Harriet Tubman Middle School, special education division, room 065
Harville, Iowa
Charlie’s lip trembled, as often it did when he was nervous. He tapped his right foot and squirmed uncomfortably in the undersized desk. He had only one day of school left before summer, and he didn’t want to be here. The seventh grade wasn’t an easy place for anyone, and Charlie wasn’t just anyone. At thirteen years of age, and six feet six inches tall, weighing over two-hundred and seventy pounds, Charlie didn’t think he fit in anywhere, especially in the public school system.
Charlie’s seventh grade teacher, Mrs. Newman eyed her six charges critically. Charlie sat to her far right, for he was the least of her worries. To Charlie’s left was his best friend, Ken Palmer, who sat at mock attention, idly watching the video playing on the wall panel. The four other children displayed a more than a passing interest in the animated film. Charlie had seen this particular feature at least a dozen or more times, and he and Ken had been quietly blue toothing each other via their pda’s.
Mrs. Newman’s desk terminal monitor had intercepted these transmissions of course, but as it was nearly the end of school, she let it slide. Not that she wouldn’t have anyway, for Charlie and Ken were the only two children in her class that were capable of communicating with one another. By forcing them to use their pda’s to communicate, she achieved two goals that were high on her list.
The first one was to help develop Ken’s hand-eye coordination. Ken had a mild case of cerebral palsy that mostly affected his inner ear and cerebrum, he couldn’t walk well, and generally used a wheelchair. Despite this, he was a very gregarious, outgoing child who had not one ounce of fear in him.
The second, and far more difficult task was to break Charlie McComber out of his shell. At the beginning of the year, Charlie hated being a mutant, hated being different, hated being over six feet tall and hated just about everything and anything around him but recess and physical education. He resented being stuck into a special education class when he was reading at the senior grade level, and was intelligent to understand the underlying bigotry that he was going through. By the end of the year, he’d made a friend.
They had just passed a very less than politically correct joke between the two of them, and while she did ponder jumping down Ken’s throat, the smile on Charlie’s face kept her away from that action. Ken had started to giggle almost uncontrollably, and Charlie was looking around suspiciously to see if anyone had figured out that Ken had just let out a fart that was wafting through air at the speed of teen.
Mrs. Newman opened her mouth to give a minor admonishment when she noticed an indicator on her terminal begin to flash at her. It was a message from Vice-principal Carlson. Mrs. Newman swallowed and wondered what she wanted.
She read and re-read the message a couple of times and then spoke, “Charlie, could you please come here.”
Just loud enough for Charlie to hear, Ken said softly, “busted.”
Charlie’s eyes bugged out of his skull. He looked astonished, and frowned. “I didn’t do nothing,” he muttered and slid his undersized chair back, making a screeching noise. He lumbered forward, his eyes toward the ground.
Mrs. Newman cleared her throat. She spoke in a clear, quiet tone, one that she wanted to keep from the rest of the classroom.
“Charlie, Mrs. Carlson would like to speak with you.” She said.
His eyes looked at her fleetingly.
“Oh. Umm.”
“I don’t know why. Do you know why?” She asked him.
“No ma’am. I haven’t got into a fight with anybody or nothing, honest.”
She nodded, she believed him. “Nevertheless, Mrs. Carlson would like to speak with you.”
“Yes ma’am.” He said.
Charlie trudged toward the door, stealing a look to Ken. It was a loose shrug, the shrug of someone in trouble, and worst yet, having o idea what the trouble was about. Just as Charlie was about ready to pass through the door, Mrs. Newman had no choice but to remind him to take his hall pass, a large red Frisbee which had the letter, ‘M’ stamped on it. He looked ashamed as he went out the door and down the hall, taking a left, out of the portable and down the ramp. From there, along the outside of the school, and into a side hallway. As the hall pass that had an RFI id chip in it, none of the automated hall monitors stopped him. He trudged, rather than walked, his oversized hands trying to cover the “M” in case someone should see him.
One at the office, he stood at the desk until one of the human secretaries turned to him.
“Um, ma’am, I’m here to see Mrs. Carlson. My name is Charlie McComber.”
She looked at him coolly, “have a seat, Mister McComber.”
Charlie took one of the seats against the wall, and waited. And waited.
Arva Carlson sat at her desk, looking at Charlie through one of the many cameras mounted in the ceiling. She pulled up his personal profiled, and, more importantly, she pulled up the request of his mother for alternative education. She realized that Charlie’s mutation, Homo Mutatus var Strongaria made him an obvious target. In reading over Mrs. Newman’s reports, she had to balance this with her suggestion that Charlie not go to alternative education, that he be mainstreamed. Such things, of course, were out of the question in this day and age, but Mrs. Newman was an old school teacher. It didn’t take her long to reach her choice, all the while Charlie sat outside and stewed.
After twenty minutes or so, she tapped at her panel, sending an indication to the front secretary who then spoke to Charlie.
“Mrs. Carlson will see you now, Mister McComber.”
Charlie swallowed as she pointed to the door with the Vice-Principle’s name on it.
He stood, gingerly opened the door, ducked his head low through the doorway and looked at her half in, and half out of the door.
Mrs. Carlson looked at him and nodded, she gestured to a chair, “Mister McComber, do have a seat. This won’t take long.”
“Yes ma’am,” Charlie replied.
“I’ve been looking over a request regarding you on my desk, and I have to weigh some difficult decisions about your future in our public school system.”
“I didn’t get into no fight, honest, I didn’t!” Charlie gasped, his heart rate elevating.
“I know. I also know your reading, math and comprehension skills are all well above the special education classroom you’ve been placed into. Yet, when you’re placed into a standardized classroom, your peers ignore you, or bully you. Clearly, Charlie, that’s not a healthy place for you, either.”
Charlie blinked his eyes a few times, processing that. She continued.
“Your mother, on the other hand, has just finished up enough supplemental education so that she can receive her assistant’s license. She and I have been working out the details about her working as an extension of Gigopolis U.”
“You mean like a home school?” Charlie asked.
“Not exactly. More like a long-distance learning. Your mom would be available locally in order to answer questions and give you direct instruction, but you’d be under direct daily supervision from the University. I’ve been told they have an excellent mutant rural outreach group there.” Mrs. Carlson replied.
“Well, yeah, that’s what my ma told me. She said when I got old enough that I could probably go to school there without any problem.”
“Look at it this way, Charlie. You don’t have any more worries, you don’t have to get up, come here on the transport, get picked on, get into fights or worry about fitting through doorways.”
“So you’re like, throwing me out of school?” He asked.
“Look at it like a transfer. Next September, when you start your education again, it will be via the internet, not in a brick-and-mortar school.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Just try to not get into any fights between today and tomorrow, okay?” She said, smiling at him.
“I won’t ma’am. I haven’t fought any for like since before Thanksgiving. Mrs. Newman says I been doing real good.”
“Yes, you have, Charlie. Good luck in your new school.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Charlie said.
Charlie stood, stooped through the doorway and went back to his classroom, Frisbee in hand, taking the same cautious route that he had before. Sullenly, he returned to his seat.
Mrs. Newman eyed him and tapped a message to him from her desk. The movie still played, and school would let out in all of fifteen minutes.
“Are you okay, Charlie.”
He shrugged at her, by way of reply. Ken too, was worried.
“Dude, what happened,” he whispered.
“I ain’t coming back,” Charlie said. His lower lip quivered.
Ken’s eyebrow arched. “They kicked you out?”
“Well she didn’t say that,” Charlie said, speaking loud enough for the classroom to hear. It didn’t make any difference any more. “I got to take internet classes now.”
Mrs. Newman closed her eyes and shook her head softly. Charlie watched her, his teen eyes soaking in every emotion. He knew she was displeased, so he also knew that she either didn’t want this to happen or had somehow tried to fight it. He knew then that she was really on his side, and not just telling him crap to shut him up. He wished he’d believed her sooner, but now, it was too late.
“So like, um, tomorrow is it?” Ken said.
“I won’t come tomorrow, man. What’s the point?”
Ken’s eyes got big, and despite the teen’s confidence his voice trembled, “dude, man, that’s not cool, just show up for the last day, okay?”
“I’m a fucking mutie, Ken. I’ll always be a mutie. They can always rebuild your legs and spine man, but there’s nothing they can do for a mutie. Fucking nothing, man.”
The bell run, Charlie picked up his knapsack and walked out on a heel. As a last parting shot, he slammed his fist into his desk and cracked the lexan top. His face was a mask of something between anger and tears. He boarded the, ‘short’ bus, reserved for special education students with physical needs. He was only able to sit in the far back, and used a special harness for safety. The journey took just under an hour.
He trudged up the road to his house, knowing there would be no one home, which suited him fine. He went into the back barn and turned up his music very, loud and cried. He hated being a mutant.
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June 2007 
CarolineTigeress
Access: Public
Really cool story!