School Lunch
So, you know how there are just some things that happen in life that you just can't seem to stop thinking about? Those things that, even though you've put them on the back burner in your mind, they still haunt you? One of those experiences for me is a kid named Jake. Jake, who also happened to have Down's Syndrome.
I had a fantastic childhood. It was magical, wonderful, carefree and fun. I was lucky enough to go to an elementary school that was within a short walking distance of my house. It was the absolute best of times.
In second grade, I vividly remember going to eat lunch in the school cafeteria. My mom let me have school lunch only on occasion, so those days were especially great days. I loved walking into the school and being able to smell the homemade rolls already cooking. Oh, and the peanut butter bars. Seriously. I still crave them to this day. My best friend Andrea and I always sat on the same table, usually just the two of us. We were best friends, and still to this day we are best friends – almost 25 years later. On this particular day, we sat down at our usual table when the "new kid" came into the lunch room. Jake was his name. He was a big kid, much bigger than us. I later learned that he was actually 4 years older than us, but due to him having Down's Syndrome, he was in our 2nd grade class anyway. Jake had light brown hair that was never combed and really huge, thick glasses that magnified his eyes so much that it looked like they weren't real sometimes. Jake was always dirty. I remember specifically thinking that it looked like he never washed his hands. His clothes were old and usually had stains and holes in them. Jake was loud. Intimidating. Scary. Thankfully, he usually had a teacher's aide that came and helped him. However, that day, the aid wasn't there. It was just Jake.
Andrea and I kept to ourselves at our end of the lunch table, trying desperately not to make eye contact. Jake had a thing for girls. He liked being around girls, and seemed to really like the two of us. To my dismay, Jake came and sat down at the opposite end of our table. Andrea and I exchanged looks and tried to finish our amazing school lunch experience, complete with chocolate milk, in peace. That peace was short-lived.
Some of the kids at school weren't very nice to Jake. Knowing that they could manipulate him, they would approach him and try to barter his good school lunch food for their crappy home lunch food. Jake would always give in. He wanted so desperately to fit in - it was obvious. Even though I was little, I clearly remember the feeling of watching that happen - watching kids take advantage of a kid that was so easy to take advantage of. I hated those bratty boys that were pretending to be his friend to his face until they got what they wanted from him, and then turned around and laughed at him and called him names. But, at the same time I was disappointed in myself that I didn't know how to help Jake, because even though my heart went out to him, I was still scared of him - scared of his size, scared of his verbal outbursts, scared of his erratic behavior. Ultimately it was my fear of him that overpowered my wanting to help him, at least in the beginning.
I have to wonder, though, was anyone else affected in the same way that I was when seeing Jake at the end of the lunch room table, by himself, day after day, constantly falling for the manipulation of the school bullies? Does anyone even remember him? I'm sure that if I asked my best friend Andrea about it, she would remember him. But would she have the same deep-rooted feelings, regrets, and even a sense of remorse and shame? Why did Jake affect me so much? Is it normal? I mean, maybe it isn't. Maybe it isn't at all normal to think about the scary, disheveled, loud kid with Down's Syndrome from elementary school, and still feel my heart hurt over how he was regarded and treated.
The experience has affected me so much that now, as a parent of a second grade child, I am frequently talking to her about how important it is to be kind to people. Those experiences I had in the lunch room in my elementary school have literally initiated conversations where I have specifically encouraged her to seek out the kids that always sit by themselves at lunch; to try and sit by someone different each day; to look around and help kids that seem like they're sad. The thing that has amazed me is that it has worked. My daughter has a natural, innate compassion towards other kids. I'm not at all saying it's all because of me and my lunchroom experiences with Jake, but what I am saying is that it's so critical to teach kids how to be kind and considerate. The only thing worse than being a parent of a child that is constantly bullied at school is being the parent of the one that is doing the bullying.
Fast-forward a few years to sixth grade. By now, Jake was nearly twice the size of me and still as frightening as ever. But, I had gotten used to him. I had come to expect his outbursts and rampages. In a strange way, we had become friends. I still never got up the courage to sit by him at lunch time; that was just too much. Andrea and I continued to sit at our end and Jake sat at the other end. Always alone. Still being accosted by the idiot boys that sought him out only for the purpose of making fun of him. I wondered then, and I still wonder now, did he know? Did he know what those boys were doing? Did he feel bad? Did Jake ever go home to his mom and cry because of the way kids treated him? I can hardly stand to think about it.
Back to sixth grade. It was our sixth grade Valentine's dance. Jake was once again in my class and, as I mentioned, we had become friends. For some reason, the teachers had taken it upon themselves to teach us how to dance properly - in preparation for our "first" boy/girl dance. It was an awkwardly painful situation. The boys were pretending they didn't want to be paired up with a girl and then taught by a random teacher how to dance, and the girls truly didn't want anything to do with it. As I was waiting to be assigned a partner, my eye instantly sought out Jake. He was, as usual, in his own world - seemingly not paying attention. The teacher's aide that helped Jake had obviously picked up on the fact that I had reached out to him a little here and there. She came and asked me if I would be Jake's dance partner. What? She couldn't be serious. I had never danced with a boy before, and the first time I do, it has to be with HIM? I did it. I did it even though I was horrified. Although we had become friends, it honestly was the last thing on earth I wanted to do - to dance with Jake. I was wondering what people were thinking the whole time. The group of "popular" girls seemed to be laughing at me - and him. They were all paired up with the "popular" boys - naturally. Who knows what the boys were thinking. I have long ago stopped trying to understand the mind of anything male.
Somehow, I made it through the agonizing dance instruction, with Jake as my partner. Ironically, he was very well-behaved and attentive the whole time. I was relieved when it was over, but honestly, it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Afterwards, I had several kids come up to me and express their horror that I "had" to dance with him. Then, an interesting thing happened. I found myself almost defensive of Jake. I felt it my responsibility to express to those kids how well Jake did, that he actually listened, that he wasn't screaming obscenities and trying to hit the wall with his fist. No. Quite the contrary, actually. He did great. He seemed to enjoy it.
The day of the dance finally came. It was a big deal. Parents came to chaperone, of course, because you just never know that kinds of things that could go on at a sixth grade dance in the 80s. The gym was decorated with pink and red hearts cut out of construction paper. There were balloons everywhere. We all dressed up. It was a big deal. We each had a heart-shaped dance card that had 10 lines on it. The idea was that we were supposed to sign the dance card of the person we wanted to dance with. Why that was considered a good idea is beyond me. Of course all the popular girls were being approached by the popular boys, and then there were the rest of us, the average ones, that just stood around feeling completely and totally awkward and border-line humiliated.
That's when I noticed Jake. For the first time ever, Jake was dressed nicely. His hair was combed, his hands weren't as dirty. He seemed calm, but he was alone. Completely alone. He didn't have the companionship of his aid. He certainly wasn't being approached by the popular girls. He seemed to be floundering - not knowing what to do. I watched as this went on for the first few songs and realized that I couldn't stand by any longer. I had been doing that for too long - too many years. In a rare moment of courage, I walked up to Jake and asked him if I could sign his dance card. He looked at me through his ridiculously huge, thick ultra-magnifying glasses. The look on his face I will never forget. It was a look of surprise - but of a pleasant surprise. Like the kind of surprise you feel when you reach into your coat pocket from last winter and find a $20 bill. Or when it snows two feet and you look outside and realize the neighbor has already shoveled the driveway for you. Pure, unsuspected surprise.
Jake behaved like a perfect gentlemen. He was quiet, sweet and kept his hands in all the right places (which by the way, he struggled with during our initial practice session). At the end of the song, I thanked him and walked away. The very last dance of the day, he came to me and asked if he could sign my dance card - meaning, the last dance of my sixth grade dance experience would be spent with Jake - and not the cute kid I had my eye on all year. However, the most surprising part of all this is that I didn't care. I genuinely was happy to dance with Jake.
Unfortunately, that's where the story ends. For whatever reason, I don't have any more recollections of Jake after that memorable sixth grade dance. I have no idea what happened to him. He didn't end up going to the Junior High that I went to. After elementary, he seemed to have disappeared. I think the reason that Jake still enters my mind so many years later is that I learned a valuable lesson from him - a lesson that I hope to have started to teach to my daughter. Jake never changed. Even though by sixth grade, we had become friends and I had gotten used to him, he was still the same Jake that occasionally scared me, terrified me, and horrified me. In the end, I was the one that changed. I feel like I was able to see past the image of the gross, loud, scary kid at the end of the lunchroom table that was constantly making messes and being bullied by the other kids. From that point in my life on, I have always had a true compassion for people that are different, ridiculed, struggling, lonely or sad. It propelled me, later on in my life, to volunteer at a community hospital and to work very closely with people just like Jake. I think those experiences have contributed to who I have become and who I still want to become. Even though I will probably never know what happened to Jake, or if he even would remember me from our time together in elementary school, I will never forget him - and more importantly, never forget the many lessons he taught me.
(written: 26 March 2009)
At packet pick-up, they stamp your left calf with permanent ink. Quite the badge of honor, if I do say so myself. 
She WON!!! All the judges put her in first place!
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