In our school, we did not have a gymnasium, but we had a large cafeteria with a small stage in the corner. In front of the stage was a “pit” with stairs gradually becoming level with the floor. This space was used for seating for very small assemblies. It was probably a good three and half feet from the floor to the bottom of the pit.
My second year of teaching was so much easier to face at the beginning than my first year. I knew the students, we had a great routine and I knew I was a “sure thing” for the entire school year. As a bonus, a new teacher was teaching next to me. She had the younger students with the severely handicapped label. Her name was Pat and her aide, Delores, was another wonderful person. Since I felt more comfortable with my students, I was able to look around a bit more and start to develop friendships with the staff around me.
As part of our schedule this year, we were invited to participate in a music class once a week. We had played a lot of music with our students, so when we were able to go to another part of the school to “sing,” it added an element of excitement. Joe and Eric were especially excited when it was time to go sing with Miss Jayne. Jayne was very good with the students allowing them to dance and move as they could. It was just plain fun!!
One Tuesday (music day), we came back from lunch and washed up. We had been allowing Joe to push Dawn’s wheelchair in the classroom for several weeks. He took the job very seriously and puffed up with importance if we asked him to help out. Pat, an experienced special education teacher, had suggested that if the kids feel the jobs they had to do were important, it would build responsibility. I totally agreed with her and Joan and I worked on a “chore chart” so all the students that could would have a job of some sort. Joe’s job was to help push Dawn’s wheelchair. On this particular day, he was allowed to push Dawn to music class. He did a beautiful job, watching out for those around him and carefully maneuvering her into place once we arrived at the music room.
“Good job, Joe,” he affirmed himself somewhat hesitantly.
“Great job, Joe!” I said as he Tigger-jumped to his seat.
It was an exceptionally fun music class that day. The kids were pumped, the staff was pumped and we all felt significant in this great universe of ours. Joe did such a great job pushing Dawn to music class, I told him he could push her back to our class. We exited the door near the back of the cafeteria. I don’t know what happened to Joe to cause what happened next. I just know that he started running with Dawn’s wheelchair. She had her arms up in the air and the biggest grin on her face…until he came to the pit. I wish I could say he came to a sudden stop, but he didn’t. Right off the side of the pit went the wheelchair. Laying at the bottom of the pit was Dawn.
“Goddammit Joe, don’t you cuss!” Joe immediately retreated to his old comfort statement.
Joan and I ran to Dawn. She was laughing hysterically, still strapped into her wheelchair. Carefully, we got the chair upright and checked her out. There was a small knot on her head, but otherwise she looked fine. We (nervously) called her mom who immediately came to check her out. It was decided she was fine and we all continued with our day. Needless to say, Joe was banned from pushing the wheelchair from that moment on. However, I think Dawn was very disappointed with this decision as what we considered a “pitfall,” she considered the “ride of her life!”
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