Isn’t This Supposed To Be HEAVEN?

Today we’re going to use humor to vent our frustrations.  I wrote this a few years ago and it has been posted on some special education and advocacy websites.  Now I’m putting it here to share with you.  Enjoy!

Isn’t This Supposed To Be HEAVEN?

by Michele Williams

Copyright 2011, All Rights Reserved

A special education administrator died and went to heaven to see about
getting in. St. Peter said, “Well, your mom and dad are here saying you
should qualify, but I don’t know. You see, we have to conduct our own
evaluations. It will take 6 – 9 months, or maybe two years. We’ll let you
know. Would you sign this consent for evaluation right here, please.” So the
man took a seat on a cloud and waited none too patiently.

A year later, St. Peter comes back to the man and says, “Sorry, but that
Consent form wasn’t the right one. Would you sign here please.” A year
later, the man is called in for a conference to talk about the evaluation. A
psychologist angel said, “Well, we noticed that you were extremely impatient
while waiting, drummed your fingers a lot, seemed not to pay much attention
to instructions, and you let us have you sign the wrong form at the get-go.
We suspect you probably have attention deficit disorder. We don’t do
behavior modification here, but we do have a detention room where our
offenders do time before being sent to Hell if they can’t figure “it” out.
We noticed you had trouble learning how to sit on our clouds, so we suspect
you probably need some physical and occupational therapy. You’ve been rude
and deceitful with parents of disabled children on earth, but with extensive
counseling, you can probably overcome that. You’ve been playing crony games
with public funding and key positions, and with personality readjustment
therapy, you can probably overcome that. You’ll have to work hard, try
harder than you’ve ever tried before. If you can make sufficient adjustments
with our accommodations, you might be awarded a diploma entitling you to
entry into heaven. It could take as long as 12 years, but we are
optimistic.”

The personality readjustment angel worked diligently with the man and began
to see progress. Still, when the man was frustrated, he acted out and was
not exactly heavenly-appropriate in some of his antics and verbal
expressions. The personality readjustment angel said to his parents, “I’m
sorry, but if he doesn’t make more progress soon, he won’t make it. ”

“He needs more counseling, some training sessions, perhaps some
role-playing, social skills training,” his parents said.

“Sorry,” the angel said. “There are far too many other angel candidates and
I’m overbooked as it is.”

The angel gave no clues as to what procedures heaven might have for
increasing the administrator’s personality readjustment services, and the
parents were sure that since this was heaven, they would have been told
everything they needed to know and all necessary help would be given. So
they rested on faith.

St. Peter assigned the administrator a physical therapist who worked with the

man to teach him to sit properly on clouds and a flight instruction angel
to teach him how to fly. The administrator got the hang of sitting on clouds
pretty well, but he had a ton of trouble learning to fly. “Look,” he kept
protesting, “This flying bit isn’t easy. I’ve got to learn to trust not
having ground beneath my feet. I’ve got to keep looking at the horizon
instead of furniture around me. I’ve got to keep from banging into other
angels. My flight instruction angel only shows up 80% of the time. I need
more help.”

“Sorry,” St. Peter said. “You’re not trying. If you speak up in your own
behalf, you’re showing a basic lack of faith and trust, and it has tinges of
disrespect for our authority. We can’t have that around here. We’ll have to
give you detention you if you keep complaining.”

The administrator shut up. But the next day, he took off from his cloud with
his flight instruction angel’s full approval and promptly plunged toward
Hell at full speed, flapping all the way.

“I have to say something,” he screamed. “I told you I needed more help, and
it would help if I had both wings!”

“Sorry,” his flight instruction angel shouted downward. “We don’t have the
funding for that.”

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