all the lies and fears will stick to me like glue

On Friday my adorable class of grade eights begged me to let them climb up into the fly gallery of the theatre and wander around on the catwalks. I said no at the time because I didn't want to be up there with thirty kids to supervise. So instead I told them they could go up there if they came in on their own time (lunch hour) and asked me then. I assumed they wouldn't do that because kids rarely do come back on their own time for any reason.

Imagine my surprise when lunch time came and not only were there five kids crowding their way back into my classroom (on their own time, no less) but one of these girls was my student with cerebral palsy who is in a wheelchair.

I wasn't sure what to do with this situation at first, given that there are two long flights up stairs up into the fly gallery and one small ladder. I looked at her grinning face with some dismay and she said, "Don't worry, I can walk."

I hadn't really realised she could walk at all. She can walk a bit, with support. And so, with more determination than muscle, my four other students grabbed onto her and helped me heave her up the stairs. The ladder was a real challenge but we made it.

And the railings around the flies were sturdy enough to provide some good handholds.

By the time we got her back down the ladder (I had to carry her) I was ready to faint from exertion but the girl we installed back into her wheelchair and sent on her way was absolutely glowing with happiness.

On Wednesday in class, that same girl had broken out crying. When I asked her what was wrong she told me she missed her mother (her parents are divorced and Mum lives in Mexico) and then also admitted that she felt she had no friends at our school and that she had no one to eat lunch with. And added to all that was her frustration at her inability to do the same things that all the other kids could do. It was a heartbreaking moment for me and one which made me wonder what I'd do, as a professional counsellor, with a student in a situation like this. As a non-professional, as plain old me, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tight and said, "It's not your fault. None of it is your fault."

The fact she showed up on Friday with four friends (with whom she'd eaten lunch) and got to do the exact same thing they were doing, even though it really wasn't something she should have been doing, was monumental. I'd probably be in big trouble if my administration knew about it. I'd still do it again.



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