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  • Retard School...



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  • This is my Blog...There are many like it, but this one is mine...

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        Wednesday, June 18, 2008

    Retard School...

    I was a 'gifted child'. Most of you probably don't know what that means. It means that adults spot that you're 'different' right off the bat, and that the other kids will kick your ass every day for that difference.

    That happened to me my first couple of years in school, until I kinda freaked out, and my parents pulled me out of school, and I took a year off. They told me I was 'small for my age'. Nope, I was too young to be in school, but I was pushed into it because I was such a fucking genius. I learned early on not to hold my hand up to answer questions from the teacher. Especially as mine was mostly the only one up.

    So, I'm out of school, and essentially homeschooling, though I don't believe that concept had been invented yet. Then my parents heard of this teacher at a private school named 'Mrs. Manspeaker' who taught what passes for 'special education' way back then. What, 1960 or so? Whatever. So, I met with her, she accepted me (and my parent's money) happily, and they began to take me to her every day.

    Mrs. Manspeaker had at least a dozen students. And they were all retards. Or mongoloids. Kids in wheelchairs that lolled their heads around and drooled. My peer group. Well? What do you think a six year old boy is going to think about himself when you say to him 'here you are, you belong here'?

    Parents, please don't do that to your kids.

    The school was her house, and as I recall, we spent most of the time out in the back yard. I sincerely doubt that there was any kind of oversight back then. And the only memories I have from that time that were in the slightest bit educational, were the books and encyclopedias I devoured at home.

    Now, I know in my brain that my parents were trying to do their best for me, as best they understood how, and as best they could. My mother is an analytical genius, a musical prodigy, and she is as crazy as a box of bats. My Dad is crazy smart, and crazy stupid, in equal portions. He is fully ambidextrous, and couldn't read because of it for decades, because one eye wanted to read one page, and the other the other.

    And they made me. Everything I am today.

    You're welcome.