During seventh grade, I had major back surgery, requiring three months of recovery, including in-patient therapy to relearn basic tasks like walking, dressing, and using stairs. Despite this, I kept up with schoolwork through hospital-assigned lessons.
Before returning to school, my mother, school administrators, and teachers— including my PE teacher— held a meeting. Given my medical restrictions, the principal confirmed that my PE grade would be attendance-based. All I had to do was sit on the bleachers, and I was even allowed to read.
However, at the end of the year, I was shocked to see I had failed PE. When I asked the teacher why, she scoffed, “You did nothing all year! You sat and read! You didn’t even dress out!”
I reminded her of our agreement, but she denied the meeting ever happened. I had to escalate the issue to the principal, who immediately corrected my grade. Because I had a formal 504 plan under the ADA, her refusal to honor it led to her automatic dismissal.
Fast-forward to high school: on my first day, I saw her in the hallway. She had been rehired elsewhere. Thankfully, I had secured an exemption from the state PE requirement due to medical reasons, so I never had to take her class.
But three weeks before graduation, I was called to the principal’s office— and there she was, looking smug. The principal informed me I couldn’t graduate because I hadn’t completed my PE credits. Of course, I reminded him of my exemption. After checking my file, he found the superintendent’s signed approval and immediately reinstated my graduation status.
The gym teacher glared at me with pure hatred as I left. Even after twenty years, I’ll never forget that look— but at least I walked across the stage, and she walked away defeated once again.
