It choked me up, and I had a great deal of difficulty controlling my emotions until we were out in the corridor again.
The principal of the school was a short, plump, motherly lady who sat me down in front of a neatly lettered chart,
showing the various types of patients, the number of faculty assigned to each category, and the subjects they studied.
"Of course," she explained, "we don't get many of the upper I.Q.'s any more.
They're taken care ofthe sixty and seventy I.Q.'smore and more in the city schools in special classes,
or else there are community facilities for caring for them.
Most of the ones we get are able to live out, in foster homes, boarding houses,
and do simple work on the farms or in a menial capacity in factories or laundries—" "Or bakeries," I suggested.
She frowned. "Yes, I guess they might be able to do that.
Now, we also classify our children (I call them all children, no matter what their ages are, they're all children here),
we classify them as tidy or untidy. It makes the administration of their cottages a lot easier if they can be kept with their own levels.
Some of the untidies are severely brain-damaged cases, kept in cribs, and they will be cared for that way for the rest of their lives..."
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