Beautiful Retard

By Matthew Hansen

Beautiful Retard" is a novel dealing with the trials and tribulations of a 16-year-old mentally disabled boy and his Special Education teacher. In the story, we follow Jasons teacher Joan Perkins and her difficulties, both with Jasons inexplicable behavioural and aggression problems, as well as the friction by the administration of the high school where she heads the new Disabled Integration program.

Jasons life is riddled with sadness. Verbally abused by people everywhere; young and old, leads Jason to a feeling of isolation and depression. Rejected at an early age by most everyone around him, he is left under the care of an uncaring father, who is constantly grumbling about the hassles of his disabled son. This denunciation by his own father leads to an inner hostility in Jason, which begins to surface in various forms. Joan is constantly under attack from the administration because of Jasons sometimes improper behaviour, and ultimately the value of both her program, and having Jason at school, is compromised.

It is up to Joan, and Jason, to convince everyone; Jasons father, his peers, and the administration itself, that the Disabled Integration program is important. But in order to accomplish this, Joan must use Jasons supreme virtuousness as an awakening against all of the bigots and pundits toward the progress of disabled people everywhere.

Beautiful Retard pertains to the difficulties Mentally Challenged children face trying to fit in, both in the public education system and in society. The story typifies a struggle with both the teacher trying to lessen the ignorance of both the administration and the public, and at the same time prove the value of the Special Education program.

The book is educational in many aspects, so the reader is not only drawn into the story, but at the same time is taught valuable life lessons from the teachers ambitiousness and Jasons unbridled childlike wisdom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 30, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469116907

Matthew Hansen

Inspired by his mother’s work with disabled children, Beautiful Retard is Matthew Hansen’s first novel. As well as working toward a degree in Political Science at York University, Hansen is a competitive cyclist, having traveled and raced in various places all over the world. He currently lives in King City, Canada.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Joan was frightened.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, making her feel irrational and flushed. Acting robotic-like, as in a dream, she simply couldn’t believe it:

Someone had a gun down the hall and was firing it—

Joan headed toward the door.

I-I… she stammered.

Joan, are you okay? asked Mina.

I—have to go… she replied.

Joan headed for the door.

Joan, no wait! Torben cried out. He headed for the door to try and stop her.

She began to close the door behind her and turned around, Torben—stay there! I have to go!

Stay with the children… she reiterated in a firm but hoarse whisper.

But Miss—they said to stay here!

Do as I say Torben! she ordered, beginning to scurry through the hall. Looking back, Joan saw Torben ushering back some of the children who had rushed to see her dash through the hall. She waited to see the door close behind her, and then turned her sights ahead.

Racing through the corridor, she suddenly forgot her fright and anxiety. Joan kept close to the walls; she knew the police were clustered around the cafeteria. There were a half dozen of them surrounding the main entrance, waiting quietly. But the small entrance that led to the kitchen on the far side had an adjoining door inside the cafeteria, and it was unguarded.

What would she do if she managed to go in undetected by the police?

How could she stop him? What if he panicked and tried to shoot her?

· · ·

Children, just stay where you are! Torben commanded, as the kids tried crowding him.

Let’s go help Miss Perkins! Dorian yelled.

No, you must stay there! You must stay there! Carrie pleaded, who was trying to restrain the students. However it was a difficult task, with ten students and only three assistants.

Everyone, we must stay here! We can’t do anything there—we must stay here! Torben declared, after having managed to shut the door fully, and quickly lock it.

No one was getting out of the room now.

Children sit down right now! He shouted.

The students complied, but most were now crying.

Carrie and Mina were trying to hold them, at the same time looking directly at their faces and telling them that everyone and everything would be all right.

Even Emmanuel was crying, as he settled back down in his wheelchair.

Torben sat Abal down, trying to hold him and massage his tense neck.

Oh god—what has Joan done? asked Mina, why would she try to go in there—that maniac’s got a gun—and he’s firing…

I—I don’t know, Carrie murmured, We just have to be calm. Protect the children.

Right, said Torben, That was close though. I’m glad we managed to keep all the kids from running amuck.

Carrie turned her head and looked back at Torben. Oh no—Torben— she pointed to the back of the classroom.

The back door, which led into the adjoining hall, and was normally covered by a stack of unused chairs, had been opened. The chairs had been moved to the side. They must have been moved in the commotion.

How’d that happen? asked Torben, stupefied. I didn’t do that—Carrie, Mina?

They both shook their heads.

Torben! Torben! shouted Emmanuel, bouncing up and down on his wheelchair.

What is it Emmanuel? What is it?

Emmanuel pointed to the back door.

Jason’s gone!

Torben looked around the room, and counted the students. Nine.

Oh no…

CHAPTER 1

The Past

"Retarded?" David Withers exclaimed, "How can our son be retarded?"

We simply can’t have a child like that! he shook his head as he heard the news from Doctor Randell, It just can’t be! It can’t be!

David and Dolores Withers were visiting the doctor for their sixth regular check-up for their baby boy, Jason.

They had been visiting the doctor monthly, as part of the routine suggested by the hospital. The last few months, however, there had been concern for their child as he had not been progressing as much as was expected. Basic motor skills and knowledge retention had been much slower than expected, and on a hunch the doctor had run several tests.

How can this be? T-t-there must be some kind of mistake— Dolores Withers stammered, stupefied.

We can’t have a baby like that…We’ve no history of that kind of thing, that kind of person. There is no-one in our family that—that… her voice trailed off.

We are very healthy, doctor, the father continued, "We don’t drink or smoke,and we never have—how could he be like that!?" The new parents spoke with such disenchantment; it was so disappointing after all they had been through. It was a piece of information so overwhelming that it really couldn’t be fully absorbed immediately, no matter how hard the doctor tried to make it so. They didn’t want to hear this news, even if they could comprehend the life-changing nature of the announcement, which they couldn’t.

The Witherses continued to consult with Doctor Randell. The doctor told them that it was now strikingly apparent that their son was mildly disabled. Most likely it was due to a genetic imbalance, he explained, and could not have been prevented or caused directly by them or any of their behaviour before the birth. After the news seemingly started to sink in with David Withers, his wife, still in shock, suggested that maybe there had been a mistake. Perhaps one of the nurses had taken the wrong child in the birthing room, she suggested. She spoke as if the child were a blouse or lawn-chair, one that could be exchanged with a receipt in hand, for another model or colour.

Now it was reality, they were the parents of a mentally challenged child. It was something they would have to deal with, Doctor Randell told them, explaining that it was perfectly natural to have such a child. Jason should be able to lead an almost completely normal life; there have been many advances in the field, and there are even schools specializing in mentally challenged children. The doctor tried to console them, telling them they should be happy that their son was alive and healthy.

Healthy? David Withers cried, You call this healthy? The father became visibly upset. His tensed up visage betrayed a mixture between rage, exhaustion and disillusionment. He could not believe that they could have created something so..abnormal. How could they deal with this? What will everyone say? Would they keep him? What would he tell their parents? Will his parents be upset with him? Everyone knew they had a son now…. What would he tell the others at the office?

As David Withers’ thoughts raced through his head, the mother’s mood was far worse. She sat and stared at the ground as the doctor spoke further of her son’s condition and how they must deal with the child. There were certain things that they must be now more aware of, in order that their child could lead a relatively normal and happy life.

Jason was not severely disabled, and even though there was no longer any formal ranking of the retardation of the brain, the doctor could say that he was definitely only ‘mildly disabled.’ That is to say, as far as disabled children went, Jason would have the best chance of assimilation into schools and the real world, Dr. Randell assured them.

There were courses and specialists they could speak with to help guarantee that all goes well for Jason’s future, as well as their own. There would be snags and wrinkles along the way but as long as there was love, their son would be happy, Doctor Randell told them. As the parents listened, all they could do was stare at the ground and nod their heads.

CHAPTER 2

6 months earlier

The excitement of the birth was electrifying. His eyes glowing, David Withers held his wife’s hand as she lay in the gurney. Feeling his hand throb from her squeezing, he was amazed at the strength that was suddenly possessed by a woman who could never even open a pickle jar on her own. Every step of the way seemed incredibly special, as it was their first child; every step into the unknown was exciting. Observing her bursting anticipation, Doctor Andrews tried to soothe her with a soft, calming voice.

Come now Mrs. Withers, keep pushing! he said, sounding more like a man helping his son coax a fish in from the water on his first fishing trip.

Nurses gathered around her, helping in every way they could. Anticipation and exhilaration filled the room. The moment came as Dolores groaned and the baby’s head became visible. Having been in labour for almost ten hours, she did not want to have to resort to a C-section, not after all this work. Not that she was afraid of the pain; she knew from the start there was some excruciating work ahead of her. But all the classes and book reading in the world couldn’t simulate this important moment. Good thing too, because if she had known it was going to be as agonizing as this she may have given some second thought to that long sultry evening exactly nine months, one week and three days ago.

The father watched as she contracted, half mesmerized by what was happening, but apprehensive about all the travails his wife was going through. He felt so helpless sitting there, urging her on, not knowing if he was saying too much or too little. The nurses stood by, ready, as the mother squeezed and moaned.

Aaargh! she grunted, Get!

It!

Out!

Of!

Me!

Machines beep-beeped in the background, adding to the hurried frenzy of the labour room. The mother gave one last push, clenching her eyes shut, making a particularly unattractive scrunched up face.

Push! Doctor Andrews said, One last push and we’re done!

With that, came the baby, the beautiful baby boy that Mr. and Mrs. Withers dreamt of for who-knows-how-long. The moment that was so special not just to the mother and father, but to all who worked in the hospital, the moment when new life began. This was the birth of another human being, and the thrill of a new life was a nice change for a hospital full of aches and pains, sadness and sickness.

A boy! the doctor announced, (although it wasn’t a surprise to others in the room who had a better vantage point) as the tired mother and eager father smiled.

We have a boy, honey! A beautiful healthy boy! David Withers cried out.

CHAPTER 3

6 months later, 5 minutes after the Doctor told them of their son’s condition.

All David Withers could do was stare. He gazed detachedly at the ground, at the walls, and at the potted plant beside him in the corridor. He could not believe what the doctor had told him. David Withers skulked as he prepared to break the news to his parents who waited for him. They had come along to the doctor’s office, and afterward they were to have a barbeque at their house. As he walked toward them in the waiting room and saw them with their backs to him, he tried to string together what he was going to tell the brand new grandparents.

Now he had to tell them that he was the father of a retarded, no—it was "Mentally Challenged" child as the doctor said. He would have to tell them that he had failed as a father, as he had with so many other things. He would just have to tell them he had failed again. David Withers had thought that maybe this was one thing he couldn’t screw up, that finally he would be happy to tell his parents that he had been successful. Instead, his child would be just as much flawed as his doomed carpet business, his previous marriage, his dropping out of university.

It reminded him, oddly enough, of the time he had been caught stealing the hockey stick from their neighbour, Mr. Wile’s, garage. Mr. Wile had told him he had to go back home and tell his parents what he had done, and that they would be in charge of punishment, not him. David Withers had been only eleven years old at the time but for some reason, he didn’t feel much older as he walked toward his parents. Now he had to confess to them one more time; to tell them that he had let them down once more.

He walked over to them, forcing a smile to match their beaming grins, knowing full well that in a few minutes, their smiles would rapidly vanish, their smiles would turn into frowns and all the excitement would evaporate as he told them the results of the tests.

· · ·

Mentally challenged? exclaimed Mrs. Withers senior, How could this be? Why could this have happened?

Nearly the same questions that flowed out of David’s mouth moments earlier now poured out of his parents’. The grandparents looked around, up and down and toward their son, and for a moment, were speechless. They too couldn’t believe the news he had just told them. They too had been eagerly awaiting the announcement of their grandchild,