Back to Basics.
“Do you know, I find it quite refreshing to be sitting here with a bunch of six-year-olds? There tends to not be any obfuscation in their communications. They tell it like it is. Of course, the desk is rather small, but I can sit on the floor until my other one arrives.
“Teacher. I know you don’t believe me, as I sound quite articulate to you, but I really don’t get this alphabet thing. I can’t see how these individual squiggles make up a word, even though I know they do because I’m using them to talk to you. Ever since my accident, many things I find confusing, but I feel this alphabet had better be grasped by me pretty thoroughly or I’ll go through the rest of my life with this blankness in it. Is it just a case of memorising the squiggle and then the order they go in to make up a word? Or, do I have to just memorise the whole word. That seems quite a task to me.”
“Henry, you are a successful man and you are on the ‘Rich List.’ Surely you can hire a private tutor to get you over this difficulty you have at present?”
“You would have thought so, but the experts somehow just don’t have a way of putting things like you do with these tots. I find it comforting, somehow, and I also find it comforting to be with these kids as you teach us. I’ve made more progress with you than I ever did with those other eggheads.”
“Of course, I’m honoured to have you here, but you’ll have to curb your tongue and put up your hand like the others if you want to ask a question, and don’t make the questions too complicated. This is the infants class.”
“Yes, teacher, may I go to the toilet?”
Everyone in the class easily accepted Henry except the teacher. She couldn’t get her head around that this famous man had chosen her to be his way of rehabilitating himself to his former level of understanding. Not only had his ability to read left him, but also the numerical skills that he had had, had gone.
With the dedication that he was famous for, Henry applied himself to the task of rehabilitation. He did his homework and didn’t press to have extra favours shown him by the teacher. It appeared that transiting through the early stages of his education again had a soothing and ameliorating effect upon his recovery and it reflected in his attitudes toward his fellow beings.
Henry Withers, child genius, musical prodigy, mathematical wizard and brilliant inventor, possessing of an eidetic memory had returned to some atavistic state, but leaving his ability to verbally communicate intact. He was not truly aware how he responded with his communication with others except that words would pour out of his mouth and seemed to satisfy most that he was fully appraised with what had been said, but it was not so. However, this did not apply to the teacher or the children in his class, he understood them and they understood him. It appeared as if he had a separate identity that only encompassed his juvenile life. But, he was content and gave no real thought for the future.
Not so the world. The world waited with bated breath listening to the reports of his progress in the ‘Junior League.’ They couldn’t understand that this brilliant man who had conquered so much in his lifetime and was on the cusp of solving Man’s most intractable problem was sitting with very young children. He should buck up and throw off this nonsense, the world needed him now.
Gradually by stint of perseverance, he made progress. Letters and numerals were committed to a developing memory and he was able to form words and simple equations. Helen Janos, the teacher became more and more conscious of what rested upon her shoulders. She found her every wish expressed carried out by an army of people intent upon providing Henry with protection from impatient people that needed him right away.
Henry was largely oblivious to most of this. His everyday care was well catered for without any demurring from him. Only outside attempts to interfere with his current teaching arrangements would ignite his ire. The world developed ‘ulcers’ whilst they waited for him to complete his ground-breaking work.
The children with the teacher’s approval, took him under their collective wing. Jason, the youngest boy in the class, taught Henry how to multiply numbers. Mary taught him phonetic sounding of the words and the rest of the class how to put the words in such a way as to make stories. Henry loved it all.
It took two years of dedicated effort on all of their parts until the breakthrough.
The class was singing a simple pop song when Henry stopped singing and stood quite still with his eyes closed. Suddenly he broke down. Something had shifted in him and his full life flooded back. His rehabilitation was complete. He knew everything he’d ever known, but he also felt a humbleness that previously would have been an alien concept. He loved and realised that he had never loved before. Before, he was driven. He had to find out. He had to accomplish. He needed answers, but not out of love, he just had to have answers. He looked at his classmates and teacher and wept with heartrending sobs. He couldn’t stop.
The children and teacher came to him and put their arms about him, and many of them cried for him as well.
Henry was different. The children and teacher knew it. They saw in his eyes something pure and unsullied. He was the same but he was different. Even his smile now was one of understanding as he tried to put his arms around them all.
“I love you all as you have loved me. You have brought me back to life, but to a life that is more so. You have given me your best and I will try to give my best back to you.”
Henry Withers returned to the world and the world breathed a sigh of relief. He completed his research on healthy longevity which he dedicated to all children that came into this life.
In a speech whilst accepting one of the numerous awards, he told the world how they really should give Nobel Prizes to his teacher and every child in his class. Without them, none of what he had more recently done would have been possible.
He still returns to the enshrined classroom every year to honour the teacher and children that had taught him how to love.
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2 comments
Lovely story, well written. I enjoyed reading this. Please take a look at mine, thanks.
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Very well done. To learn to love. To care. How it can be lost.
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