seventh grader had: a two-way phone hookup between our house and my classroom. (A lot of people thought I had a computer system and screen so I could see the class—but I didn’t.)
“Western still doesn’t get it,” I complained. “I don’t want to be treated worse than other kids, but I don’t want to be treated better either. I just want to be the same.”
But Mom said, “If the school is willing to do this, we have to try it.”
Ryan, age thirteen, and Jeanne as Ryan follows his science class via telephone hookup.
On the first day of school, all the reporters came back to watch me try out my new speaker phone, which was set up in my bedroom, next to my computer. Some of them were surprised to see our Christmas tree was still in our living room. Mom had left it up all year, just in case I got sick again. Mrs. Samsel, my science teacher, had to test the phone hookup several times before we got it going right. Even so, sometimes I could hear her and my other teachers, sometimes I couldn’t—especially if they moved around the classroom. I never caught what my classmates were saying at all. It was very frustrating. I couldn’t see the work on the blackboard, and what was I going to do when the class had to watch a film?
When class broke for lunch, I slammed down the phone. A reporter from a local station asked me what I thought of the hookup.
“It stinks,” I said. I wanted to say, “It sucks,” but this was television.
Andrea’s first day back was no fun either. First she found out that a kid I liked a lot, who had come to see me in the hospital, had started going around making fun of me. Then a couple of other kids came up to her at the lockers, smirking. “We know how your brother really got AIDS,” they sneered at her. Andrea is strong and has a lot of muscles from skating. She doesn’t talk much, but when she says something, she means it. “Want me to deck you?” she asked them. The kids slunked off—but first they tossed a few more insults over their shoulders. They even said Heath was a fag too, because he hung out with me.
“We can all survive this,” Mom said. “Just keep your heads held high.”
In the next few days I discovered one great big advantage to being on the speaker phone. If the teacher paused during class for kids to read or write something, I could usually finish ahead of them. Everyone else was stuck in class, but I was free to do as I pleased with the extra time. I made a few trips to the refrigerator, and then realized I could turn on the TV and watch cartoons until the teacher started again.
But once I made a fatal mistake and turned the volume up too high. Suddenly, through the speaker phone at school, everyone heard “Ya-ba-da-ba-DOO!” The entire seventh grade cracked up. Andrea or a friend always picked up my homework for me. That afternoon Andrea brought home along with it a stern note from Mr. Colby. “Ryan is not to watch television during classroom hours,” he wrote Mom.
After my main distraction was forbidden, I took to crossing off on the calendar each day I had to spend hanging on the speaker phone.
One afternoon I went to see my girlfriend Kris. I thought we could do our homework together. When I rang her bell, she came out on the stoop, but she didn’t seem happy to see me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her. She looked at the step, at her house, at the sky—anywhere but at me.
“My parents don’t think we ought to hang out together anymore,” she mumbled.
I didn’t have to ask her why. There was no point talking about it. There was nothing I could change even if I wanted to, so I decided, Let’s not waste time. I hadn’t got any to waste.
“Okay,” I said. I heaved myself up off Kris’s steps and walked away.
“Ryan, I’m sorry,” she called after me. Kris’s parents were divorced, and she lived with her mother and stepfather. About a year later she wrote me that they had sent her away from Kokomo, to Detroit, to live with her
“Western still doesn’t get it,” I complained. “I don’t want to be treated worse than other kids, but I don’t want to be treated better either. I just want to be the same.”
But Mom said, “If the school is willing to do this, we have to try it.”
Ryan, age thirteen, and Jeanne as Ryan follows his science class via telephone hookup.
On the first day of school, all the reporters came back to watch me try out my new speaker phone, which was set up in my bedroom, next to my computer. Some of them were surprised to see our Christmas tree was still in our living room. Mom had left it up all year, just in case I got sick again. Mrs. Samsel, my science teacher, had to test the phone hookup several times before we got it going right. Even so, sometimes I could hear her and my other teachers, sometimes I couldn’t—especially if they moved around the classroom. I never caught what my classmates were saying at all. It was very frustrating. I couldn’t see the work on the blackboard, and what was I going to do when the class had to watch a film?
When class broke for lunch, I slammed down the phone. A reporter from a local station asked me what I thought of the hookup.
“It stinks,” I said. I wanted to say, “It sucks,” but this was television.
Andrea’s first day back was no fun either. First she found out that a kid I liked a lot, who had come to see me in the hospital, had started going around making fun of me. Then a couple of other kids came up to her at the lockers, smirking. “We know how your brother really got AIDS,” they sneered at her. Andrea is strong and has a lot of muscles from skating. She doesn’t talk much, but when she says something, she means it. “Want me to deck you?” she asked them. The kids slunked off—but first they tossed a few more insults over their shoulders. They even said Heath was a fag too, because he hung out with me.
“We can all survive this,” Mom said. “Just keep your heads held high.”
In the next few days I discovered one great big advantage to being on the speaker phone. If the teacher paused during class for kids to read or write something, I could usually finish ahead of them. Everyone else was stuck in class, but I was free to do as I pleased with the extra time. I made a few trips to the refrigerator, and then realized I could turn on the TV and watch cartoons until the teacher started again.
But once I made a fatal mistake and turned the volume up too high. Suddenly, through the speaker phone at school, everyone heard “Ya-ba-da-ba-DOO!” The entire seventh grade cracked up. Andrea or a friend always picked up my homework for me. That afternoon Andrea brought home along with it a stern note from Mr. Colby. “Ryan is not to watch television during classroom hours,” he wrote Mom.
After my main distraction was forbidden, I took to crossing off on the calendar each day I had to spend hanging on the speaker phone.
One afternoon I went to see my girlfriend Kris. I thought we could do our homework together. When I rang her bell, she came out on the stoop, but she didn’t seem happy to see me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her. She looked at the step, at her house, at the sky—anywhere but at me.
“My parents don’t think we ought to hang out together anymore,” she mumbled.
I didn’t have to ask her why. There was no point talking about it. There was nothing I could change even if I wanted to, so I decided, Let’s not waste time. I hadn’t got any to waste.
“Okay,” I said. I heaved myself up off Kris’s steps and walked away.
“Ryan, I’m sorry,” she called after me. Kris’s parents were divorced, and she lived with her mother and stepfather. About a year later she wrote me that they had sent her away from Kokomo, to Detroit, to live with her
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