Page 155 - From the Outhouse 4 -21

155 | P A T R I C I A R A E M E R R I T T W H A T L E Y

My classroom was comprised of seven boys plus one girl, and all of them had learning or behavioral disabilities. They were a mixture
of primary educable mentally handicapped students who ranged in age from 7 to 13 years. There was also an intermediate special

education class that my colleague taught. She also assisted me with my classroom organization and helped me develop a structured

curriculum. My thought at that time was that I would be my students’ savior, but I quickly learned that was not a good idea.

We had a variety of live birds in our classroom. I had one student that would sneak up on the birds, wound them, patch them up, and

still kill them! One day, the oldest student of the group chased all the students in the class down the hall with a hammer while I was
in the restroom. Another student wanted to be perfect and would turn over a table if he made a mistake on his paper. This same

student once threw a window rod at me that barely missed my head and eyes. He was treated at Vanderbilt University in Nashville for

his outbursts. As his teacher, I was asked to attend one of his conferences at Vanderbilt. The psychologist told the panel and me that
this young fellow was their failure. Would you believe that? What was I supposed to do as a newcomer to the field of special education,

if these scholars had failed?

The next incident that I experienced put the icing on the cake for this class. I had a piano brought into my room to create a musical

atmosphere, and it worked out well for a while. In fact, I taught songs and formed a dance group for both the primary and intermediate
classes. Again, while I was in the restroom, the student that I left in charge came knocking on the restroom door. He said that I needed

to come quickly because there was a terrible accident in the class. When I got there, I couldn’t believe my eyes. One student had
jumped on the piano, and the piano fell on his leg because one of the piano legs was weak. Oh, my God! I was petrified. I had to call

for help at the office – principal, parents, ambulance arrived on the scene.

I was crying hysterically. Now, everyone knew of my classroom issues. The news had spread that I was a new teacher “trying to cope

with my class.” The idea that I had come to deliver these students from their disabilities by treating them with compassion and not a