For the first half of class, we engaged in warmup stretches, push-ups and (for those not in a wheelchair) jumping jacks. The rest of the time, the coach let us chose what activities to do. Some played basketball, volleyball or tennis while others, like me, tried to avoid participating altogether. It seemed like I was the one most targeted for my lack of enthusiastic involvement.
"Get off the floor and go change into your uniform!" the coach ordered me for the second time.
I was laying in the middle of the gym with my wheelchair parked beside me. We just completed our morning stretches. Everyone else had changed into their required uniforms: a grey t-shirt and black shorts. It was September and sixty-five degrees inside the gym. I was not inclined to change out of my jeans.
I pulled the hood of my jacket off of my face and got into my wheelchair. Maybe I could hide in the locker room for a bit. I turned the electric wheelchair on. I forgot to plug it in the night before and now it was at half charge. Hopefully it would last the rest of the day.
I went to the locker room and retrieved my uniform. I wanted to bail again. I'd skipped class twice last week and the coach threatened detention if it continued. I went to the principal and begged to be taken out of the class. He spoke to the superintendent, but rules are rules so I was stuck. I wanted to rebel, so instead of changing out of my clothes, I put the shorts and shirt, that were too large for me anyway, over my jeans and sweater.
When I re-entered the gym. The coach glared at me, but didn't comment. I smiled. I was about to park myself in a corner of the room and pull out my sketchbook, when she blew the whistle. I followed my other classmates toward her.
"I've noticed that the last half of class many of you are not participating in free period exercise (she looked directly at me), so we're going to spend every day for the last ten minutes running," she announced.
Everyone moaned, except me.
Of course I couldn't participate in running. Did she really think it was punishing me? As everyone lined up to run, I hung back.
"Please get in line," the coach ordered.
I looked at her in shock.
"I can't do this," I said.
"Yes, you can." She replied. "You can go around with everyone else and encourage them to keep moving. You can't just do nothing in this class and expect me to pass you."
I glared at her.
"My wheelchair battery is almost dead. You're going to make me run it down and then how am I going to get around?"
"Going around once or twice isn't going to kill your battery," the coach retorted.
I was livid. I felt that this was a personal attack so I did the only thing I could think of at the time...
Turned my wheelchair to full speed and left the class!
Three minutes later, I found myself crying in the counselor's office.
"The coach wants me to run my battery down, because I won't follow her stupid, pointless rules!" I cried.
The counselor was a really kind woman who often allowed me to spend time in her office whenever I was having a bad day (usually around gym class). The heightened tension between my gym coach and I was a point of concern for the counselor.
"Have you tried having a conversation with her after class, rather than giving her attitude?" the counselor asked. "Everything you've told me this week has started with your not displaying a proper attitude."
I thought about it for a moment. She was right, It wasn't the coach's fault that I had to take gym, but I did take it out on her. After class I went to the gym, to the coach's office.
"I'm sorry I left class again, but I don't understand why I have to take gym," I said in a shaky voice.
"You know, you can participate in this class. I have seen you get in and out of that wheelchair, you are not 100% incapable," she said.
"I know," I lowered my head, "but I am brittle and I can't play sports with the others and I can't run my battery down going around the gym ten times," I insisted.
"You don't have to play sports to participate. I'll bring you some small arm weights and you can lift those. As for walking around the gym - once or twice isn't going to kill your battery. You need to charge it up, but if it really is about to die, then tell me. Don't just run out of here. I will write you up if you do it again." she warned.
"Yes ma'am," I replied.
After that day things got better, although I did get scolded for allowing students to take turns riding on the back of my wheelchair during the ten minute runs. Gym isn't pointless for people in wheelchairs, you just have to find your own way of participating.
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