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Tyler Mathews

ENG 1101-515

Prof. Dunham

7 September 2018

The First Day of Forever

“Get off of me!” I shouted, or at least I thought I did. How do you explain to a

teacher that you don’t like being touched? How do you tell them that your mental illness

doesn’t define your ability to learn? I was really trying to figure out how to answer those

questions in the third grade. I think I was a little too young to understand these things,

but I was thrown into it. However, as I lay there screaming and trying to squirm free of

Mrs. B’s hands I began to question everything about myself as a student, the roles of

teachers and school staff, and whether or not “normal’ school was even for me at all.

The desks seemed really small and although the room was a typical size as far

as I knew, it seemed overfilled with all of those student desks with connected seats, the

tiny windows that I could barely see anything out of, and the kids stuffed in like a can of

sardines. Everyone was looking at me, but then again, they always did. I don’t know if

Mrs. B didn’t like me or she just didn’t know how to work with me, but she always

seemed to be pushing my buttons and it really felt like she did it on purpose to get me to

react so that I would be suspended again. This type of thing has happened before with

her. She always seemed nice to most of the other students in the class, but it felt as

though the moment she realized I was not “normal”, she had it out for me. This time
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however, was different. This time, I didn’t only get suspended, I got the police called on

me and Mrs. B threatened to press charges on me.

Every day in the third grade started with me being packed into the tiny room,

being unable to sit still, and just being me. The problem was that being me meant that

the teacher didn’t like me and I couldn’t ever do anything right. “Can’t you just sit still?”

she would ask. No, no I could not, but of course I never said that. I was obviously way

too young to know how to advocate for myself at that point.

Someone cut me in line, it upset me because our time to eat was already very

short and when I pointed it out to the teachers, they didn’t do anything about it. This

upset me because whenever I do anything at all, she always punished me. “Don’t touch

me!” I screamed. Did I really just get taken to the ground and held down by a full-sized

adult woman because I got upset when people cut me in the lunch line? Not only did

Mrs. B hold me down, so did another teacher that I don’t know. I don’t like being

touched and my mind races when people touch me without my permission. I do the

only thing that I think I can do to defend myself, I bite Mrs. B. It doesn’t work though,

she’s still holding me down, only now they have called the police and my Mom.

I see a man approaching me, he is wearing dark blue pants and a dark blue shirt.

Then I notice the belt on his waist full of tools he needs for his job including a taser, his

handcuffs, and other items. “Get up!” He exclaims. I do as he asked and he grabbed

me by the arm and led me to the office. As I sit there trying to figure out what exactly is

going on, all I can focus on is wondering where my Mom is. She was going to be so

mad at me, I was sure of it.

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After what seems like hours, I see my Mom walk through the front door and even

though I want to run to her so she can help me, they immediately make her go into the

principal’s office with some people I don’t recognize. They instructed me to join them

too. This lady with brown hair and glasses on her face begins talking to my Mom and

telling her what happened in the cafeteria. She then starts telling my Mom that she has

to do something with me or I will end up being taken away from her. “What is that

supposed to mean?” I questioned, but no one answered. My Mom was crying now and

clearly overwhelmed by this situation. My Mom is my best friend, but my Mom is young

and taking care of my brothers and me by herself, she didn’t need this stress.

“Your son needs help and you need to get it for him. If you don’t, he will probably

be taken away from you and we know you don’t want that.” The unknown lady said.

Were they really threatening my Mom? She didn’t even do anything wrong. My Mom

must have become upset at this point because she told the lady she knows the law and

she knows that they can’t take her son away for this. The police officer interjected and

told her he could “just take her to jail” for not following the directions from who I now

know as the social worker from Children’s Services. My Mom began crying and

seemed really scared, but she defended me anyway. “Someone explain to me why

anyone would find it appropriate to put their hands on my son and put him on the

ground just because he became upset!” She exclaimed. “They were just protecting

other students from your son” said the Social Worker. “Protecting them from what? He

would never hurt anyone!” Mom replied. “Well he did hurt his teacher, Mrs. B, in fact he

bite her and she is considering pressing charges on your son” The Social Worker

answered. “This is absolutely ridiculous” My Mother said.

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It seems like my Mom and the social worker talked in circles about what had

happened and what they were going to do when I finally started to understand what they

wanted my Mom to do. “You need to admit him into a behavioral hospital where he can

get the care he needs because clearly he doesn’t belong in a regular school and has

serious mental health issue.” explained the Principal. “You are all out of your minds and

clearly targeting him because you don’t want to learn how to work with him, you just

want him gone so you don’t have to deal with him!” my Mom yelled. Now that she said

it, it really makes sense, Mrs. B never did want to work with me and I’d overheard her

complaining about me many times. In fact, she’d once said I belonged in the MRDD

classroom.

My Mom withdrew me from the school that same day and enrolled me into

another elementary school in the same city. That encounter that day taught me so

much about life, but especially about how a teacher can have such an impact on you

and your attitudes, habits, successes, and failures throughout your lifetime and

especially toward school. This event could have gone completely differently. I could

have been even harder on myself and taken the opposite road that I did and just give up

on myself, believe I was a failure, and never excel in school or in other areas of my life.

Luckily or me, I met the teacher that would change my life at that new elementary

school. She fought for me, with me, and made sure people really knew who I was and

what I was capable of. I feel I owe her a lot of credit for how I learn now. She knew all

about what happened at my old school too, but she still believed in me. I may only be in

the eighth grade right now and I have a lot more life to experience however, that

experience has changed me and the way that I view my abilities.