My Little Brother

by unknown

Growing up with a brother who was 7 years older was difficult. Scott was my idol and it hurt a lot not to be able to go the places he did or hang out with his friends. I was always the dorky younger brother who tried so hard to just fit in. All I ever wanted was for him to be proud of me.

So, when Scott announced that he was going to work the summer teaching mentally challenged kids and asked if I'd like to volunteer, I jumped at the chance to spend the time with him. I was 14 and the only volunteer at the program. Everyone else was 21 and above, either earning college credits in Special Education like my brother, or trying to make a few bucks for the summer.

We had approximately 30 students, ranging in age from 8 to 21, with the majority being my age. I had never had much exposure to the world of the mentally challenged and was a bit taken aback on my first day. Wheelchair after wheelchair rolled off the bus, each with its own special passenger, smiles brighter than the sun in summer. Parents dropping off their bundles of joy, each one filled with the same excitement I felt my first day of school.

And then there was Mikey.

Mikey was 9 years old, tall, thin, and severely emotionally disturbed. He stood alone in the corner, weaving back and forth, afraid. It was as if he was invisible to all the other students and counselors. I walked over to him, reached out my hand and he began to scream. I remember the look of embarrassment in my brother's eyes. I wanted to crawl under a rock and just quit. I backed away and tended to the other students.

Every morning Mikey would get dropped off by his mother, and every morning he would go to the same corner where he spent most of his day alone. Even other students would avoid him, not wanting to listen to the screaming or tantrums he would throw.

Each afternoon the counselors would have their students pair off and do different activities. And each afternoon Mikey would remain in the corner, watching. Feeling more comfortable, I approached the director and asked her about Mikey. She explained that he has been coming to the program for the past couple years and this was how he spent his days and no one had the time needed to spend with him. I asked her if I could be assigned to him. She didn't respond at first and I could see the whole, 'You are only 14 years old! What can you do?' look in her eyes.

'Sure, go ahead. What could it hurt?' she finally replied.

So each morning Mikey would come in and I would be waiting for him. He would walk over to his corner and I would tag right along, standing or sitting next to him for hours, not saying a word. He would scream and everyone would look, but I would just stare straight back at them, determined not to quit. This went on for two weeks. I knew all the counselors were talking about me to my brother. This was not what I had envisioned my summer to turn into. It was suppose to strengthen the bond between my brother and I, not make it weaker.

Then something happened that changed my life forever. I overslept one morning and my brother had already taken off to work. I jumped on my bike and rushed to the school, embarrassed for over sleeping and worried I would be in trouble. I walked into the classroom and the room went silent. 'Oh no,' I thought.

That's when I heard it. Someone was clapping their hands. I shrugged it off as a student just expressing their excitement. Then someone else began clapping. Another student, I thought. No, it was one of the counselors. What was going on? Then it erupted. Everyone was clapping. Were they all being sarcastic that I was late?

It was at that moment that I locked eyes with my brother. He was clapping the loudest out of everyone and smiling at me. I just stood there puzzled until the Director of the program approached me and explained that it had to do with Mikey. Apparently when Mikey arrived that morning and couldn't find me he went around from table to table, counselor to counselor, asking, 'Where's Paul? Where's Paul?'

The Director informed me that those were the first words Mikey had spoken in the past couple years. I didn't know what to say.

I could feel my eyes beginning to fill with tears. I looked over to Mikey in his corner and he was smiling, pointing to me and saying, 'Paul! Paul! Paul!'

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Scott. 'This is my little brother,' he kept reminding everyone with pride in his voice. It was then I began to cry.

The next year I was hired to be a counselor. I was only 15 and had to get a worker's permit. I was in charge of my own group of students and had a college girl as my assistant.

As for Mikey, his family moved out West and I was saddened by the fact that I would never see him again. I hoped that he was all right and thought of him that whole summer.

The last day of the program I received a postcard from California. In barely legible handwriting were the words 'Hi Paul.' It was from Mikey. I knew he was going to be okay.

~Author Unknown~