I’ve always hesitated to tell this tale, I should tell my readership … it may seem that I’m unsympathetic towards the mentally challenged, which I am not. When I tell you the story of the drive from hell, please keep in mind that I have great empathy towards Tina and her family, and wish them well. Even so, I was subjected to four hours of extreme suffering. I must tell my tale now, and after several years of therapeutic journal-writing I am finally able to do so. A small measure of thanks goes also to Used Hack for instilling in me, by his example, the courage to write about this.
Here’s how it all went down.
Here’s how it all went down.
When I taught environmental science, I ran a club for kids who were interested in forestry and animal science careers. Once a year we would travel to a state-level competition for the enviro-geeks to show their stuff. It was great fun, and we even brought home the trophy once or twice; my kids were the scat experts for the entire state of Connecticut. And that is something to brag about!
In my club, I had a girl who had the great misfortune of being born with Trisomy 21. While not really a strong candidate in the competition, Tina did enjoy the club for the animals and trees that we learned about.
One year, Tina really wanted to go on one of the Enviro field trips. Being the inclusion-oriented person that I purport to be, I invited her, but insisted her mother accompany her because we were going to be involved in heavy competition prep and I could not be a behavior chaperone. Tina was also getting rather hard to manage at this point, because she was a senior and outweighed me by about 50 pounds, and was virtually unstoppable when she went on one of her a stubborn tirades (a weekly event). She was very hard to reason with, but her parents had a way with her that was to be envied.
We took two vans, and I traveled shotgun with Tina’s mom. Tina and two other students sat in the back.
[We were not even out of the school driveway when I smelled pickle. Tina was eating her bag lunch. By the middle of the two-hour drive she had eaten her mother’s lunch as well. I kept a death-grip on my lunch as Tina’s mom and I chit-chatted in the front. This part of the story isn't important, but may explain why, when I hear someone say "very much", I instantly smell pickle. "Very much" and pickle-smell and inextricably bound together in my memory, forever.]
About 15 minutes into the drive, Tina said, “I love you, mom.”
Tina’s mom: “I love you too, Tina.”
Tina: “Very much.”
Oh, that is so sweet! thought I. As Tina said “very much,” she would close her eyes and furrow her brow emphatically, emphasizing the “ch” of the “much”. It was touching.
A minute passed, and then Tina said, “Mom? I love you.”
Wow, that is, again, so very cute and so very sweet.
“I love you too, Tina.”
“Very much.”
Same emphatic “much”, with a little heavier accent on the “very.” Wow, it’s nice that they express their love so freely in Tina’s household.
“Mom, I love you.”
“I love you too, Tina.”
“Very much.”
.
.
.
“I love you, mom!”
“I love you too”
“Much.”
.
.
.
“Mom, I love you.”
I love you too, Tina!”
.
.
.
(long pause)
.
.
.
(perhaps she will stop now)
.
.
.
“Very muccccccccccchhhhhhhhh”
.
.
.
“I love you mom!”
“I love you too, Tina.”
Very very much.”
In my club, I had a girl who had the great misfortune of being born with Trisomy 21. While not really a strong candidate in the competition, Tina did enjoy the club for the animals and trees that we learned about.
One year, Tina really wanted to go on one of the Enviro field trips. Being the inclusion-oriented person that I purport to be, I invited her, but insisted her mother accompany her because we were going to be involved in heavy competition prep and I could not be a behavior chaperone. Tina was also getting rather hard to manage at this point, because she was a senior and outweighed me by about 50 pounds, and was virtually unstoppable when she went on one of her a stubborn tirades (a weekly event). She was very hard to reason with, but her parents had a way with her that was to be envied.
We took two vans, and I traveled shotgun with Tina’s mom. Tina and two other students sat in the back.
[We were not even out of the school driveway when I smelled pickle. Tina was eating her bag lunch. By the middle of the two-hour drive she had eaten her mother’s lunch as well. I kept a death-grip on my lunch as Tina’s mom and I chit-chatted in the front. This part of the story isn't important, but may explain why, when I hear someone say "very much", I instantly smell pickle. "Very much" and pickle-smell and inextricably bound together in my memory, forever.]
About 15 minutes into the drive, Tina said, “I love you, mom.”
Tina’s mom: “I love you too, Tina.”
Tina: “Very much.”
Oh, that is so sweet! thought I. As Tina said “very much,” she would close her eyes and furrow her brow emphatically, emphasizing the “ch” of the “much”. It was touching.
A minute passed, and then Tina said, “Mom? I love you.”
Wow, that is, again, so very cute and so very sweet.
“I love you too, Tina.”
“Very much.”
Same emphatic “much”, with a little heavier accent on the “very.” Wow, it’s nice that they express their love so freely in Tina’s household.
“Mom, I love you.”
“I love you too, Tina.”
“Very much.”
.
.
.
“I love you, mom!”
“I love you too”
“Much.”
.
.
.
“Mom, I love you.”
I love you too, Tina!”
.
.
.
(long pause)
.
.
.
(perhaps she will stop now)
.
.
.
“Very muccccccccccchhhhhhhhh”
.
.
.
“I love you mom!”
“I love you too, Tina.”
Very very much.”
!
!
!
!
!
Oh. My. God. This went on, and on, and on, and on.
For two. Hours.
Every half-minute or so, the re-affirmation of familial love. Every half minute, the reassurance that the love is not only present, but very muchly present. After the 20th iteration of this endless cycle, I had to suppress the impulse to jump screaming from the van.
Once in a while Tina’s mom would chuckle and look over at me, rolling her eyes at how sweet and cute it all was. I was trapped in a mental hell of my own making, in which I loathed myself for wanting to slam my left foot on the brakes and sent both Tina and her mom through the windshield. I clenched my teeth and smiled, squeezing in some inane small talk between love declarations.
When we arrived at our destination, I went into the ladies’ room and stared at myself in the mirror. What type of person am I, to be so annoyed by a person who is mentally retarded? There, I thought, but for the grace of God, go I. Still … equal treatment for all, right? And that torment should not be inflicted by, or endured by, any person!!!
I envisioned a van switch for the ride home, but since I was the one who insisted Tina’s mom come along, I felt responsible, and so I settled into the passenger seat at the end of the day. I had all but forgotten the misery of the morning ride, and surely Tina wouldn’t remember after all the animals we saw today. I sat in blessed silence for the first twenty minutes of the drive, reflecting upon the day and upon what a wonderful, tolerant person I was learning to be.
Then it happened.
“Mom? I love you!”
!
!
!
!
Oh. My. God. This went on, and on, and on, and on.
For two. Hours.
Every half-minute or so, the re-affirmation of familial love. Every half minute, the reassurance that the love is not only present, but very muchly present. After the 20th iteration of this endless cycle, I had to suppress the impulse to jump screaming from the van.
Once in a while Tina’s mom would chuckle and look over at me, rolling her eyes at how sweet and cute it all was. I was trapped in a mental hell of my own making, in which I loathed myself for wanting to slam my left foot on the brakes and sent both Tina and her mom through the windshield. I clenched my teeth and smiled, squeezing in some inane small talk between love declarations.
When we arrived at our destination, I went into the ladies’ room and stared at myself in the mirror. What type of person am I, to be so annoyed by a person who is mentally retarded? There, I thought, but for the grace of God, go I. Still … equal treatment for all, right? And that torment should not be inflicted by, or endured by, any person!!!
I envisioned a van switch for the ride home, but since I was the one who insisted Tina’s mom come along, I felt responsible, and so I settled into the passenger seat at the end of the day. I had all but forgotten the misery of the morning ride, and surely Tina wouldn’t remember after all the animals we saw today. I sat in blessed silence for the first twenty minutes of the drive, reflecting upon the day and upon what a wonderful, tolerant person I was learning to be.
Then it happened.
“Mom? I love you!”
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