In an Autumn Classroom

Construction paper was everywhere – on the floor, on the desks, on the tables, in children’s hair, on their shirts. Red, orange, brown, yellow pieces were haphazardly strewn as chubby hands tried to maneuver safety scissors in curved lines and jagged, zig-zag patterns. There were uncapped markers and uncapped tubes of glue. There was glitter, there were sprinkles, there were plastic gemstones. There were brown hand turkeys and red apples and black bats and orange pumpkins with green pipe cleaners spiraling from the stems. On the windows were little jellies of ghosts and ghouls.

But there was little noise in the classroom, and, to some, there was none at all. Children looked at each other, hands and fingers moving childishly, as their friends laughed quietly. Mouths opened and closed as quickly as their hands moved, sometimes making small sounds, sometimes making nothing. Heads were thrown back with excitement and laughter, but almost none of them could hear it. The beauty, though, was that they didn’t need to hear it to know that they friends were happy. Overhead, the classroom lights flickered on and off, and the children toddled back to their assigned seats. All squares of four desks were angled so that each child had a personalized view of the whiteboard and their teacher. Ms. Lewis smiled at them and it only grew larger with each gummy grin she was returned.

She began the class with a ‘hello,’ but it was no simple greeting. She performed this gesture with both her hands and her mouth. Sometimes, some of the students preferred to read lips in tandem with the sign language, and she was all too happy to oblige. Anything for her children. Her hands, deft from years and years of learning, training, and eventually teaching the language, easily found the patterns of words and performed them slowly but precisely. She then lifted the camera that hung around her neck for emphasis. There were some squeals, some moans, some sounds in between, and no sounds whatsoever from different children. She saw one boy slumped over his picture in the back and decided to go to him first. She knelt by his desk and tapped on the wooden surface. His face was red when he lifted it from his crossed arms.

The name laminated across the top of his desk said ‘Connor,’ and she signed him a question, asking for a picture. He shook his stubborn head no and signed something too fast for her to understand and slammed his head down again. With all the patience a kind heart and being a teacher had taught her, Ms. Lewis tapped the desk again. Connor lifted his head quickly and threw her an impetuously glare only young children had the audacity to do. Ms. Lewis only raised a thin eyebrow and signed her original question again. The boy’s cheeks rosied like he’d been playing in the autumn wind for a bit too long, and he fidgeted in his seat. His hands flew as he conveyed a sense of embarrassment, and Ms. Lewis’ heart softened even more. Connor had always been a shy boy, not as adept at sign language as some of the other children. Reading lips was hard, too, because he sat in the back of the classroom. Make no mistake, deaf children are very passionate speakers, even if they don’t all use their voices to convey it, but Connor remained withdrawn and hushed.

Ms. Lewis shared her confidence and excitement with him, hoping to cheer him up, but Connor’s shoulders only sunk and his eyes turned down towards his lap. Ms. Lewis wanted to say more but she felt a tug on her shirt. Lacy was practically bouncing up and down as she held up a picture of her hand-turkey. She’d colored the entirety of four fingers in with crayon and added two black dots and a concave upward curve on the thumb. It was a very happy turkey. She pointed at the camera with her and signed to her with one hand. Can you take a picture of me? Her dark eyes sparkled.

She was reluctant to leave Connor, but Ms. Lewis knew she couldn’t ignore the rest of the children and nodded. But before she went to the nook (which she had emptied out of all the chairs and hung up Halloween, Thanksgiving, and other autumn decorations), she approached the light switch and flickered it on and off to get the children’s attention again. After giving them a few, brief instructions about lining up and no shoving, the children ran to nook as fast as they could. There was a little bit of roughness and complaining here and there as children were jostled and friends cut the line, despite all that she had said, but it wasn’t bad enough that she needed to step in. Quickly scanning over the line, Ms. Lewis noticed that Lacy was second, and the girl’s grin had never been larger, showing off two empty spots and one crooked tooth. It wasn’t until her eyes trailed all the way to the absolute last person did she see Connor. His eyes were fixated on the tile beneath his black-and-blue Batman shoes even when the boy in front of him accidentally stepped backwards into him.

Because it was the last period of the day, after she took several pictures of the children with their creations and the creations and children individually, she let them pick two candies of their choice. With the goodies tightly clutched in hand, one after one, they rushed towards their backpacks and to their parents waiting outside the door. Slowly, the line dwindled until all other children and parents had left. Except for one.

Connor walked across the carpet towards the decoration like one walking towards a guillotine, head hung low. His fist gripped his paper so tightly, the construction paper was starting to crinkle. Ms. Lewis’ head cocked to the side as she shook her head when he looked back at her with dreading admission. His brows furrowed. She patted the carpet a few feet in front of her. He hesitantly plopped down as she, herself, folded her legs criss-cross applesauce. She took the camera from her neck and placed it beside her.

When Connor read the signs for ‘let’s talk,’ he shifted and bit his cheek. She patted the ground hard to gain his attention and smiled softly at his timid eyes. It’s okay, her body seemed to say and her hands confirmed. With a fast glance behind her at the now-empty classroom door, she faced him and asked him what was wrong.

His hands were firmly placed in his lap for a solid minute before he tentatively began to sign. While not entirely correct due to inexperience, Ms. Lewis caught the word ‘Halloween’ and ‘trick-or-treating’ but there was no joy behind them.

Do you not like Halloween? she asked.

He shook his head. Ms. Lewis’ face dropped when she realized what he was trying to say as she caught the signs for ‘mom’ and ‘can’t’ and the failed attempt at a subtle look past her shoulder at the hallway. Carefully as to not scare him, Ms. Lewis reached across the distance to ruffle his hair then gestured for him to stand.

She asked to see the picture again, ever so softly. Still with residual unwillingness, he flipped over his white construction paper. There was a crude stick figure of himself drawn in marker with a two, taller, woman on each side. The one on his left was his mom, with matching brown, curly hair. The one of his right was herself. Her thumb ran across the picture lightly and she smiled so brightly.

She loved it. Connor seemed to relax a bit at her praise, though the tips of his ears flushed.

With some gentle prodding, she finally convinced him to let her take a picture. She touched both index fingers to her lips and drew them out and up into a smile as she flashed her teeth again. His smile was half-hearted at best, but it was the happiest she’d seen him all day. But she didn’t click the camera until a movement in the corner of her eye had drawn both of their attentions. Looking back at Connor, she quickly caught the picture just before he ran to his mother, who opened her arms and picked him up in a big hug. Clicking the ‘review’ button on her camera, Ms. Lewis almost cried. You could see the light glow in his face as his mouth started to open into a real, true smile.

Satisfied, Ms. Lewis stood up, knees cracking, and picked up the candy basket. She approached the pair and waved hello to Connor’s mother. The young woman was flustered and tried apologizing, but Ms. Lewis laughed it off.

“Anytime,” she said, holding out the basket to Connor. Remember her words from before like the diligent student and attentive boy he was, he only picked two candied. However, she gestured for him to take more and held a secretive finger to her lip when his eyes opened in surprise.

“Thank you so much, Katie. I’m so sorry for being late. My shift ran late,” Connor’s mother apologized as she shifted the boy to another hip.

“Please, don’t apologize. I don’t mind watching Connor.” Remember the boy’s story just a few minutes ago, Ms. Lewis shifted to lean against the door frame. “Did you know the school’s having a costume and Halloween party next week?”

His mother set Connor on the floor and looked back at Ms. Lewis with surprise and, just maybe, a hint of relief. But that relief turned into worry. “No, I did not. Does it cost much?”

“No! It cost nothing. Please think about attending. I’d love to see you and Connor there.”

The young mother’s shoulders relaxed as she looked down at Connor, who’d unwrapped the lollipop he’d chosen and plopped it in his mouth. “I don’t know what we would do without you. Money’s a bit tight right now, and you’ve been the greatest help in the world,” she said earnestly.

Ms. Lewis only smiled fondly at the pair and patted Connor’s head again. “Anytime.”