Old Report Card Reminded Me Of School

I visited my mom for Christmas. She isn’t exactly young. She gave me a box of old pictures and other stuff like that that she wanted me to have so they didn’t wind up getting lost.

I let it sit in the attic for a while for the cigarette smell to fade some. Last night she asked me about it, so I went and grabbed it and started looking through it. So far I have found a couple of interesting finds. There are some old baby pictures of me.

There is also a newspaper clipping, I think, with a picture of my second or third great-grandfather or something like that mentioning an Indian visiting. The caption says that he was a member of the Oneida Tribe, I think. My mom has always asked how much Native American I have since I got my DNA test, and she talked about it a lot growing up. She was proud and interested in that.

The thing that really brought back some memories for me is finding an old report card. I know it was from before we moved by the name of the school.

I had one friend I would eat lunch with. In kindergarten I actually cried all day to go to school with my cousin. I think I thought I would be in the same school with him. The school, I guess, made it happen because I think they thought it might help me being visually impaired. I don’t know. My brothers and cousins went to Head Start, but I didn’t. Every so often I wonder if that would have helped me interact with the other kids. All my cousins just knew me, so we got along fine without the visual part.

I knew I was different than the other kids. The understanding how I was different is the part I didn’t have back then. At home it was perfectly normal for me to sit right in front of the TV to watch it but there was so much I did not even realize was going on in school.

In kindergarten I remember not understanding the concept of flash cards. Now I understand that the teacher was showing them, but I didn’t see or know back then that the teacher was showing them. I thought the other kids just knew and there was something wrong with me.

That cousin told me that other kids and even teachers thought I was slow but he got defensive and said I just couldn’t see. He said that the opposite is true because growing up with me, I just got things. I know this is true about myself too.

I guess it was about first grade. I know the classroom was on the east side of the school because the sun would shine in during the morning. A memory about that time that really sticks with me is that I remember sitting at my desk and hearing the teacher writing on the blackboard. Of course I could not see it, and I really had no clue what she was even talking about, so I just got lost in my thoughts.

I started to get more of an understanding of how I was different when I got a vision teacher, or at least saw her regularly. The mobility teacher also started with me, and I learned to do things like listen for cars and stuff.

Moving to a new township with a new school district was a huge help for me. I think because it was a fresh start and I had a couple of amazing elementary school teachers that I think cared. I think that school dealt with me better.

I do know that my parents were given the option of sending me to a school for the blind. They thought it was better for me to go to a normal school.

That is one thing I am grateful for. I do think the school for the blind would have helped me in some ways. Certainly I would have better access to things like books and stuff. Generally, stuff would have been available in accessible format. Teachers would also have known better how to deal with my low vision. Real life doesn’t work that way, though.