By Kenda - June, 7th 2013

Prompt: Write about someone you went to elementary school with.

 

My first thought was of William.

At least, I think his name was William. My brain tells me it was, but sometimes my brain lies. Regardless of the name, I do remember him. I believe I was in fourth or fifth grade and he was a grade above me. I say a grade and not a year because I’m sure he was several years older than me. But, because of his severe mental and physical handicap, he was not in the grade assigned to his age.

I only saw William a few times a month. So why do I remember him so vividly? It wasn’t because of his slow, garbled speech, his loud (often out of place) laughing or his awkward way of walking down the hallways. All these things I noticed, of course. But noticing and remembering are completely different.

I remember William because he liked my hair.

If I saw William it was by chance. I was part of the gifted program and he was in the special needs class. Often, the two classes would accidentally reserve the recreation room to watch a movie at the same time so we would end up watching together. We’d all take a spot on the carpet and the teachers would turn down the lights. Within the first few minutes of the movie William would always move from his assigned spot to scoot over and sit behind me. It wouldn’t be long before I felt him – very gently, almost reverently – play with my hair. I had extremely long, blonde hair. It was almost to my knees and William was drawn to it every time he saw me.

I’m sure some people reading this are thinking, “Wow…wasn’t that creepy?” Well…no. I was 9 or 10 years old so ‘creepy’ isn’t really part of your actions or reactions at that point. To me it was just William being William.

He would continue to stroke my hair the entire movie and, once the lights came back up, only then would he stop. Each time was the same: I’d turn back to look at him. He would give me his wide smile, eyes closed tight, and say something I couldn’t quite understand. I’d smile back and that was that.

Not everyone smiled back.

I knew kids laughed and called him names, but one day I realized just how far it went. On this day (because of a field trip or some other delay) my grade was on the playground at the same time as William’s grade. I was sitting on the grass – doing whatever it was I liked to do during recess – and William was with a group of kids by the bathrooms. There was an alcove in the side of the bathroom building where they were all standing in a circle around William. I could see him clearly because he was so much taller than the other kids. Soon I realized the boys were taunting him….while the girls took turns kicking him in the crotch.

Let that sink in for a minute.

I remember thinking that wasn’t right. But, I didn’t comprehend exactly what was happening. I knew it had to be painful, but I was confused because William was laughing. He would belly laugh every time they kicked him. I still don’t know if it was because he was trying to make them like him or…I don’t know… maybe he had medical issues I don’t know about and pain wasn’t part of the experience for him. I don’t really know. But I do know – now – that I witnessed something horrible.

A teacher broke it up a few minutes later, but no one was punished or sent to the bench. They just all dispersed, laughing. I have no doubt it had happened before and happened again after that. In my simple, child’s mind the best thing I could think of to show him my sympathy was to make sure I sat closer to him during the next movie, talk to him more and try to be…I don’t know…nicer. As if my extra smiles could make up for what happened to him.

One day William didn’t show up for movie time.

At some point a guidance counselor came in and spoke with us. William was dead. I say it that way not as a cold adult, but from the perspective of a child. I’m sure the counselor said it in a more acceptable way than that, but all my mind grabbed was ‘dead’.

William lived across the street from a convenience store. He often walked his younger brother across the street so they could get candy or a soda or whatever. On this day, William’s brother ran out ahead of him and into the street. A car was coming. William ran into the street, pushed his brother out of the way, and was hit by the car. I don’t remember the details after that. I only know he did not survive.

I remember telling my teacher that William was a hero. Even though his school days consisted of being abused by his peers and ignored by his teachers….he didn’t hesitate to put his brother’s life ahead of his. I really think it could have been any other child with him and he would have made the same sacrifice.  And I – very clearly – remember thinking, “William was pure love.”

He loved long hair. He loved to smile. He loved movie time. He loved to laugh. He loved school. He loved other children – even when they were cruel to him. He loved life.

And, as I sat on the classroom floor, I cried for him.

William, I remember you.
I always will.