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It Takes a Special Person to Work With Special Needs Kids 2

'I write because there is a voice within me that will not be still' Sylvia Plath

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Ronaldas Bell.

That's my name.

I'm that guy -- or one of the guys who screws "all" of the single parents -- aunts, sisters, cousins ... Someone said that I'm like the character, Christian on a show called, Niptuck. I don't really know what that means. But one of these days I'll research the reference.

What can I say? I'm that kid in the candy or toy store. I see and I must have. And believe it or not, some of the baddest kids have the most beautiful relatives. So if I have to "fake the funk" and pretend to be totally in love with the worse kid, in order to get into his big sister's pants ... So be it. Let it be done.

Just to be clear, my conquests are not limited to the family members of the clients. I've also made my way through some of the employees ... Candy store ... Toy store ... I take that concept very seriously.

For instance, there were three lunch ladies gathered in the staff lounge on break. Devora Hubbard, Adriyanna Higgins and Chardonay Gray. And ... I'd actually been with all three of them. Which I never really gave much thought to usually. But then, I don't usually see them all together, huddled up at a table. Which made me wonder if either one knew that the others had been naked with me. But I wasn't going to pose that question if it wasn't presented to me. Instead I just gave a simple greeting.

"Ladies ... Good morning."

"Good morning Ronaldas," they said simultaneously with varying levels of smile power and ownership.

Which made my mind wander. Making me wonder if there was space and opportunity for all three of them to ... But I pushed that thought out of my head, got a granola bar out of the vending machine and kept it moving.

On the way back to my classroom, I saw two assistants from another class. They were leaving the building to walk 4 blocks to Aldi's to shop for a birthday feast. And in their case, they did both know about the other. Which would be due to the fact that we'd entangled during a Christmas party when they both were just tipsy enough to have loose inhibitions, but lucid enough to know exactly what they were doing.

Currently I was screwing the principal, Veronica Edmonson, a 5 ft 7 inch tall sister who truly had it "going on". And I couldn't get enough of her, if I must be honest. And maybe, just maybe my feelings were deeper for her than I would ever let on. No doubt do to her hacking into the company computer and moving money into my account to boost my salary by $28,000 versus the meager $26,000 that I was supposed to be making. Not to mention the fact that when I mentioned my student loan, she asked me to pull up the site and then entered her credit card number, paying the entire $47 plus thousand ... Yeah ... I was probably going to keep this one.

the-paraprofessional

The Separated Co-Worker

My name is Laetizia Silas.

People sometimes discount me due to the fact that I'm only five feet and three inches tall. But it takes a really special person to not look down on me ... Well, most people had to look down ... But to look down and still look me straight in the eyes ... That was Parnell Clampett. A man I'd had a crush on for about four years.

One of my male co-workers who turned me into Judy Jetson because I thought that he was totally "dreamy". Only, he was married. Something that I had to keep in my mind to keep from staring longingly at him. But when he talked about being a father ... seeing the love in his eyes, hearing the love in his voice for his children ... for someone who didn't know her father, it just did something all up in my insides. And let it be known, he never, ever, never talked about his wife. So when I discovered that they were separated ... It took everything within me not to jump up and down and scream like a church lady with the Holy Ghost.

The only reason I knew what was going on, was because I saw him turn left instead of right -- like three days in a row. So I asked him about it and he told me that he was going over to his mom's house. And I didn't think nothing of it, except, "Wow, how nice. He's visiting his mom. That's so sweet." But then after a few more days, I decided to pry without overtly prying.

"Parnell ... Is everything okay? Are you alright? Something seems ... different about you ... I hope you don't mind me saying ... I'm just concerned. But don't be afraid to tell me to mind my own business."

He smiled weakly at me.

I touched his shoulder.

We were in the hall. So I gestured for him to come in my classroom, which was a couple of doors down from mine. Our teacher was visiting a teacher on the other side of the building and our other two paras were with our students in P.E.

I ushered him to a seat at one of our half moon shaped activity tables and I sat beside him; facing him with open legs, knees to knees and holding his hands. And then I just waited for him to say what was on his heart. Slightly guilty that his heartbreak was feeling like my opportunity.

"My wife and I are separated ..."

"Oh ..." was all I felt comfortable saying.

"So when you saw me going over to my mom's ... it's because I'm living with her right now."

"Ok ..."

"And it's starting to become problematic."

"Is she ...? How is it becoming problematic?"

"My mom is picking fights with me. The first few days were cool. But then she started tripping ... But I lived with her for most of my life. It's her way of trying to push me into going back home. But that's just not the right move. And I can't get her to understand that."

I squeezed his hands.

"I'm so sorry you're going through this."

"Thanks ... I really have to go somewhere else, but I don't know where ... I ..."

"Um ... You need someplace where no one is riding you and you can get your mind right."

"Exactly. Somewhere peaceful."

"Well ... I don't know about peaceful ... But ... My cousin and her boyfriend moved out recently and got their own place ... I have a room ..." My voice was hesitant and shy.

"Silas ... Please don't play with my emotions ..." he said, squeezing my hands back.

"I'd never do that Honey Bunny. I have a nice sized room that I think you'd be very comfortable in. And I'd be glad to have you," I said more confidently, eager to drive my pitch home.

"Um ... How much would you need ...?"

"How much ...?" I wasn't sure what he meant at first, then I realized he meant rent. Which floored me, because lots of my family wanted to stay in my big, roomy house. But no one ever offered to pay me any rent, buy any grocery or put any gas in my car. I could tell right away that Parnell was different.

"Yes. How much do you need for the room?"

I sighed. "Look Man ... You're my friend ... And you need a home ... I'm not going to tax you for that ... I ... Just ... You know ... Just clean up after yourself and don't blast music at night ... And we're cool," I oversimplified. "There's a tv in the room ... We have to share the bathroom ... There's food ... But that's about the sum of it. The room is yours. You can move in today if you want ..."

"You're serious?" he asked, trying to control a grin.

"As serious as the final episode of M*A*S*H."

"That's pretty serious ... Wow ... Okay, I accept your offer Miss Lady Ma'am."

"Good," I said, letting go of his hands and, embracing his face and kissing him on the forehead, even though my first mind was to kiss his lips ... Maybe later on, once I had him under my roof. "Follow me home after work. And I'll have you some keys made later."


One Year Later ...


We sleep in the same bed, eat together and spend most of our free time together.

I pay all of the bills. But he keeps the house clean.

I buy all of the grocery ... But he does a lot of cooking and I absolutely love it.

He gives me money when he has it, but I don't encourage him to.

He's reaping the benefits of being my man, even though he is still legally married.

Though I care about him maybe more than I should, I don't feel as though he'll ever go back to her. For better or for worse, he's home.

the-paraprofessional

The Custodian

My name is Robinson Brooks.

I'm a custodian at the job.

I've been there for ... Whew ... Ten years now ... Wow ... I didn't realize that it had been that long. Crazy.

I'm a simple kind of guy.

Beer. Football. Country music. Driving my pickup truck. Cutting down trees on my property.

I'm a bit scruffy in appearance. Dirt under my fingernails. A t-shirt and jeans type of guy. And I'm Caucasian. So a lot of people in my predominately African American workplace were caught off guard when I started dating a hot Black girl. A speech therapist named Kateri Daniels. Some people say that she looks like that singer, ASHANTI.

Before I hooked up with Kateri, I tended not to date my co workers. I'd look, but I didn't touch. Other than the one time I ended up f**king a case worker at the job. But her head was all over the place. No doubt because she used cocaine and she thought that I was lame for not even considering it. But that's just not my scene.

So when Kateri approached me with a happy birthday greeting about six years ago, it caught me off guard. But then when she asked me what I was doing for my birthday and I said that I was watching a movie and ordering a pizza, she offered to take me out. And I accepted.

About a year later we were making wedding plans.

Me, the guy who takes smoke breaks a couple of times a day at work and throws the cigarette butts in the back of my pickup. And her, the girl who liked motorcycles and had a gun permit and sported wild, DIANA ROSS hair. We were getting married. And we did get married. But then a couple of years in, it fell apart.

We were separated for a year after that, before the divorce.

Part of it was because she wanted to go out with her girlfriends all of the time and didn't cook or clean. Not to mention the fact that she was still in love with her ex boyfriend who also works at the job. And now that our divorce is final, the two of them are planning their wedding. This was after he broke up with his live in girlfriend who thought that she would be wearing his ring.

It's cool though.

I'm not bitter.

At the end of the day, I still had a job to do ... Moving furniture, picking up and delivering items to different buildings, taking vans to be serviced, opening up the building in the morning, mowing the massive lawn ... I'm too busy to be bitter ...

© 2022 LaZeric Freeman

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