by Brad Cohen
During my junior year of high school, most of my peers were deciding where to go to college. Schoolwork was so hard for me that I didn’t like thinking about college and all the reading I would have to do. But I knew that if I were going to be a teacher, to college I would have to go. One day a voice came over the school intercom announcing that recruiters were visiting that day from Yale, the University of Missouri, and other colleges. One was from Bradley University in Peoria, Illinois. My given name is Bradley and so I thought this might be a perfect match. I met with the recruiter and when she told me that Bradley had a great education major, I decided that was where I would go.
I went home and told my mom and then my dad that I would be going to Bradley University. They both had the same reaction: “You can’t go to a school just because it has the same name as you do!” But after I showed them the literature and explained that it was the perfect school for me because of the location (not too far from St. Louis) and the great hands-on education major, they slowly came around. Although they had trouble with my choice at first, it was probably the easiest post-secondary college decision made by any student in history.
But by my senior year, I didn’t know if I would be going straight to college from high school. I had risen so high in the B’nai B’rith Youth Organization that I decided to run for president of BBYO, a job that would require me to delay college for a year, travel, and make speeches. I was particularly excited about the possibility of this job because it would put me in a wonderful position to help the organization that had so greatly helped me.
I campaigned hard throughout the summer, and that was a fantastic experience in itself. I had a lot of supporters, but in the end I didn’t win the election. Was I upset? Absolutely. I ran to win. But I came in second and had a very positive experience in running my campaign. Looking back, I know things happen for a reason and now I am glad that I lost the election. My entire life could have gone in a different direction if I had won. I had given BBYO everything I could, and the organization had been extremely helpful to me in so many ways. BBYO had given me all the tools I needed to be successful in life. But now, I knew it was time to move on.
Disappointed, but excited to start college, I left for Bradley University, a school that literally had my name all over it. Bradley Cohen attending Bradley University had become a reality.
TESTING THE WATERS: STUDENT TEACHING
BECAUSE OF THE BBYO ELECTION, my transition into college happened very quickly. Until the election was over, I didn’t know whether I was going to take the year off from school or report to Bradley University. So after the election, I had to switch gears quickly. I was home in St. Louis for just one day before I was off to Peoria, Illinois.
I was both nervous and excited about this big change. I felt good about being at Bradley, but there was so much to do to get ready. One of those things was to introduce myself to my roommate—a guy named Dave VanDixhorn. A month or so earlier, I had received a letter from Bradley University giving me Dave’s name and address. He was from Sheboygan, Wisconsin, and he was a few years older than I was.
In addition to discussing things like who was going to bring the TV and who was going to bring the fridge, I needed to tell Dave about my Tourette’s, so in the middle of my BBYO campaign I had called him. I began by asking if he knew what Tourette syndrome was. He said no and I filled him in. It was a scary call for me because it was something that could have gone very poorly. Fortunately, Dave said he was fine with it. I certainly hoped so, because even though he said everything was fine, there was something in his voice that made me think Dave didn’t really understand what an adventure rooming with me was going to be. But when I arrived at Bradley, Dave and I hit it off right away. It was lucky for Dave that I don’t tic in my sleep.
Our dorm room was on the sixth of ten floors in Geisert Hall. This was not a building where a lot of freshmen lived, but I chose it for its air-conditioning and for the computer that came with each room. This was a few years before students needed to arrive on campus with their own computer. Dave and I had a lot in common, including that both of us were education majors. We also had differences, including that he had spent the past few years playing baseball at a small California school, and he was a team mascot for Bradley—something I had always thought would be a lot of fun. Dave was easygoing and had a great personality. Our room was small but we had a window with a view of a shopping mall, and we had all the necessities, including a microwave. I slept on the top bunk and life was good.
Going to college pretty much scared me to death; there were so many people from so many places! I had planned to take my high school approach of talking with my teachers ahead of time about Tourette’s and then standing in front of the class the first day and explaining Tourette’s to the other students. But something happened that changed my plans. Just days after I arrived at Bradley, I unintentionally became a celebrity.
The first week we were all there, everyone was getting to know each other. Classes had not yet started, but fraternity rush was taking place and I was participating in that. A few guys who lived on my floor asked me if I was interested in getting some lunch across the street at the Steak & Fries. I had seen one of the guys around, but I didn’t really know him or his friends.
As we were placing our orders, I was making piercing noises like “Fa, fa … FA, fa … DRA!” along with an occasional “Woop … woop!” and my neck was jerking a bit as well. The Steak & Fries employee behind the counter thought I was drunk and told me I had to stop making noises or he would not take my order. Then he threatened to call the police. My new friends stuck up for me as I was trying to explain Tourette’s to the man. But he didn’t listen and he wouldn’t serve us. I was mortified. Here I was at a new school with new friends and we had just gotten kicked out of a restaurant. I hadn’t even been there a week. The others said not to worry about it—we could just go to Subway—but I was so disgusted I went back to my room instead.
As soon as I got there I couldn’t help but cry. I felt so alone and upset and frustrated. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Classes hadn’t even started and I had already been brought to my knees. I wondered—once again—if Tourette’s would always keep me from leading a normal life. Would I forever be ejected from places other people enjoyed every day? Would I constantly be judged on my tics and twitches, rather than on who I was behind all that? I was totally distraught—this was definitely not the way I had envisioned starting my new life. But after my tears dried, my frustration turned to anger. I tried to deal with the situation on my own, but eventually I broke down and called my mom and then my dad. Mom offered to come get me if that’s what I wanted, but I wanted to stay. I knew I had to tough it out by myself. It was just a low moment and I needed some support in getting through it.
Then the magic happened—people from my floor began coming to my room. They had heard what had happened. I downplayed it as much as I could, but soon people from other dorms were calling and stopping by. E-mail was fairly new at the time but everyone had an e-mail address. Within hours, emails were flying across campus and everyone was talking about me being thrown out of Steak & Fries. Some students—against my wishes—started a boycott of the restaurant. Others even told Steak & Fries management that they were getting the entire student population to boycott the place because of the discrimination the clerk had shown against me.
It didn’t take too many kids threatening a boycott before the manager of the Steak & Fries called me. As I looked out my dorm room window at the shopping mall across the street, I could actually see the guy who was on the phone with me. Of course, he didn’t know I was watching him, and considering the circumstances I didn’t feel the need to fill him in. He was pacing up and down and his hands were flapping—a sure sign of extreme agitation. I could tell just by his voice, though, that he was nervous and he knew they had messed up. He invited me over to the restaurant so he could apologize in person, but I didn’t want to go back there. The place was ruined
for me. But he kept asking and I finally gave in.
When I arrived, he said he was extremely sorry about what had happened and gave some sad excuse for the person who had thrown me out. He also gave me a handful of coupons for free sandwiches. I accepted them, and his apology, with as much graciousness and dignity as I could muster.
I was so very tired of getting kicked out of public places. It was humiliating and I didn’t deserve any of it. This was not the first time my “woop” and “rah, rah” barking noises, my strange facial grimaces, my neck jerks, and all the rest had led people to believe I was drunk or stoned, and probably it wouldn’t be the last. But how I wished that this particular incident had never happened. At the same time, I was amazed and excited about the show of support from my new school. It was far more than I had ever imagined and was truly the silver lining in all this. Because everyone on campus had heard about the incident, everyone felt that they knew me. I had instant friends and it was wonderful. So in that sense, I was almost glad it had happened.
The next week The Bradley Scout, our university newspaper, ran a story about the incident. It was the first of several articles the newspaper staff would run, and they had a field day with it. Front-page stories accompanied by editorials took the franchise owner to task for allowing an employee to discriminate against someone with a disability. I hope it made the people at Steak & Fries understand that even though someone might be a little different, they still had to treat that person with respect.
I gave some of the coupons to the people who were with me when I was ejected, shared some with a few new friends I had made, and used the rest myself. The day I ran out of coupons was the last day I set foot in a Steak & Fries restaurant.
I didn’t care what the other students did. I just made a personal decision not to go back. And I never have.
Despite the problem with Steak & Fries, my fellow students’ show of support encouraged me, and I continued my participation in rush week. The way it worked at Bradley was that you had to go to all twenty fraternities, then wait and see who wanted you. Hopefully some of the ones you wanted to join were also some of the ones who wanted you. There were three rounds of this, so it was kind of nerve-wracking. I was fortunate and was able to join Alpha Epsilon Pi (AEPi), a national Jewish fraternity. I thought this would be a good option for me, especially because I had been so active in BBYO. AEPi did turn out to be an excellent choice, as it gave me a big group of friends to bond with and a great social life. I was selected as pledge-class president (freshman president) of AEPi, and would later become president of my entire Bradley fraternity.
My fraternity activities got me back to what I was good at doing—organizing events and getting people fired up. Everyone in my fraternity accepted Tourette’s right away; it was never an issue for anyone. I don’t know if the stories in the newspaper helped with that, but whatever the reason, this acceptance took a lot of pressure off me. My fraternity connections also proved to be a good way to meet people, and I soon became well connected throughout the Bradley campus.
Classes did eventually start, and with the exception of one professor who asked me not to sit in the front of the class as my noises distracted him, everything was going great. I sat down with Celia Johnson, my advisor, right away and planned out my next four years as an education major.
My very first semester I was quite pleased to be in a classroom working with fourth-graders at a school close to Bradley. I was only there two hours a day, three days a week, but the point was to get my feet wet and see some real teaching being done. I really enjoyed it and took lots of notes. I was fortunate to be working with a wonderful teacher, because she was modeling what I planned to be doing in just four short years. In fact, all the teachers whose classes I worked in as a student—including Helen Ferguson my junior year and Christina Brock-Lammers my senior year—were superb mentors, and I still keep in touch with many of them.
I loved working with the kids. Being in the classroom was so much better than I had ever dreamed it could be. I really couldn’t believe I was finally here! I have always been a hands-on kind of guy. I’ve never liked practicing or learning the theory behind something; I’ve always liked doing. So actually getting to be in the classroom working with kids was the beginning of the realization of my lifelong dream.
As the semesters passed, I assisted in a number of classrooms. By my junior year I was in a second grade class three days a week for half a day; and for one semester of my senior year, I was full time in a class of fifth-graders. The school settings ranged from middle-class suburbs to the depths of the inner city, and the children ranged from gifted students to students with resource needs. I really liked that Bradley’s education program gave me a wide variety of hands-on experiences. I felt I was being well prepared for just about any possible teaching situation.
Every time I went into a new classroom, I would first talk to the teacher about Tourette’s. I was pleased to find that every teacher was pleasantly understanding and committed to me as a future teacher. It was solid validation and very welcome. Then the first day I was in class I’d educate the kids with a question-and-answer session. I explained that Tourette syndrome was a disorder that made me make strange faces and noises that I couldn’t help. As usual, I likened it to sneezing or blinking—you know it’s coming and you can stall it a little bit, but eventually you’re going to sneeze (or blink).
I also explained my Banana Theory to the kids: you can’t judge a banana by the outside. The outside of the banana might be all bruised and discolored and look really nasty, but once you open the banana and peel the skin back, there could be a nice, clean, fresh banana inside. I also explained that there are all different kinds of bananas, just as there are all different kinds of people, and that we shouldn’t judge either the people or the bananas in our lives until we have the chance to “peel back the skin” and learn what’s inside.
Becky Erdman, who was a student teacher at the same time I was, told me she was amazed at how easily the kids understood and accepted my explanations. I’ve always found that kids generally have no trouble understanding the Banana Theory, and it helps them understand and accept Tourette’s. It’s too bad the concept is not as easy for adults to grasp.
While I absolutely loved student teaching, there were some things I had not anticipated. I didn’t realize how tired I would get. Teachers are on their feet constantly. The level of preparation for the lessons is unbelievable. It is extremely difficult to challenge the students who are doing well and to help the ones who are having trouble, all at the same time, in the same lesson plan. I had not imagined the great amount of time I would have to spend on classroom management and on discipline. Even in my student teaching days, I was never quick to give a time-out or to remove a child from the class. I remembered very well what it was like to be the kid in the corner. I knew how awful that felt, so I tried very hard to understand the reasons for a child’s behavior. I believe that if I can find the true underlying cause of the behavior, I can find a way to modify it. Kids need to know that adults care. Once they realize that you care, they are more likely to behave well, or to tell you why they are having trouble.
While I was often busy in the classroom, I still maintained a high level of activity outside my studies. In addition to the responsibilities I had taken on with my fraternity, I also joined Hillel, an organization for Jewish students. Hillel offered a place where you could practice religious activities or take part in the organization’s many social events. It was a great place to meet people, and by now you should have figured that out about me: I love to meet people. I did my typical overachiever thing there, too, and ended up president.
One aspect of Hillel that I especially enjoyed was organizing community awareness events. One event I organized was a Holocaust Remembrance Week. During the week, we held a multiday round-the-clock reading of the names of many of the six million Jews who died in that horrific time. Remembering them that way was extremely moving, as the names became very per
sonal to us.
I was particularly invested in organizing the Remembrance Week because of my BBYO trip to Poland. My traveling companions and I had visited the sites of former concentration camps and then traveled on to Israel, where we met and talked with camp survivors. The trip was an eye-opening experience for me, and seeing the camps and talking one-on-one with the survivors made me want to do my part to ensure that nothing like that ever happened again. After we returned to our homes, all of us who had gone on the trip spent time educating our local communities. I wanted to continue educating people about the Holocaust, and the Remembrance Week activities were one way I could accomplish that.
My sophomore and junior years I lived in the frat house, and I loved living there. No one seemed to mind a guy who jerked and twitched and barked all day long. I had some concern that once they saw a little more of me, as they would after I moved in, Tourette syndrome would become a problem. But it never did. Not once. Through AEPi, I also became involved in the Interfraternal Council, which oversaw all the fraternities at Bradley. My junior year, I was honored to be elected vice president of this council. Despite my early fears that I wouldn’t be able to handle college work because of all the head and neck jerking associated with Tourette’s, I was thriving on collegiate life. My grades were great, my social life was wonderful, and I couldn’t have been any happier.
During my junior year, the Peoria newspaper did a two-page story on me. It focused on my Tourette’s, and my being both a student at Bradley and a future teacher. The story got the attention of many people in the central Illinois area, and the response was unbelievable. There were so many people who knew someone with Tourette’s. What a difference from the time I did the Sally Jesse Raphael Show, when Tourette syndrome was still virtually unheard of. A lot of education had been done in the past eight years, and I hoped I had had a part in that.