I was standing outside my classroom door greeting students the first day of class. Michael stood at a distance waiting till all the students were in the room. When they were all finally inside he stated matter of fact, “I’m Michael. You know I’m special ed, don’t you?” Before I could answer, he restated. “Special ed; you know that don’t you?” He seemed puzzled. “No Michael I didn’t know that,” I replied. Now he seemed more perplexed.
“You don’t?” he quizzed. “I thought you teachers had computer programs that told you those things about people like me.” Trying hard to keep a straight face I thanked him for making me aware. “And one other thing,” he added, “I’m a redneck. Just thought you needed to know!” Dressed in camouflaged cap, jeans, jean jacket, large belt buckle and boots caked in mud, I didn’t have a clue! But the picture was clear: labels didn’t bother him.
As usual we do an activity to help students feel more comfortable in a speech class. Names are drawn and one by one they get their feel of standing behind a podium by telling their name and one thing of importance. There were two Michaels in the class so I decided to wait on calling on the Michael I had just met. I wanted him to have time to adjust to the class as well as the class adjusting to him, but I mistakenly left his name in the bag. I knew the minute I said “Michael” what had happened. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Neither of us knew what to do. I told him to stand by me and tell the class his name and something about himself. Fixing his eyes on the floor he twisted through the maze of desks till he was standing beside me. Never looking up he said, “I’m Michael and I’m a redneck.” Some snickered and others smiled. My glare canvassed the room and the snickers subsided. With Michael safely back in his desk I said, “Michael maybe in one of your speeches you’ll tell us what a redneck is.” Again, he never looked up.
A few minutes later as I was walking through the room Michael motioned me over. “Maam,” he drawled in a semi-whisper. “You know you called on me awhile ago to speak,” I nodded. “Weell,” he whispered lower, “you might not want to do that again.” His very matter of fact “all is business” tone was becoming amusing. “But you did so well!” I replied. “I did?” he quizzed.
“Michael you can do this! You can talk in front of people!” “Well alright then!” he replied. I patted him on the back and moved on.
Everyday Michael met me at the door to remind me that he is a redneck and he needs to go to tutoring so he can make sure he does his work. Michael didn’t give his speeches in front of the class; he gave them to me. But when I announced a demonstration speech he had an idea. “I want to give a speech to the class,” he announced. “I can teach them about fishing.”
When he gave his demonstration speech he laid out his materials, approached the students explaining each step as though no one had ever seen a fishing line. They hung on his every word. When he finished hands flew up and Michael was bombarded with questions about fishing. He methodically answered one at a time in his “business as usual” tone. When the last question was answered they gave him a standing ovation.
In the beginning of the semester some of the students seemed baffled by Michael; some made fun but not for long. It was hard to dislike Michael as different as he may have been.
Michael’s favorite saying was, “just gitter done!” He accomplished what he had to accomplish and in the process he daily showed us what a pure heart and doing one’s best look like Textbooks could never teach us what his heart of gold did. From a young boy who had been told by society his entire life what he couldn’t do, he reminded us that each one is fearfully and wonderfully made with purpose and value.
Some people come into our lives and quickly go…..and we are never the same; we are made better.
That person was Michael.
