I received this letter - school paper - from a long time reader of AofA, and asked instantly if I could please share it with you our readers. This young man uses the Rapid Prompting Method to communicate. And just listen to his thoughts..... Rapid Prompting Method RPM empowers the learner a way to express his learning, understanding, reasoning and thoughts.
8-29-13 Narrative – High School Experience – Journal Exercise 1.8
Sam couldn’t do RPM. He was not placing the choices in the right place. I couldn’t touch what I wanted. He placed the choices too far away from me. A giant desk was between us. I had to stretch my arm and it bothered me. It made me tired. My arm felt like lead. Sam also couldn’t speak. He stuttered.
I couldn’t show I was learning anything from Sam. I can’t talk all the words I think and I can’t write. I understand everything read or said to me. It’s ironic. I can’t talk and yet I am critical of Sam's stuttering.
All I could think about was how to hurt him. I came up with a plan, or I had a plan, to hit him whenever I had a chance. They had a bolster blocking me from attacking.
I sat in a lousy hard chair. I was mad because no one knew I was smart. Stinky rotten teachers, Sam was a big black inept jerk. The classroom had cold cinder block walls, yucky zoo classroom. I felt I might as well be in prison.
Ellie gave a workshop on RPM. She was wonderful. I was sad to see her go. She was patient and skilled. She made me feel competent and successful. The other teachers were patronizing. They laughed at her as she spoke and taught. I felt humiliated. I just kept looking down and avoiding eye contact.
It was any other lousy day. I sat in my seat and started to stim with my seeds. I pick up seeds and I drop them while I watch. I feel compelled to do it. I feel anxious and not right. I think of bad thoughts of hurting myself by ripping my skin all over until I bleed out. My skin feels like it’s on fire and my brain. It is torture because I don’t want to do it. It makes it hard to function. I can’t complete any task I want to do. Typing is something I would like to complete so I can talk to every person I want to.
Sam said,” It’s time to work.” I got up from my desk. I felt pain, in my head. It felt like it was going to explode, pressure in my sinuses and behind my eyes, like a grenade. I lunged toward John to attack. I was frustrated from always being wrong. Sam pushed me. My head hit a chair. I felt intense pain on the right side. It throbbed like a drum. I thought they would kill me and get away with it because they were teachers. I cried and wished Mom was there to teach me as well as Sam.