Prologue
I think it’s weird how people talk to me even though I can’t talk back. They try to play with me, have little chit-chats, and sing little corny songs hoping that I Williams somehow join them, even though they might know for a fact that I can’t talk. After their, “interaction”, they always linger for a bit, waiting for a response for the little show they put on for me. All I can do is smile and applaud. They just get so happy at the slightest of a response from me. It’s like someone is tickling them from the inside. It’s kind of sad watching them get all happy. They look kind of foolish actually. This response from them is normal; they must think I’m cute. They must find it adorable that my anarthria keeps me from speaking. Oh my, …show more content…
Now is there anyone here that can read sign language?”
The boy that was sitting in the chair next to me was the only one in the class who raised his hand.
“Ah, yes Randy, since you’re the only one who knows the language, can you be his translator?”
“Aye, aye, captain! I’ll translate for ol’ mute button here!”
At that point, I didn’t know what to think. Who does Randy think he is calling me “Mute Button”? It was totally unnecessary of him to do that! At that moment I just shrugged it off hoping that it wouldn’t happen again.
Over the week, the new nick name didn’t go away like I thought it would. In fact, it stuck to me like a big glob of freshly chewed bubblegum sticks to a little sister’s pigtails. I wasn’t able to shake it off. The really bad part is that the name seemed to spread around the whole class. All over it was mute button this and, mute button that, and everyone knew how much the name got on my nerves so they kept using it to aggravate me.
Then the week right after that, Randy used my muteness to his advantage. He jaunted at me and took my stuff repeating the same phrase over and over saying,” Mute button, don’t say anything if I could do this!”
I sign again and again telling him to stop, but he …show more content…
It is a competition where you get to go head to against schools around the state! Now, what I’m passing out is a test to see if you’re mega math material!”
This was a dream come true to me. I loved math. It was my favorite subject and I carried all of its grades like a baby.
“Alright kids, you can do the test in three, two, one, and blast off!” He pretended to shoot a pistol with his fingers.
Everyone around me flipped to the first page and furiously began to work. Instead of rushing through it like everyone else, I took my time giving about one-and-a-half minutes to solve each problem. One plus one equals two. Two plus two equals four. Four plus four equals eight. When I’m doing math, I care for each and every problem like it’s a conscious being.
When I finally look up from the test, everyone is already done, papers turned in, staring at me. Some of them laugh when I go turn it in, I didn’t really care at that point, because I was used to tit by then. Mr. Williams winked at me when I turned it in to him making me giggle a bit.
Mr. Williams then proceeded to feed each test into a machine. When he got the results, he put on a face of somewhat disappointment. He got up and passed the papers
I think it’s weird how people talk to me even though I can’t talk back. They try to play with me, have little chit-chats, and sing little corny songs hoping that I Williams somehow join them, even though they might know for a fact that I can’t talk. After their, “interaction”, they always linger for a bit, waiting for a response for the little show they put on for me. All I can do is smile and applaud. They just get so happy at the slightest of a response from me. It’s like someone is tickling them from the inside. It’s kind of sad watching them get all happy. They look kind of foolish actually. This response from them is normal; they must think I’m cute. They must find it adorable that my anarthria keeps me from speaking. Oh my, …show more content…
Now is there anyone here that can read sign language?”
The boy that was sitting in the chair next to me was the only one in the class who raised his hand.
“Ah, yes Randy, since you’re the only one who knows the language, can you be his translator?”
“Aye, aye, captain! I’ll translate for ol’ mute button here!”
At that point, I didn’t know what to think. Who does Randy think he is calling me “Mute Button”? It was totally unnecessary of him to do that! At that moment I just shrugged it off hoping that it wouldn’t happen again.
Over the week, the new nick name didn’t go away like I thought it would. In fact, it stuck to me like a big glob of freshly chewed bubblegum sticks to a little sister’s pigtails. I wasn’t able to shake it off. The really bad part is that the name seemed to spread around the whole class. All over it was mute button this and, mute button that, and everyone knew how much the name got on my nerves so they kept using it to aggravate me.
Then the week right after that, Randy used my muteness to his advantage. He jaunted at me and took my stuff repeating the same phrase over and over saying,” Mute button, don’t say anything if I could do this!”
I sign again and again telling him to stop, but he …show more content…
It is a competition where you get to go head to against schools around the state! Now, what I’m passing out is a test to see if you’re mega math material!”
This was a dream come true to me. I loved math. It was my favorite subject and I carried all of its grades like a baby.
“Alright kids, you can do the test in three, two, one, and blast off!” He pretended to shoot a pistol with his fingers.
Everyone around me flipped to the first page and furiously began to work. Instead of rushing through it like everyone else, I took my time giving about one-and-a-half minutes to solve each problem. One plus one equals two. Two plus two equals four. Four plus four equals eight. When I’m doing math, I care for each and every problem like it’s a conscious being.
When I finally look up from the test, everyone is already done, papers turned in, staring at me. Some of them laugh when I go turn it in, I didn’t really care at that point, because I was used to tit by then. Mr. Williams winked at me when I turned it in to him making me giggle a bit.
Mr. Williams then proceeded to feed each test into a machine. When he got the results, he put on a face of somewhat disappointment. He got up and passed the papers