Two Angels

I first saw Ellen* on the playground of the two-room schoolhouse that I attended in first and second grade. Ellen was lying on the ground, jerking. I was eight years old and terrified, but I was even more horrified by the chanting crowd of children who surrounded Ellen.

"Witch. Witch. Witch. Witch," they chanted.

"She's having a fit!!" someone cried.

"She's possessed by the devil!" someone else hollered.

Ms. Allen*, our second grade teacher, streaked toward the mob from across the playground. When she arrived, I was already on the ground, hovering over Ellen and screaming at the kids to leave her alone. Ms. Allen dismissed Ellen's tormentors with a look. By this time, Ellen had stopped jerking, and was in a deep sleep.

Ms. Allen scooped Ellen up and, as I followed, carried her into the school and down the hall, where she laid Ellen upon a small cot.

Ms. Allen tenderly brushed Ellen's hair back, and she asked me to stay with her until she woke up. Before leaving, Ms. Allen explained to me about Ellen's epilepsy, and that she had just suffered a grand mal seizure.

"When Ellen wakes up, don't upset her," Ms. Allen warned me.

Ellen soon awakened. "I had a seizure, didn't I," she stated, with a smile. I nodded, as I took her hand.

"Did the kids all gather 'round, again?" She asked. Trying not to upset her, I could think of nothing to say except the truth. "Yes," I whispered.

"They think I'm demon-possessed, you know," Ellen stated, simply. I nodded again, not fully understanding the cruelty I had witnessed. Soon Ellen's mother came and took her home.

After they left, I followed Ms. Allen down the hall to our classroom, where all the children sat with their heads down on their desks. Ms. Allen told them to sit up straight, and she laced into them. She must have talked for over an hour, explaining about epilepsy and superstition. From that moment, both Ellen and I were ignored by the other kids. I could tell that they were afraid, but I just didn't understand why. I believed that I must protect Ellen, and she became my first real friend.

Ellen and I were total opposites. She was gentle. I was willing to pick a fight at the first sign of trouble. She forgave all her tormentors. I didn't. To me, Ellen was an angel of grace, and I thought of myself as her guardian angel. And guard her I did, from the other kids.

I hated Ellen's disease, because I saw how vulnerable it made her to a bunch of cruel and ugly schoolyard bullies. Protecting Ellen in the face of bigotry changed the course of my life. I had once been just like the other kids, picking on others less able to defend themselves. I began to hate my own cruelty, and in time I turned my back on it. Although I could not control the thoughts and actions of others, I could change myself. Through the years, I began to choke the monster of bigotry within myself, until it finally died.

Ellen and her parents moved that same year, and so did we. I've never seen nor heard from her in over 50 years, but still she remains one of the most important persons in my life. Befriending Ellen taught me that I didn't need to be a part of a crowd or a mob. Life has been lonely at times, but at the end of the day, when I take that last look at my face in the mirror, I know that I can live with the person who is looking back at me. And most of all, I understand that I can have the strength to stand up for what's right, even if I have to stand alone.

*Not her real name.

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