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Wednesday, Aug. 06, 2008
5:22 p.m.
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The water ripples out from where Little Rock is thrashing again, and to my left I hear, "He's crazy." A child. A former student.

Before I can really register my anger, "What did you say?" comes spewing out. Blank stare.

"What did you say?"
"Um, nothing."
"I'm pretty sure I heard you say he's crazy."
"Yeah..."

Even.

"He's not crazy. He's autistic. It means that he thinks differently, but he is still a person and he deserves to be treated as such." I don't blink. "Do you understand?"

"Yes..."
"Good."

So angry, for no real reason. He doesn't know better, I know that logically, but I guess I feel that if I let kids get away with "they didn't know better", then I can't expect adults to know better either. Fuck that, I'll teach them myself.

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