This week we continue reminiscing about my junior year of high school traveling back and forth between a special education school and my regular neighborhood high school.

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 27 of Contemplating Life.

This week we continue reminiscing about my junior year of high school days traveling back and forth between a special education school and my regular neighborhood high school.

In my junior year in high school, I was 16 years old That’s the age when one becomes eligible for a driver’s license. It’s also the age when dating becomes a major part of social life. Despite the “normalcy” of attending a regular high school, my inability to drive a car severely limited my experience of difficult teenage years. Even if I had what could be considered a reasonable chance of persuading a girl to go out with me, the prospect of having my parents drive me on a date was not at all appealing. I also couldn’t envision my parents allowing a girl to drive our wheelchair van. The issue was moot anyway because I never found a girl with whom I figured I had half a chance at success.

In my neighborhood, there was a girl whose name escapes me but at one point she stated she wanted to be my girlfriend. I think I was about 15 and she was 16. Her tone of voice made it obvious she was making fun of me and was not the least bit serious. I just told her I didn’t believe her, it wasn’t funny, I did nothing to deserve her cruelty, and she should go fuck off.

Decades later, I’ve fantasized about what I wish I had said. I wish I’d told her that she was nothing but a ditzy blonde. I wanted to say that because she was so hot looking, she would probably attract some football player who would’ve wished he had an IQ approaching 100 (assuming he even knew what that meant). He would blow out his knees in the senior homecoming game, never go to college, get a job in a warehouse or as a truck driver, keep her barefoot and pregnant, come home drunk, and beat the crap out of her. I would explain that in contrast, I was college-bound with a career as a computer programmer. I would likely make a six-figure salary and I was capable of being the most loving and devoted companion she could ever wish for.

I didn’t exactly fulfill the destiny that I imagined for myself in those days. I did go to college, earn a BS degree in computer sciences, and get a decent job. I worked for Indiana University and never made much money. My salary of $11,700 per year in 1977 Is the equivalent of $ 58,700 in today’s money. Had my disability not cut my career short and had I worked in the private sector instead of for the University, I could have easily made six figures eventually. I had to quit my job after two years because I lacked the stamina to work a 40-hour week. Even though I still am a bit bitter towards her for thinking she could toy with my feelings, I hope my vision of her future didn’t exactly come true for her sake. I have no idea what happened to her after she moved out of the neighborhood.

I continued to have feelings for my junior high crush Rosie Shewman. Although she did go out a couple of times with some other guys, she never was in a serious relationship throughout high school. That gave me hope that eventually, she would reconsider our relationship.

You may recall in Episode 22 where I read my award-winning article “The Reunion” I recounted the story of a “rap session” we had at Roberts. Note that we weren’t spitting words to a beat. A rap session meant we had a sort of town hall meeting in which people express their feelings. I made a big speech about the depression we were all feeling about dealing with a disability during our teenage years.

I had another opportunity to discuss life with a disability during a rap session at Northwest.

There were racial tensions at Northwest High School in the 1970s. US District Court Judge Hugh S. Dillon issued a series of rulings that Indianapolis Public Schools was guilty of racial segregation in violation of the famous Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court case. He ruled that the violation was de jure which means “by law” not just by circumstance. Historically, IPS had forced all black students to attend Crispus Attucks High School. That, along with other policies such as real estate redlining, caused a migration of much of the black population to concentrate in certain neighborhoods. Even though IPS longer forced segregation, the damage had been done. He also ruled that a contributing factor was the so-called Unigov initiative. Unigov was legislation that merged Indianapolis city and Marion County governments but excluded the merger of IPS with suburban Marion County school districts. The judge also cited the failure to establish public housing in suburban areas. IPS was forced to reassign staff and to bus children within the district to achieve better racial balance.

In an effort to ease racial tension and create positive dialogue, all of the English classes at Northwest took time off from the regular curriculum to have a sort of town hall discussion of racial issues. Everyone had to take some sort of English class all four years so having it during English insured everyone participated. Teachers invited students to share their feelings about race honestly and openly.

I thought the session conducted by my English teacher, I don’t recall her name, went really well. Black and white students admitted their biases without the discussion turning nasty.

At one point, the topic of interracial dating arose. In those days, it was quite rare. There was opposition to it expressed on both sides. Some said they wouldn’t consider an interracial relationship for fear of backlash. Why bother exposing yourself to that stigma? If you got married, your children would suffer as well.

Then someone uttered the cliché excuse, “I guess it’s okay if they really love one another.” I thought that was ridiculous. How do you get to that point? Except for fairytale love at first sight, how do you fall in love with someone if you aren’t allowed to date them, get to know them, and then potentially fall in love? Why is it okay to date someone of your own race if you aren’t in love but have to be in love for an interracial relationship?

That’s when I spoke up. I said, “We’ve had people here today honestly and openly admit prejudices and biases. But I have a question for you. I want to reassure you that no one’s feelings will be hurt by how you respond. You’ve talked about the difficulties of interracial dating but my question is, ‘Would you date someone in a wheelchair?’ I think there are prejudices and biases toward handicapped people.”

I still cherish the approving smile on the teacher’s face when I said that. I don’t know if she knew it before, but she knew it then… this is why Chris is in this school. This is why he needs to be here not just for him but for everyone else in the room.

One of the girls was curious about how that would work logistically. She correctly assumed that I couldn’t drive. I explained I had a wheelchair van. I wasn’t sure if my parents would allow my date to drive it. Although having my parents as a chauffeur/chaperone wasn’t ideal, it was an option.

One girl hesitantly and awkwardly raised the issue of a physical relationship. When you date someone, even casually, there is still the issue in the back of your mind that this might be someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. Long-term, she would want to know if the guy could be a husband in every sense of the word.

My reply was, “That’s a legitimate concern. And it’s something that a handicapped person might have to address earlier in the relationship than you might normally discuss it. Let me just say that handicapped people have to have a very strong will to deal with everyday life. And as the saying goes, ‘If there’s a will, there’s a way.’”

One of the guys brought up another cliché scenario. “Don’t you hear these stories all the time about guys coming back from Vietnam with an injury and they end up falling in love with their nurse or physical therapist and getting married? They make it work.”

I tried not to laugh and said, “Yeah but there’s a big difference in the relationship between a patient and a nurse versus a guy and some girl in his English class. This goes back to that statement someone made earlier. ‘It’s okay if they really love one another.’ But how do you get from here to there whether you’re dealing with a handicap or a racial difference? If it’s not okay to date someone unless you really love them, how did you get to that point?”

They didn’t have an answer to either question. I allowed them to move on by thanking them for their honest replies and saying I just wanted to give them something to think about that prejudice and bias take many forms.

The teacher continued to smile. I wish I had run into her maybe years later and asked her what she was thinking that day.

It didn’t result in any of the girls coming up to me afterward and offering a date. But that wasn’t the point. Maybe they would look differently at the next guy or girl they met in a wheelchair.

The folks at Roberts did their best to give us social opportunities. We had a class picnic every year that was reasonably fun.

There was a balcony porch just outside the high school classrooms. We persuaded them to allow us to go outside during nice weather to get a break from the monotony of having nothing to do for half of the day. Eventually, they obtained a picnic table and we could sit there and actually do some studying in a better environment.

Some of the guys would smoke out there. Others like myself would serve as a lookout. If a teacher came, we would signal and they would throw their butt over the railing. There was probably a huge pile of cigarette butts in the bushes below. The teachers admonished us that the lookouts were just as guilty as the offenders. Our attitude was, “Yeah so what? Catch us if you can.”

The biggest attempt to create a normal high school experience was that we had a prom each spring. It was a single event for both juniors and seniors. Because that only involved about a dozen people at best, recent alumni were also invited. Add to that most people brought a date some of which were outside the school it made for a reasonably sized little party if not a massive event.

For my junior year, I didn’t want to go. I didn’t have a date. The excuse I gave was that everyone would be getting their picture taken with a date and I didn’t want to be left out. Rosie said that if that was my only concern, she would agree that I could have my picture taken with her. She didn’t have a boyfriend but her official “date” ore junior year was some goofy kid named Richard who also didn’t have a date. It was clear she was only considering him as her date because she felt sorry for him. They arrived separately and went home separately. It was nothing but a photo up for him as well even though she called him her date.

The teachers spent hours for days decorating the auditorium with crêpe paper streamers. We had some sort of background for the photos and there was a theme but I don’t recall what it was. They hired a band which was a fairly lame garage band made up of some friends of Alan Whitney. I seem to recall that Alan sat in with the band to sing a couple of numbers.

There were snacks, punch, cake, and finger food available. It wasn’t a terrible experience since it was kind of fun to get dressed up and have a little party to celebrate the end of the school year. But overall it was pretty lame

The photographer for the event was a teacher Mr. Ball. He taught what we called the “special ed” class. It seems strange that in a school that was entirely special ed, we singled out one class and called that. It was a non-grade program for kids with both physical and intellectual disabilities. Anyway, that teacher had professional photography equipment that he used as a hobby or a side business. It was a large-format camera with professional light stands and it all looked pretty expensive. He seemed to know what he was doing. I got my photo taken with Rosie. We were first in line. When he developed the film, he couldn’t find our photo. The only reason I went to the damn thing was to get my picture taken and I didn’t even get that. Oh well, there’s always next year.

Next week, I’ll talk about my senior year which was much more fun than my junior year. We will have yet another prom, another town hall meeting, and more stories about my mentor Mr. Irwin. I will go on actual dates with (spoiler redaction). And I’ll relive the joys and fears of graduation.

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