I entered my first class and made them describe their Halloween costumes in Spanish, then plugged in the Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin and switched the language to Spanish. The kids laughed hearing Charlie Brown speak Spanish and sat mesmerized by the old cartoon.
I was really just killing some time until I took the kids to the author talk. As we watched, I saw Oliver rise from the floor, his face starting to crumple.
"Oliver, what is wrong?"
He shook his head and sat back down, eyes fixed on the screen.
"Fourth grade, please come to the auditorium" the intercom called.
We lined up.
Oliver's face crumpled again as we passed the bathrooms.
"I peed myself, I peed myself," he said doggedly, shaking his head back and forth.
"I gotta go to bathroom".
He entered the auditorium a few minutes later, walking behind the author, his head still shaking.
"I peed myself, I peed myself" he continued to repeat, sitting in front of me Indian style on the floor, crying slightly but more in a state of embarrassed frenzy.
"It's okay, Oliver, it's okay" I whispered, wanting to grab him and hug him but resisting, knowing that an action like that would only scare him more.
A male staff member walked with Oliver behind the author again and out of the room.
A few minutes later, Oliver returned, again walking behind the author with new pants on.
He was shaking his head, eyes wild and fixed on the ground, embarrassed and agitated.
"I peed myself, I PEED MYSELF" he said again, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, hand extended with palm up while returning to sit on the floor.
Even though he was cleaned up, he couldn't get past it. He just could not deal with it.
"Penis" he said gutturally, in a genuine frenzy. The male staff member walked Oliver back behind the author and out of the room.
He did not return.
Hundreds of kids sat happily on the floor, watching and laughing and raising their hands when the author agreed to answer questions. It was a wonderful visit, but my mind was on Oliver, wishing he could enjoy the things other kids liked. A day devoid of the normal routine, filled with cartoons and author talks and descriptions of costumes helped keep most of the kids in-line on a difficult school day. It had the opposite effect on Oliver, sending him into a confused panic.
About a half an hour into the talk, I watched several kids with impairments similar to Oliver's inch their way out of the cramped crowd of children on the floor and over to the area where the teachers sat uncluttered, each with several feet of uncrowded space around us.
"I need more space" each child announced flatly, yet with piercing frenzied eyes, re-settling themselves in a clearing on the floor and staring back at the author, without laughing.
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