| |
| It
was in the fifth grade when I really started to feel the
social effects of my five years of intercourse with Ritalin.
No kid likes to be medicated. No kid wants to hear that
they need it. They gave it to me four times a day: once
in the morning, once at school with the nurse after lunch,
once before dinner and once again before going to bed. Sometimes
I believed that it helped. Sometimes it hurt. It always
left a bad taste in my mouth.
|
|
"Go take your medicine...
He said go, what are you stupid?"
|
| |
| My
doctor also prescribed a special special diet-no caffeine.
That meant no chocolate and no Coca-Cola or root beer, in
fact no soda of any kind except for a pale and boring 7-up,
Sprite, or ginger ale. This lifestyle became impossible
to conceal from other students. All the teachers knew about
my behavioral diet, so they excluded me from dark and indulgent
class treats at times. Additionally, if I forgot to go to
the nurse at lunchtime and she would intercom the classroom
calling, "Kevin Schwarz needs to come to my office and take
his medication." Eventually the teachers, when I was acting
up a little too much, enforced my disorder: "Kevin did you
forget to take your medication today?" |
|
| |
| My
professed psychosis had become universally apparent. Everyone
knew enough about ADHD to know that it meant those affected
harbored mental
problems. I hated the way that made me feel. |
|
| |
| I did some substitute
teaching about a month ago and a buried echo unearthed.
On my first day a girl in the class asked me for permission
to go to the nurse to take her medicine. One of the other
children in the class called out that she was crazy so she
had to take Ritalin. Ignoring him, I told her she could go
and she continued to talk to me. The same boy laughed at
her and he cackled, "Go take your medicine... He said go,
what are you stupid?" |
|
| |
 |
|
