Together

All of Us Together

The Story of Inclusion at the Kinzie School

Jeri Banks

Chapter Eight

On Funday in FIBruary,
The kids all jump and shout,
They all turn into clowns
And let their giddiness come out.
Rebecca, seventh grade
Albert asked the question first in speech class, on a balmy Indian summer day when shafts of sunlight highlighted the "sha(r), shaw, shoe, shee" on the speech chart and the warm-for-October breeze blew the playground noises into the classroom. It was recess time for the hearing children, and their songs and shouts were so exuberant that they bothered Albert. He was having a horrible time with the drill. What he finally managed to say was "Why me no outside play?"

And I rephrased his question to "Why can't I play outside?" but I didn't have the answer. "Only the hearing children have recess. The deaf children don't have recess" wasn't good enough. Albert knew the word why, and he knew again. And he could ask why again and again until somebody really thought about the answers instead of just giving them. The deaf children didn't have recess in the old school so they didn't have it here. No one included it in their schedule. Someone said it was for their own safety. No one was sure what the dangers were.

I told Albert to ask Mr. Franklin his question, and he did. Mr. Franklin looked deep into Albert's eyes, and said, "That's a good question. I think you should play outside." As a matter of fact, it was a question that had already become a kernel in the back of his own mind, waiting for some spark like Albert to ignite it.

And things started popping. A new schedule providing fifteen minutes for recess was typed up, the same fifteen minutes the hearing children had. Teachers on "our side" were given an outdoor duty schedule, compliments of Albert. Even the preschool children could play outside. Homer Price's donut bonanza, in which donuts popped out from a donut machine gone berserk and rolled everywhere, couldn't compete with the racing, pushing, tumbling, karate-chopping horde of one hundred deaf students that exploded out of the school doors and confronted the two teachers on duty, only one of whom knew sign language. Balls were intercepted, jump ropes snatched, unwanted tag games started, misunderstandings and miscommunications were everywhere on the playground. There had to be a better way.

A recess committee was formed. Marcia, who was a special ed teacher but also taught art until those positions were all closed, was enlisted to draw a diagram of the play area; and the committee, as seriously as the Axis powers, divided it into territories of domination. The deaf preschoolers and the hearing kindergarten got the swings and slides and teeter totters. The upper grades were assigned the farther-out playing fields, and the remainder of the play area was divided between primary and intermediate age children.