ENTRY 6

A REBEL ON WHEELS

Juanita  Randall. The only person  I had ever known who'd traveled all over the world. She had even ridden a camel in Egypt. I was impressed., I could not wait to be in high school so I could have her as a teacher. (Well, there was another reason. A high school girl was always given the role of  Mary in my school's  Christmas play. By the time I got to high school, the nativity scene had been removed from the play. I am not bitter or anything.)

Miss Randal was a no-nonsense teacher. The curriculum that she taught was just like any other high school. Her students learned Spanish, and read Charles Dickens and Shakespeare.  A requirement for graduation was that all seniors submit a term paper. If a student's paper did not meet her standards the student did not graduate. That never happened, but it was a motivation for students to do their best. 

My school began accepting students who were at all different levels of cognitive development. Miss Randall could not adapt to the way the school was changing. One day she walked out. She never looked back.

Adios Español.  So long, term papers. Cheerio Shakespeare. When Miss Randall walked out those courses left with her. I was crushed

Enter Penny. A hip, kinda kooky young woman who was our teacher, but wanted to be our friend. "Call me Penny," she told us. It took us a while. Scratch that. It took me a while to get over the disrespectful feeling I got every time I called her by her first name.

Because of the cognitively diverse group of students we now were, I knew that I wasn't learning what I needed in preparation for college. I'd had enough. "You're not teaching us anything!" I yelled at Penny one day. "What happened to the class in journalism? Our heated conversation was the talk of the school for a day or two. Nothing changed. I realized that Penny was doing the best she could under the circumstances.

I wanted Miss Randall to speak at my graduation.  I was not the only one in my class who wanted her as our speaker. One of the teachers assured me that she would not accept the invitation. None of the teachers had heard from her since the day she'd walked out. Miss Randall and I spoke on the phone occasionally. I was sure she would accept my invitation if I told her how much it would mean to our class.  I refused to back down. I think my class threatened to go on strike. I was told if we didn't drop the issue none of us would graduate. I dropped the issue. The former principal was our graduation speaker.

Thank you, Miss Randall, I hope wherever you are you know that the semester I  had you for a teacher left a big impression on me. You were the best teacher Elias Michael ever had. You believed we would succeed. You were preparing us to do so.  You were not as tough as you wanted us to think you were. You were completely different outside of your classroom. You were relaxed. Not tough as nails.  You were cool.

That was the first time I rebelled against the norm, Against authority/ I shocked everyone kid with a disability in the 1970s wasn't supposed to have opinions.  Hmm, How do you think I'd look in a black leather jacket?