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30 JULY 2010
NO 1609
A grateful student
W hen I was an elementary school student in 1983, I was a very intelligent and very frustrated 11 year old who didn't understand how I could have such a high IQ and still suffer from a learning disability. I didn’t understand my behavior disability or know how to cope with it. I had decided that I would not trust any adults or classmates. The school system thought the best answer might be for me to participate in classes with the teachers who specialized in cases like mine at The Rutland Center.
My first memories are of being very angry at being told what to do, resenting being shipped off to a special campus. Looking back, I can see where I was resisting a change that made all the difference in the world. It was a place where people who had some understanding of my frustrations and emotions were able to create an environment where my assets could stand in a positive light and I could get the understanding that I needed.
At Rutland we had a sort of motley crew of problem students, all from different backgrounds and with different problems, and by the end of my tenure, they were some of the closest friends I had developed to that point.
I fondly remember that The Rutland Center was one of the first places anyone had said that I could be the leader, gave me the benefit of the doubt, and trusted me with responsibilities. When I made a mistake and lost those responsibilities, it was also a first. In the spring of my first year there, I was taken out of the regular classroom and given the opportunity to help teach a younger class of students for an hour each day. For the first time, I could see how they really looked up to me. My self-esteem really started to rise! It was the first time anyone had ever looked up to me. I did well for a time; then the admiration went to my head. I misbehaved and a teacher warned me in private that I might lose my position. Because of my behavior, I had never had anything to lose before. This was my first experience with consequences. Since I heeded the warning, I was able to stay in the classroom for the three weeks remaining in the year, and the students all made a huge pillow as a gift for me. They all signed it and thanked me for helping them.
For a class experiment, we finished out the year with a whole section on bicycles. We did elementary research and wrote reports, did worksheets, and worked as a class to raise enough money to buy all six students bicycles for the summer. Although I come from a middle class background, some of the students were from lower income brackets and couldn't afford bicycles on their own. I myself needed a new bicycle and relished the thought of buying one on my own. We had the owner of a local bike shop come in and help us overhaul the used bicycles we bought, and everyone got a real sense of accomplishment. I know I had never repacked headset bearings before. One incident from that experience really stands out in my mind. The class was holding a car wash as part of the bicycle project, and I was goofing off more than working. I was actually antagonizing the other students by "accidentally" squirting them with the hose and such. We held a class discussion and the other students said they felt I didn't earn my share of the take that day. With teacher direction, they all gently confronted me. I was crushed. During recreation hour for the next two days, I washed cars alone. For the first time I actually earned some respect from my contemporaries. This seemingly minor incident was a big personal victory. I actually did something to earn the respect of others and received it, because I was in an environment where I was able to excel.
Since I was bright, I had figured a way to misbehave without getting into trouble by making lots of word puns and talking circles around many of my elementary school teachers and other adults. The Developmental Therapy Program helped me work through that. For a class exercise, I was to pretend that I was a newspaper reporter who was interviewing a grand pianist. I drew a figure in purple crayon and wrote down questions and answers. I named the character Phineas Phart, certain that name would get a good reaction. Instead, I wound up writing a pretty good piece of fiction about the art of the pianist. I actually enjoyed writing and saw a good side to it. Quite an accomplishment, considering that I disliked and resisted schoolwork so much that there was talk of my having a writing disorder, although nobody really knew, since I wouldn’t write enough to find out. In sixth grade I was doing well enough to go back to full days in regular school and went on to graduate high school and then graduated college. Through college and after graduation, I worked as a newspaper reporter at the college paper and also professionally for a number of years and even got my BA degree from the University of Alabama in English and mass communications. Presently I work as a professional writer in Atlanta, Georgia. It is with the utmost in gratitude that I thank Dr. Quirk and the other teachers at Rutland for their help in my upbringing. My ability to function today is much attributable to the help and care they gave me.
MICHAEL BRAUNSTEIN
Braunstein, M. (2003). Memories of developmental therapy.
Reclaiming Children and Youth, 12, 2. pp. 76-77.
