a husband and a girl who is six and has the prime number name of Edie (23).
Mrs Kushel knew last spring that she was going to get me as her student and she scheduled a conference with my father who said, âI promise Rose wonât be any trouble.â
When Mrs Kushel asked what my father does about my tantrums at home, he said, âRose doesnât have any tantrums at home, not while Iâm around. She knows better.â And then he said, âHa ha. Just kidding.â
I know this because I was sitting in the waiting room outside the school psychologistâs office and I could hear every word of the conference. I hear lots of things Iâm not supposed to hear, and lots of things nobody else is able to hear, because my hearing is very acute, which is a part of my diagnosis of high-functioning autism. The clicks our refrigerator makes bother me, and so does the humming sound that comes from Mrs Kushelâs laptop computer. One day in school I put my hands over my ears and said, âI canât concentrate! Please turn that thing off.â
âWhat? What thing?â asked Mrs Leibler.
âI want Mrs Kushel to turn off her computer,â I said clearly, in the way Mrs Leibler has taught me.
(âTell me clearly what you want, Rose,â Mrs Leibler says when Iâm out of control.)
âWhy do you want her to turn it off?â asked 4â10ââ Josh Bartel, who sits in front of me.
âBecause of the humming!â
âI donât hear any humming,â said Josh.
âRose, settle down,â said Mrs Leibler.
I hear clicks and humming and whispers. And conversations in the psychologistâs office when the door is almost closed.
Mrs Kushel has been my teacher for 25 school days now.
On the afternoon of day #25 she announces to our class, âI have an assignment that will be fun for you. Youâre going to write a composition about a pet.â
âI donât have a pet,â says Flo, whose name is easy to remember because of the homonyms flow and floe .
Mrs Kushel smiles, which is her way of saying that she doesnât mind that Flo interrupted her. âThat isnât a problem,â she replies, âbecause you may write about any pet at all. If you donât have your own pet, you may write about an imaginary one or someone elseâs pet.â
Mrs Kushel passes out paper and I find my pencil and stare (stair) at the door for a while.
âRose?â says Mrs Leibler.
âIâm thinking,â I say, without looking at her.
I start writing about Rain. I try to remember what Mrs Kushel has said about themes, and what Mrs Leibler has said about not working homonyms into every theme.
âTimeâs up,â Mrs Kushel says after 21.5 minutes.
âWho would like to read aloud to the class? It doesnât matter if your composition is finished. Just read what you have so far. You can finish your work at home tonight.â
Three girls and two boys raise their hands. Mrs Kushel calls on Flo, who reads about a pet she has made up in her head, called a chickapoo, which is a cross between a chicken and a poodle. Flo says her chickapoo doesnât cluck or bark, it clarks. Everyone laughs, while I think about the clarking chickapoo just long enough to figure out that chickapoo is not a prime number word, but a word that is 81, which means itâs divisible by 3, so itâs not as good as a prime number, although itâs interesting.
The next person to read is Josh Bartel, who has written about his four neon tetra fish. âMy mom picked out the first fish for my sister and I last summer,â he says.
I interrupt him right there. âMrs Kushel!â I cry. âMrs Kushel, Josh broke a rule. He wrote, âfor my sister and Iâ and thatâs not right.â
âRose, what have we said about interrupting?â
âBut he was supposed to write, âfor my sister and meâ. Me .