Special Ed

  Edwin makes me smile and laugh. It’s very difficult to take him seriously, even for a professional like myself.

  The kid always says what’s on his mind, does not know how to lie and has no concept of consequences. His behavior is spontaneous and the things he says are so outrageous. He is definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed, but despite his shortcomings he always manages to live in the moment and stay out of real trouble.

  Ed is performing to an indifferent audience. He is the brother of an East Side Woo Gang rival. Most people are nice to Edwin when he’s not mad or looking for a fight. They feel sorry for him because of his situation.

  Edwin is sixteen years old. He has a fourth or fifth grade reading level and can’t count past one hundred. The kids all say he’s too smart for the school class designed for ‘hockey helmet kids’ but way too dumb for regular courses.

  I’m confident that the lanky lummox is in the ISS Room because he could not figure out how to read the crumpled sheet of paper containing all his class information. Either Ed was not interested in or it did not occur to him to ask for help. ISS was a better idea for him at that moment than his classes because there were GIRLS there.

  Several kids in the room are recalling something Ed and a fellow classmate did last year on the unofficial Day After Halloween Holiday.

  Mr. White and an equally impressionable kid named Mohammed decided on their morning commute to skip classes for the day. Instead of going to school, they found an abandoned house near the next bus stop then spent the early part of the morning there eating candy and smoking weed.

  After getting stoned, Mohammed listened to Bob Marley songs on a stolen IPad and Special Ed rummaged through the vacant house. For some reason or another, the budding explorer was overcome by the urge to climb outside onto an attic fire escape and survey the neighborhood.

  From his rooftop perch Edwin impulsively announced to the world that he was ‘SO FUCKIN HIGH,’ which grabbed the attention of Mrs. Cloretta Henry, who lived next door. She came outside to see what was going on; saw Mr. White, then asked him what he was doing there.

  Being that he was in such a good mood, Ed struck up what he considered a friendly conversation with the little old lady. He nonchalantly asked her to show him her ‘saggy granny titties,’ and if she wanted to smoke some dope with him and his friend Mo, and then proceeded to urinate.

  The affronted woman went inside and called the police. Ed didn’t notice, went back inside and found a secluded crawl space to take a nap in.

  About an hour later two Rochester Police Department cruisers showed up with dogs. The officers called out, demanding that they (Ed and Mohammed) come out of the building immediately. Ed was sound asleep and didn’t hear a thing. Mohammed shouted, “Go take a flying fuck over a rolling donut!” The cops repeated their ultimatum and noted that if they did not come out in the next five minutes they would set the dogs loose on them. That was enough to get Mo out. He was scared of dogs. Ed, though, continued to dream away.

  After Mohammed turned himself in, he was cuffed and the officers went in (without the dogs) looking for Edwin. They did a hasty walk-through of the entire house but assumed Ed had run off when they could not find him. Afterward, the police officers checked Mohammed’s ID and brought him back to school. (He was only fifteen and a company out of California owned the property so convincing the landlord to pursue trespassing charges against Mo would be a major waste of time for the police officers)

  Ed eventually woke up and went on with his day as if nothing unusual had happened.

  The next morning Mo and Ed were sent to ISS for the day as a punishment for skipping school. According to the students I talked to, the indicted duo told everyone in the room an embellished version of their story that involved a lot of running from dogs and gunfire. I know what really happened though because I saw a copy of the police report and the statements both boys gave to their principals who disciplined them.

  Administrators and teachers are usually at a loss when dealing with these kinds of young people because of all the politics, compulsory schooling laws and district policies. How does one compel a defiant and potentially violent underage man-child, whose parents won’t, can’t, or don’t know how to manage him, to behave and learn?

  What worked for these types of kids when they were in elementary school and junior high does not when they are in high school. A dedicated classroom filled with these ‘excitable boys’ (and girls) is not a lost episode of Welcome Back Kotter. They regularly destroy classroom property, instigate fights, come and go as they please, ignore, argue and assault their instructors. These students also get very agitated and aggressive when confronted by authority or expected to perform academically.

  A Conclusion

  Edwin was flailing his arms all over the place and attempting an awkward step dance while yelling the lyrics of various vulgar raps songs he memorized wrong.

  It was not safe for him up there. I told him at least four times to get off the desk but he disregarded my requests.

  He was singing out of sync about girls bouncing their ‘goddamn wet pussies’ on his ‘pencil dick’ like a ‘fuckin’ trampoline,’ smoking ‘lotsa dope’ with his boys and ‘shootin’ up the hood’ with a semi-automatic hand gun.

  I’m not sure he understood a word of what he was saying. I had a feeling that he was high on something and just repeating words he thought sounded good together.

  No sane person would ever give Ed a cap gun, let alone a real one. Even experienced thugs who know how to use a gun have hurt themselves by accident.

  Last February a junior named Bobo Bungles shot himself in the foot while showing off his new pistol to his friends on the corner of Genesee and Sawyer Streets. He claimed it misfired but no one believed him. Edwin with a loaded revolver would be like letting a four year old run free at a candy store.

  After quickly assessing the surroundings Kwinton decided to sit at an empty desk within arm’s reach of Special Ed then got right to work. I noticed, ‘Dev from Callie’ and ‘Fuck the Woos’ was scrawled on its surface in white-out. Someone also had drawn a picture in permanent black marker of a cocked gun being inserted into what appeared to be a vagina clearly labeled as “Rivara-Rivaldo Bitch” and a nearby comment in pencil called the drawer stupid because the principal “likes it up the ass” not in her pussy.

  Once seated, Mr. Jones opened the front pocket of his bag and pulled out a straw and some paper. He started ripping the paper into small pieces and methodically processed each tidbit within the many caverns and crevasses of his moist mouth. Within ten minutes Two-Tun had a fully stocked table-top of saturated spit wads which he started randomly blowing off at unsuspecting people in the room who glared angrily at him and told him to “stop it” or “cut the shit” when splattered.

  I know he wanted to hit me with one but he knew better. It sometimes pays to know private stuff about the kids here.

  Upon using up the first batch of balls Mr. Jones calls Cory a “faggot ass Ronald McDonald” as he begins replenishing his supply. Mr. Connors thought the comment was funny and corrected him by telling Two-Tun to address him as “MR Faggot Ass Ronald McDonald.” Jones continued drilling Cory by asking him, “Does the Hamburgler give good head?” then inquired, “Did Mayor McCheese cum ketchup or mustard after he shoved his thick dill pickle up your poop shoot?”

  Cory retorted quickly and proclaimed, “I give better head than the Hamburgler. Are you interested?” The rapid response cut the heckler right down. He knew better than to say anything more.

  Two-Tun then switched his attention to Ed, who was still boogying by himself on the nearby desk. He shouted, “SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU GODDAMN RETARD!” then kicked the table Ed was standing on.

  The hard knock caused Edwin to lose his balance. He fell and hit his head on the floor. The room went quiet.

  The noise
of Ed’s skull hitting the tile echoed loudly, “CLUNK!” Everyone got up to see.

  Ed was not moving and Cory shrieked, ”EEEWWWW I see blood!” Another kid shouted, “I think Ed’s having a seizure!”

  The ISS teacher got up to make a phone call, but someone turned the lights to the room out before she or I could get to the phone by the door.

  At that moment Kwinton grabbed his bag and yelled “WOOO!” He and Jesus simultaneously darted straight for the door and left the room, slamming the door behind them.

  Before the door shut I saw both individuals bump knuckles then head to the left, towards the closest building exit.

 
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