I first started working in a special education classroom during my freshman year of college, there was a pair of little guys, kindergarten-aged at the time, E__ and M__, both with Down Syndrome, drug exposure, and from Spanish-speaking households (so the hurdles they’re up against are monumental), and the two of them have been dubbed various names such as The Dream Team and Tweedles as terms of endearment for the shenanigans they pull when together- on my second day, for example, E__ started flushing his glasses down the toilet as M__ took off running down the hallway with a pair of scissors. I took it in stride and laughed (you either laugh or cry, after all), but I think the moment where I genuinely began to care for them, the moment I found a place within me to which I could run if they ever started to get under my skin, was during my third week. The way they “speak” to each other is great enough to watch, but I noticed M__ trying to urge E__ to do something during free play time. After a good two minutes (which is a lot for a kid in that situation), I was able to discern they wanted me to put on a CD that said “E__’s Michael Mix” so that E__ could dance. With permission and a knowing smirk from one of the certified teachers, I put it in the player and was surprised when M__ guided everyone but his partner off of the carpet area. E__ stood there, deadpan, as “Thriller” started up. And then he did it. I mean it. This kid, this five-year-old Hispanic kid with all kinds of disabilities did almost the entire “Thriller” dance. And he sang a little bit of the chorus, too, “Fwiiiii-wuuuuuuh! Fwiii-wuuuh-wiiiiigh!” And during any part where there was laughter or sound effects, he imitated those perfectly (that laugh at the end still gave me chills when he got to do it the last day of school this year). And the whole time, his partner in crime was clapping (on beat) and saying his dancing friend’s name to the best of his own ability, and he’d stop everyone that tried to get onto the carpet. No, this was E-__’s show, and he wasn’t about to let anyone else share the limelight. Then “Billie Jean” started, and they switched. Again, more choreographed dancing, and a bouncer on the sidelines. No singing, but a better Moonwalk than I ever could do. And M__ was especially good at the little pelvic thrust thing (cute but highly inappropriate, alas). My heart, it absolutely melted, and the memory still gets me a little worked up if I let myself think too much about it, like I am right now. Those two boys mean a lot to me now, and while I’m sure there would have been a “breakthrough” moment in another way (there always is, or least has been so far), this one is thanks to MJ, the MJ I like to remember more than the one with the scarred public persona, the laughs, the mockery. The bond those boys share to this day was projected at me in full-force with MJ playing in the background, and his music is the soundtrack to their struggles every day. Their camaraderie and Michael Jackson are what get them through rough patches, so I thank and bow to the King of Pop and his memory for that. And, truth be told, seeing the way those boys react to the music and look out for one another as it plays- it made me soften a little to MJ with regards to any “scandals” or what-have-you. I already felt sorry for him in many ways (as I said somewhere else), but I have felt more inclined to do so since that first time E__ and M__ danced for me.