Black history month was a couple of months ago, but I’ve never been one to stop talking about any group just because their month has ended.
Even when it’s not February, I’m constantly thinking about the Black people that have impacted my life, especially a Black woman that impacted my early life quite significantly.
Her name was Mrs. Gilbert. She was the first Black teacher I ever had, and I would not have another Black teacher until college.
For years, I’ve wondered how Mrs. Gilbert was and whatever happened to her. I’m always wishing her the best and hoping she is doing well.
Mrs. Gilbert was the first Black woman to have any significant part in my life or development.
She took care of me from the time I was to 2 1/2 years old, when I was placed in the three-year-old preschool class because I was potty trained and knew my alphabet and numbers.
She did not care that I was disabled.
I honestly didn’t understand I was disabled or different really until kindergarten, after my doctors and other children really made it known. Mrs. Gilbert found a way to shield me from that. None of the other kids made any big deal about what I could or couldn’t do, in the four years I spent with her.
Mrs. Gilbert worked at Owens Community College in Oregon, Ohio. She was one of the primary teachers at the child development center. While both of my parents were in school and working, I spent most of my day with Mrs. Gilbert, who I became very close with before leaving Owens.
I attended Owens for both preschool and daycare. With working poor parents, this future latchkey kid stayed at the child development center sometimes until six or seven at night when my dad came to pick me up.
My mother got a job at the development center working nights because I believe she was able to send me there without paying or with a significant discount.
My mother never said it but I’m fairly certain other preschools would not take me, and my family could not afford most of them anyway. I had spent time with my grandparents previously, but I was a very curious child with ADHD and my quest for knowledge and learning knew no bounds.
So I was in the three-year-old class from 2 1/2 to 3 1/2. Then I was in the four-year-old, kindergarten preparatory preschool class for the next two years as Lake, the school district I would attend for K through 12, tried to prevent my matriculation because I was disabled. This went on until I was 5 1/2 and they could no longer prevent me from attending kindergarten.
In kindergarten, I was in the a.m. class so I would go to Owens for the afterschool program for older kids as soon as I was out of school. My mother would often stay there until the night shift, and my grandparents or father would have to pick me up and take me home. Sometimes not till after dinnertime.
When I first started going to Owens I thought Mrs. Gilbert hated me. I thought this because she held me to a higher standard. She knew I could be better. But I resented that. I didn’t like anybody telling me what to do. It wasn’t until I got hurt one day and she pulled me in her arms and held me like I was the most important person in the world that I became very close with her.
It was at that moment that I knew Mrs. Gilbert loved me. She loved all of her children. And I was very sad when I left Owens never to see her again.
One of the things that really sticks out is all of the walks we would go on. My mother would insist that Mrs. Gilbert make me walk because she did not understand neuromuscular disability. While yes, you have to take care of your body with a mix of you don’t move it you lose it and you move it too much you lose it, my mother only wanted the extreme of move move move move move move. My body could not handle that.
Mrs. Gilbert would alter our walking paths. She would have people walk with me, so I could take my time. She would find ways to include me that nobody else would, by accommodating me. She set the bar so that when I got to kindergarten and people mistreated me (not my kindergarten teacher, she is lovely), I knew I deserved better.
Mrs. Gilbert made me feel like I deserved to be a person. As a disabled person she set the standard for how I should be expected to be treated throughout my childhood. She is part of why I am so defiant and why I have fought so hard to be treated like a human being.
Thank you, Mrs. Gilbert, wherever you are. I hope you have had the life you truly deserve.
Love, from one or your kids.
Originally posted on Patreon February 2024.
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