A Little Understanding

A Little Understanding
By Halli Gomez

I wasn’t paying attention when we drove away from the school parking lot and didn’t realize we weren’t going home until we were at the mall.  Maybe Mom is buying me ice cream to make up for my bad day.  I know my teacher called her; she usually does when I disrupt the class.  “Mrs. Baker, Michael has been putting his hands on his classmates again.” Stupid lady, she doesn’t understand even though it’s been explained a bunch of times.  I can’t help it.  I can’t help making the grunting noises and touching people.  I can’t help blinking my eyes. Does she think I want to be laughed at and teased? 

I try to control it; I really do.  I always sit by myself.  I try not to bother people and that’s kind of hard for someone like me. Someone stuck with a disease that makes you act weird.  If the teacher doesn’t understand, how are the ten year olds in my fifth grade class going to get that you have a neurological disorder with vocal and motor tics that you can’t control, and the only hope you have is to try and stay calm.  No wonder they don’t want to play with me.

I guess this is the life of a person with Tourette Syndrome.  I have to accept the fact that I will have no friends and the only people who will understand are my parents.

I was still thinking about this when my mom pulled in to a parking space.  I looked out the window and realized this wasn’t the mall with the ice cream shop.  I followed her through the parking lot and she stopped at a karate studio. I looked at my mom and she must have read my mind because she told me we were going to meet with the teacher.  Did she want me to learn to beat the kids up that teased me?  That was a great idea.  I’ll show them what happens when they laugh at me!

We went inside and stood in a big open room with a bunch of kids standing in lines. They were listening to a man in a white uniform and watching a boy about my age punch a big blue bag.  Suddenly I didn’t think this was a good idea. There must be twenty or thirty kids! Did my mom really think I could hang out with them?  Doesn’t she know they hate me? 

I started to get nervous.  How could I stand there with them and not touch something?  They would hit me before I even got a chance to put my hands up and then I’d be in trouble with this teacher too!  The more I stood there thinking about this, the more nervous I got, and the worse the tics got.  I could feel the grunting noises in my throat and I couldn’t stop touching my mom’s leg.  My eyes blinked so fast and tight that I was giving myself a headache. 

I was concentrating so hard to be calm that I didn’t notice anything until the room exploded with noise and movement.  The kids that were standing in lines a minute ago were now bouncing up and down taking turns yelling and punching the bag.

“I want more noise and more moving.”  I heard the teacher say. I liked the sound of that; it was something I did all the time. I closed my eyes and pictured myself standing next to the teacher like that other kid.  If only I could get them to understand.

After a few minutes, the noise stopped and my daydream ended.  The class was over and we followed the teacher into the office.  My mom began telling him that I don’t have many friends and that the kids at school haven’t been nice.

I looked at the teacher while they were talking.  At first I stared at his black belt with gold writing and then I saw his hand opening and closing.  I looked at him more closely and noticed that he kept moving his head from side to side. I could hear my mom talking, but all I could do was stare.

All of a sudden the teacher tapped me on the leg and with a big, understanding smile, asked me how long I’ve had Tourette Syndrome.  He said he’s had it since he was eight and I knew at that minute my daydream would become reality.