School Daze

I wish to relate a story from my school days.

Andrew was a classmate, born with Down's Syndrome (no, this is not about a sappy, hugging and kissing, loving Andrew, so read on, you sanctimonious ass).

We were cruel to Andrew, as you can imagine. He was clumsy, oafish and uncoordinated. He was always the last to get picked for sports, and whichever team got saddled with him automatically claimed the advantage of sides, or points or whatever. Of course, in a close game, we knew Andrew would screw up and thus the chances of his team winning was nil. Andrew would be blamed unmercifully for his teams loss. He took it all good naturedly and poked fun at himself- and this infuriated us even more.

Whatever his shortcomings on the playing field were, they were magnified in the classroom. There was no way Andrew could keep up, try as he might. There were no special ed classes back then, and Andrew paid the price. He was the class dummy, the idiot- and we made sure to never let him forget it.

Andrew was doubly cursed. Besides his own affliction, he had a younger brother who was brilliant. The real thing, a true genius. Andrew was very proud of his brother, so much so he would boast about him even as we mocked him. No one was going to seperate Andrew from his brother.

Andrew's younger brother would always try to protect his older brother from the rest us, without much success. It was on a regular basis they both suffered the beatings we administered, just for fun.

Andrew's younger brother would help Andrew with homework. They would spend hours and hours on the simplest of things, until Andrew got it- at least he did, for about 10 minutes. That didn't matter, of course, because Andrew wanted to learn and Andrew wanted to be smart, so he could be just like the rest of us. Throughout his school years, Andrew always want to learn something, everyday. He studied mightily, as best he could. To what end, we never understood at the time. His determination to learn something, everyday, was his mission.

With time and age, our attitude toward Andrew changed. In our final years of High School, we came to love Andrew and to understand all he had gone through- and all that we had put him through. We were ashamed of what we had done to him, but Andrew never made mention of those things. It was as if it had never happened.

When Andrew received his High School Diploma (or whatever version thererof they gave him), we all stood and clapped and cheered and whistled. His mother and father wept as he walked across the platform to recieve his honors and his younger brother kept yelling out, "That's my brother!" That was a special day.

We thought that we had all come a long way, in our 'maturing' into young men. We were very wrong.

As we all moved on to college, Andrew took a vocational course in automotive painting. What was a six month course, took Andrew two years to complete. Andrew got a job, prepping cars for paint jobs. When we heard that news, we were all so very proud of him. We were told that he would take his younger brother out for pizza every week. After all, older brothers look out for their younger brothers.

Andrew passed away in his sleep three years later. He had never missed a day of work. He saved his money because someday, he used to say, he was going to help his brother buy a house and maybe, just maybe, his brother would let him live in a basement apartment.

It was a larger funeral than anyone anticipated. We all came back, from wherever we were. We, his old friends, the college boys and his new friends, calloused, working men, all. Whatever divide there was between us, was narrowed by a shared reality. Since hearing of Andrew's passing, none of us had gotten much sleep. We all truly loved Andrew and had just come to realize how deeply he had touched us.

One of the eulogies was given by our former School Principal, a man known for his gruffness and demanding ways. This man, whom we had all feared and loathed, never looked smaller. He tried to say a few words, but we could barely hear him. He finally took a sip of water from the glass under the lectern, cleared his throat and looked down at the casket in front of him.

He proceeded to ask- actually, plead- for Andrew's forgiveness. He remarked that for years, Andrew was the first one who would rise, as he, the Principal, entered a room. That was wrong, he pointed out. "I should have stood for you," he said. He then found his seat and wept openly. On that day, we all saw humility, up close and personal, for the first time in our young lives.

Over time, we learned an important lesson. Simply recognizing our faults or shortcomings, does not mean we have matured or learned enough, or put what we have learned, into the right perspective.

It is only by incoporating into our lives, not just the ideas, but tangible actions, that prove we are indeed better. Our actions are the real indicators of what we have learned.

I have been fortunate to know a few people who have influenced my life and have made me a better person. I may not always agree with them, but I do know I am well served by their thoughts and their willingness to exchange ideas.

I have come to value their opinions, ideas and thoughts. More than just value them, I try to behave in a manner consistant with the lessons learned.

Andrew taught me well- well enough I believe, to prepare me for the present and future.