Speech therapy and Miss Buck

It was 1973 when I first met Miss Buck, whom I will forever remember as incredibly tall and with the widest smile ever seen. I was 7 years old and don't remember how tall I was, but in comparison to the rest of the fellas in school I guess I was a little on the short side. At the time, I was attending Aldrich School, on Aldrich Road, in Howell, New Jersey. A nice lady, Miss Moore, was my teacher. It would be years before I figured out Miss Moore was something of a Hippy, and that is not bad but only lends coloring of the period.

So, Miss Moore made a referral to the principal for myself and Carl Jones, as well as Karen Smith, because all of us had speech impediments. Carl tripped over his words very awkwardly and had real trouble expressing himself. Karen never had an issue I could notice, but her being referred was just one of those things that was a mystery for a little kid. Then there was me.

My parents, Jim and Ruth, spoke a strange version of English, influenced by a very limited vocabulary, Newark slang of the 1930s, Irish slang from the 1920a and Jersey City inflection. It was a wreck. And I spoke it fluently -- with a natural speech impediment. But, the way I spoke was noise to an ear, barely recognizable as conversational English and mispronunciations were incredibly common. Carl and I would be an assignment for any speech therapist.

Well, that referral by Miss Moore was, indeed, for a speech therapist. Miss Buck had the nicest voice, eyes and smile of anyone I knew until then. She had what may be termed as 'kind eyes.' And, she looked to be an athletic girl in her early 20s.

So, Miss Buck ducked her head into Miss Moore's classroom one day and called out the names of Carl, Karen and myself. I had no idea whatsoever this was all about. Miss Buck led us down the hallway, around a few turns and into a media closet near the cafeteria. In that media closet, packed full of projectors and the like, was a small fold-up table and four metal folding chairs.

We sat down and she introduced herself and said she was our speech therapist and we would be working with her for the rest of the year, three days per week in 45 minutes per session.

OK, I thought, a nearly free period of no classwork. That was fine. At first I thought some mistake was made, I didn't have any problem speaking -- but I would play along for awhile and see where it went.Somewhere along the line I listened to myself objectively and was horrified, I remember that.

Over the course of the next two school years, though. I worked with Miss Buck, Carl and Karen. I credit those two years for being pivotal in my verbal development, more so than any other thing in my life. Without Miss Buck, I would have went through life not only with a speech impediment, but nearly unable to communicate with average people. This might not sound like a big deal to people who have never had a speech impediment -- but it was to me. She gave us kids the gift of language and communication.

Her language and sound drills and practices changed the way I communicated 100 percent over what it had been before. Along the way, I hadn't noticed how much this meant to me, until Miss Buck said one day the school district let her go and didn't have a budget for this anymore. It was alright. I could speak by then, but I was sad. I was only a little kid and not able to verbalize what her work had meant to me.

Karen just cried and threw her arms around Miss Buck. Miss Buck hugged her back. Carl and I cried. I told her she had been really important to me, and us (speaking for the group). I said it made me really sad thinking I wouldn't see her anymore -- and editorialized 'that sucks' in there too. Carl also told her his heartfelt regard emotionally. Miss Buck was overcome by our reactions and could not help crying herself, which was a surprise -- usually she was very contained and ultra professional. She tearfully praised our efforts and work in defeating our speech impediments and told us we were going to be fine, and that working with us and making the progress we did together was the reason why she became a speech therapist. At that moment, I thought speech therapists were cooler than being a superhero or a baseball player, the latter being the highest evolution of humanity. This was the first thing I really ever did that was hard and it happened not in a classroom or sports field, but in a media closet next to a school cafeteria.

Outside of that little class, Karen, Carl and I were not friends. So we didn't talk about speech therapy or Miss Buck to each other again. I was sorry that other kids with speech impediments were not going to have Miss Buck. But, I am sure whatever happened to her she did a lot of wonderful work for people.

At this point, I am trying to remember the important things. Miss Buck was one of the most important people in my life, really, and I owe so much in my life to what she did for me in school. When I was a newspaper writer, editor and publisher I wish I had spent more time pushing speech therapy; that is a regret.

I don't know what Miss Buck earned by the hour but it was worth a million dollars to me. There are never enough caring, talented educators in the world.