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“What she said isn’t relevant. I’ve spoken to the girl’s parents, and she’s been disciplined. We’re discussing Erinn’s actions.”
“What did the girl call my sister?” Battle asks, accentuating each word, his tone laced with irritation.
“She called her retarded,” the woman answers. “But that’s not the issue at hand.”
“It’s a mean word,” Erinn shouts. “She said a mean word. Mama said we aren’t allowed to say that word. It’s a mean word.” Again, Erinn laughs nervously.
“You’re right, Erinn, it isn’t a nice word. Sometimes people say mean things, but you can only control how you respond, and what you did was inappropriate,” the woman says firmly.
“It’s a mean word … A mean word … A mean word,” Erinn chants. “You’re not allowed to say that word.”
“Mrs. Jacoby, no offense to you, but I think this girl callin’ Erinn retarded is the issue at hand,” Battle says, clearly agitated. “Erinn has been encouraged to attend school in a quote, typical environment, since pre-school. The thought process of teachin’ tolerance to typical children is clearly flawed if a girl Erinn’s known her entire life feels comfortable referrin’ to her as a retard.”
“Please understand, this is typical child behavior, and we do our best to correct and redirect. Adolescence is a struggle for every child, and one with Erinn’s diagnosis may find it more difficult to fit it in.”
“Which I understand, but as we’re all aware, Erinn isn’t typical. Why do you continue to encourage her to stay in an environment that clearly frustrates her?”
“Because we believe in the process, and your mother does as well.”
“Clearly the process is working out splendidly. She’s thrivin’!”
The room quiets. I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but there’s nowhere else to sit.
“Mr. McCoy, being rude will not help the situation.”
“Erinn is my sister, not a situation. I think this year has been a huge setback for her, but I will speak with my mother and have her contact you. Come on, Erinn, it’s time to go.”
The door swings open. A young girl I assume is Erinn exits the office in front of Battle. She smiles, not directed at me as we haven’t made eye contact, but seemingly to herself. Dimples form deep in her cheeks as she giggles. Long brown curls frame her round, girlish face. She hugs a spiral notebook, covered in doodles and letters, to her chest. A neon-green backpack hangs off of her shoulders.
r /> I meet Battle’s gaze, and he quickly averts his eyes. He turns around and speaks to the Vice Principal. “She can return to school on Monday, correct?”
“Yes, and Mr. McCoy, please understand this is natural behavior at Erinn’s age. Most eleven-year-old girls are trying to find themselves.”
“Erinn isn’t most eleven-year-old girls,” Battle tells her quietly. “However, I hear what you’re sayin’, and I appreciate you tryin’ to do what’s best for her.”
“I am, and I truly believe what’s best is her continuing her education with her peers.”
“I disagree,” he responds instantly. “My mother will call you.”
“Of course.” After a polite nod, the Vice Principal returns to her office.
I stand, feeling nervous and out of place.
Battle smiles at Erinn. His blue eyes twinkle with awe. Obviously, he adores his sister. “You ready, Bean?”
She nods with a bashful innocence that makes her appear much younger than eleven. He cups her shoulder and says, “This is my friend, Faye. Say hello.”
Her eyes dart around the room, never landing on mine, and she says, “Hello.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Erinn,” I smile and offer my hand.
“Oh … Erinn doesn’t like to …” Battle starts to say something, but stops when Erinn takes my hand and shakes it. She hums, and giggles in a peculiar and delightful way. I find her quirky nature endearing.
She releases my hand and says, “Can we go home now?”
“Yes, Bean, we sure can,” Battle answers. Erinn strides to the door ahead of us.
As Battle and I follow, he touches my hand. I look over at him, and he says, “She likes you.”
