frankenstein was not pleased. She looked at me with a scowl as Jacob led me around to his favorite part of recess- climbing up the stairs and running across the bridge. I was flustered and at a loss of words when she opened her mouth, but my loyal friend came to my aid with, “He came to her.” The woman looked puzzled, then pleased. It should have struck me as strange, but I was so excited to have my friend back and still upset with her that all I could think of was escape.

The year after that was fifth grade. On the first day of recess I ran expectantly to the playground, only to find it empty for all I was concerned. After two days of a no-show, I peeked into the A.I. room to find it empty.

Again I was crushed, but I was too big now to fuss over my emotions.

The rest of the year was lacking something I now understand to be depth. When everyone in your environment is a bird of the same feather, it’s hard to find individual personality. Merging the elementary schools only increased this affect, but that is another topic for another blog.

If we want to mold well rounded, unique and sympathetic children, we can’t afford to cut special programs. If the goal, however, is to produce ill adjusted, apathetic drive by shooters, budget cuts are the way to go.

I would opt for the first, and be willing to lay the ground work for a better future, even if it means less money for state prisons and poorer roads. Unfortunately, what I want for myself and my future children, my niece and nephew, doesn’t match up with what the present generation wants for themselves.

New car anyone? How ‘bout an all interest mortgage?