My Boy George: THE REPEATER

Previously:  My Boy George:  LUNCHTIME

Foster: “Good morning.  Would you mind stepping down from there with your license and registration?”

Truck Driver: “Sure, I was just…”

Mac: “Good morning.  Would you mind stepping down from there with your license and registration?”

One aspect of George’s autism is that he often would repeat things, some of which may not be appropriate.  It was not out of the ordinary for students to chide George and ask him to say certain things that any student would ordinarily get in trouble for.  I spent a fair share of time rebuking students with the fury of a thousand suns on those occasions, promising them (in the most teacher friendly of ways) that if I ever catch them doing such a thing, they will meet the deity of their choosing.  However, there were times where George’s ability to “play repeater” would bring you pure joy…

Every day, George was fortunate enough to be picked up about 15 minutes before other students.  He would inform me upon entering my classroom, “I’m leaving early today, Mr. W!”  in his usual nasally voice.  Every day he would do this.  Every day I would ask if we could switch places so I could leave and go home.  He laughs and says “no.”  I smile.  Every day would start and end with George-filled ecstasy.

When George’s mother arrived, the secretary would page his name over the P.A. system, for all to hear.  It was pretty damn annoying 99% of the time whenever random announcements or early student dismissals were made, especially during class.  However, that remaining 1% was reserved for George.  So, at 3:15, the day concluded for George.  The classroom was silent.  Then, suddenly, the “ping” sound from the P.A. system would be audible, informing those who aren't deaf that something is about to be uttered.  It was 3:15, so everyone knew the reason:

“George H., please report to the front office, you’re leaving for the day!”

The calm before the storm.  The class was silently working. Then, like the skies of our dearest nation on the day of it’s independence, George’s day came to a fitting conclusion:

George:  “Bye Mr. W!”

Mr. W: “See you tomorrow, George!”

George: “See you tomorrow!”

George then scans the classroom.  Why should I be the only one involved with the fun? George brimmed with joy at all times;  why the hell wouldn’t he share it with the world?  He then filled the classroom with a bevy of parting phrases directed to a select few...usually whoever he saw in his path as he exited.

George: “Bye Kevin!  Bye Amanda! Bye James!”

“Bye George,” they all politely retorted.

George:  “Bye Caleb (yes, that Caleb)!”

Caleb:  “Peace out, my brotha’!”

George: “(to Caleb) Peace out, my brotha!”

I smile.

George then scaned the room, and saw his teacher once again.

“Peace out, Mr. W!”

Mr. W:  “(laughing) Peace out, George!”

As George stoped at the door, he paused once again, turned around, and then as a last parting gift, informed me: “We’re having mac & cheese tomorrow!”  

My god, did that kid enjoy lunch.  I then covered my face to prevent myself from laughing hysterically.  I failed miserably, but I really didn't give a shit.