Runaway Timmy

The summer before I was to be a Junior in high school I worked at a school where my dad was the principal.  This particular school had both children with learning challenges and children without learning challenges- and to be honest I could never really tell the difference.

I mean, if a kid was in a wheel chair and blowing into a straw to steer it I could tell- but unless it was really apparent- I didn't know- but mostly I didn't care.

There was a kid who would run away and hide every single day- Timmy was his name- (by the end of the summer I called him Runaway Timmy)-anyway, Timmy takes off the first day dad my dad tells me to go an find him-

"Look in closets, under tables, under sinks, he really could be anywhere," he said.

"How will I know him?," I asked.

"Oh, you'll know him when you see him," he responded.

So I go off searching for him, and it is an indoor school, but this little fucker could run out of a door into the street- get hit by a bus- my dad looses his job- I loose my job- and there goes my plan for the summer - which was to learn to type while pretending to work for my dad . Learning to type was a lofty goal- but I have always aimed high.

It took me about an hour to find him - on a shelf in the cafeteria.  The next day he was on a swing on the playground- the next day the kindergarden girls bathroom-every day he found a new place.

" Who is suppose to be watching this kid anyway?" I asked.

"He's as quick as a little bunny," my dad responded.

What was abdunantly clear to me was Runaway Timmy needed to be tethered.  Granted Timmy was challenged (down syndrome) and I understood- even in my youth- I should be sympathetic- but by the end of the summer- I hated his guts.

In fairness, Timmy hated me just as much.

Opportunistic,  he would find the right moment when the teacher's attention would be diverted to make a break for it, my dad would find me - at the typewriter- and give me the daily directive.

I would begin my search- and although some days it took me longer than other days - I always found him.

 Fast and wily, once he was onto the fact I was the person who was there to capture him he would run from me- which meant I had to chase him- and it is embarrassing to have a down syndrome third grader kick your ass in a foot race-  I had to develop a strategy.

It was at this point the search and rescue became a covert operation.  I couldn't out run Timmy, but I was relatively confident I could out wit him.

One particularly hot summer day Timmy bolted just before school was to be let out for the day.

Although it would have been prudent for Timmy to hide inside an air conditioned building, he simply did not want to make it easy for me.   Through the heat vapors raising off the play ground I spied him on sitting at the top of the slide.

Luckily he was preoccupied, and I was able to sneak up the steps behind him.  

"I got you Timmy, and now we are going to slide down together," I said.

"NO...NO...," he shouted, and tried to bite my right thumb.

Since I had size on my side I grabbed him around the middle and pushed off.

Although I have never actually felt the sensation of molten lava on the back of my legs,  it is quite possible what I experienced was very close.  Since the slide was in the process of returning to its original metal state it was not slippery, this coupled with the fact our legs were adhering to the surface, it took about 3 hours for us to reach the ground.

Timmy was hysterical as I walked him back into the class room.

"I told you no...I told you no," he repeated over and over.

"So you were right," I finally said.

"But if you runaway again, we're taking another ride," I added.

I spent the remainder of the summer learning to type.