The Boys Snickered

A class of second graders strolled by me as I sat in the hard plastic chair waiting for Georgi to finish her assessment. The kids must have come from the school library as they each carried tattered books in their hands. My focus was taken from the class to the girl who walked alone about 20 feet behind the rest of the class.

I recognized her almond shaped eyes and suddenly the distance between her and her classmates punched me in the gut.

She was wearing trendy jeans, a cute top and pink striped scarf. She clutched her books close to her body so not to drop them. She had straight, dark hair that hung half way down her back and bangs that covered most of her forehead.  I glanced at her eyes again, they were blue and I wondered if they glistened with brushfield spots like Lucy’s do.

I flashed her smile and got a wave in return. I wanted to get up and walk with her to class and tell her how beautiful I thought she was and that she reminded me of my Lucy. Instead I got up and walked the other direction in hopes of shaking the hurt that boiled inside me.

I returned some 10 minutes later to see her once again walking towards me. A group of 5-6 elementary aged boys stood between the girl and me. As she approached the group of boys their attention shifted from their boy like horseplay to the girl. One of the boys piped up and said “Hey, XXXX say “Monday.”

She grinned and “Monday” innocently rolled off her lips. She carried on towards her destination, naïve to the cruel reality that just took my breath away.

The boys snickered.

My heart ached.

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Teaching your kids to show love and respect to children with special needs

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One Response to The Boys Snickered

  1. Margo McDaniel says:

    I Have been thinking again lately about the extremely few people who can be found who will make an effort to be a friend. Typical people, as ‘we’ call them, and special people. Intermingling, having some wisdom beyond themselves to see the value in being a friend to have a friend. My heart aches constantly on this.

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