They say you only remember the good times in your life. It’s not always true. For two years that I went to a school for disabled children, and before I was main-streamed into public school, I only remember the unpleasant. Something that never should have taken place. Something very wrong.
I dreaded the moment when the teacher-assistant went on her daily break, I knew it would happen. It wasn’t in some secret place, or even hidden away. With no regard to the other students, it was right there in the class room. I can’t imagine what the other kids were thinking seeing their teacher being disgusting, and using me for his play thing.
Looking back I don’t know why I just didn’t speak up. Maybe I was afraid. I can’t remember how I felt. Maybe I still had trust in the teacher. At that age you’re told the teacher is…
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