So far, the only person who claims to know the facts is Spence, who works for a state-funded AIDS program covering nine counties in northeast Texas. She says that the students were tested individually at their own request, and subsequently contacted her for counseling. No one else-not even their parents-has been told who they are. But in December, Spence alerted the Johntown school board that six of 197 students were infected at Rivercrest High. She also reported seven more cases at two other schools in the area, making a total of 13 involving teens aged 16 to 19, about evenly divided between girls and boys. Yet Texas health officials count only 357 teenagers with HIV in the entire state. If Spence is correct, either this remote, conservative, heavily Baptist region 100 miles east of Dallas has a vastly disproportionate share of HIV infections-or Texas, and perhaps other states, hasn’t been keeping up with its counting.
In contrast to the early years of the AIDS epidemic, when the rumor of a second grader with AIDS was enough to provoke angry boycotts, the towns involved have generally kept their heads. Johntown superintendent Freddy Wade, who said he was “surprised, but not shocked” at Spence’s figures, waited until after the holidays to inform the school and issue teachers rubber gloves for handling students who may be injured. Two junior-varsity basketball games were canceled when parents from another town refused to let their children play Rivercrest, but on Valentine’s Day a different opponent took the floor and gave Rivercrest a symbol of support, a Valentine reading, “Our Heart Is With You.” “If kids react that way, it’s because the adults are reacting that way as well,” says Wade.
But some people seem to be avoiding panic by disputing Spence’s figures. David Anthony, superintendent of Mt. Pleasant schools, says he “[doesn’t] have enough information to believe” Spence’s assertion that four students in his high school are infected. He says that Spence, who is applying for a grant to open a new AIDS clinic in his town, may have an incentive to exaggerate the problem. She calls such charges “ridiculous.” Spence claims to be the victim of a “witch hunt” by opponents and says her background and credentials have been questioned by her own agency. She is a 40-year-old nurse whose husband died of AIDS but who is not infected herself. She has a reputation as a crusader and agrees that “the most important thing in my life is to fight against the thing that took what I loved the most away.” But she insists that the investigation will prove that she’s been fighting fair. “At this point,” the state Department of Health said at the weekend, “we have no reason to doubt her credibility.”
Meanwhile, the episode has been a learning experience for everyone. To Wade, it proves that “there are no locations that are immune to the virus. We may live in a rural area, but we’re in contact with the rest of the world.” To students, it has been an occasion to re-examine their behavior. Most of the infected students claim they were infected through heterosexual intercourse (although Spence believes they’re not all telling the truth). If true, it proves that plastic wrap or sandwich bags, which some teens say they used because they couldn’t afford condoms, are a poor substitute for the real thing. In general, students say their parents have been understanding. “They tell us to be careful, but they trust us enough to let us make our own decisions,” says Rivercrest sophomore Teri Speir. Rivercrest principal Ray Miller says he saw one big change in students’ behavior, when the school recently screened a film about AIDS. For the first time in the history of sex education in Texas, nobody giggled.
title: “A Hard Lesson Or A Hoax " ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-10” author: “Jennifer Martin”
So far, the only person who claims to know the facts is Spence, who works for a state-funded AIDS program covering nine counties in northeast Texas. She says that the students were tested individually at their own request, and subsequently contacted her for counseling. No one else-not even their parents-has been told who they are. But in December, Spence alerted the Johntown school board that six of 197 students were infected at Rivercrest High. She also reported seven more cases at two other schools in the area, making a total of 13 involving teens aged 16 to 19, about evenly divided between girls and boys. Yet Texas health officials count only 357 teenagers with HIV in the entire state. If Spence is correct, either this remote, conservative, heavily Baptist region 100 miles east of Dallas has a vastly disproportionate share of HIV infections-or Texas, and perhaps other states, hasn’t been keeping up with its counting.
In contrast to the early years of the AIDS epidemic, when the rumor of a second grader with AIDS was enough to provoke angry boycotts, the towns involved have generally kept their heads. Johntown superintendent Freddy Wade, who said he was “surprised, but not shocked” at Spence’s figures, waited until after the holidays to inform the school and issue teachers rubber gloves for handling students who may be injured. Two junior-varsity basketball games were canceled when parents from another town refused to let their children play Rivercrest, but on Valentine’s Day a different opponent took the floor and gave Rivercrest a symbol of support, a Valentine reading, “Our Heart Is With You.” “If kids react that way, it’s because the adults are reacting that way as well,” says Wade.
But some people seem to be avoiding panic by disputing Spence’s figures. David Anthony, superintendent of Mt. Pleasant schools, says he “[doesn’t] have enough information to believe” Spence’s assertion that four students in his high school are infected. He says that Spence, who is applying for a grant to open a new AIDS clinic in his town, may have an incentive to exaggerate the problem. She calls such charges “ridiculous.” Spence claims to be the victim of a “witch hunt” by opponents and says her background and credentials have been questioned by her own agency. She is a 40-year-old nurse whose husband died of AIDS but who is not infected herself. She has a reputation as a crusader and agrees that “the most important thing in my life is to fight against the thing that took what I loved the most away.” But she insists that the investigation will prove that she’s been fighting fair. “At this point,” the state Department of Health said at the weekend, “we have no reason to doubt her credibility.”
Meanwhile, the episode has been a learning experience for everyone. To Wade, it proves that “there are no locations that are immune to the virus. We may live in a rural area, but we’re in contact with the rest of the world.” To students, it has been an occasion to re-examine their behavior. Most of the infected students claim they were infected through heterosexual intercourse (although Spence believes they’re not all telling the truth). If true, it proves that plastic wrap or sandwich bags, which some teens say they used because they couldn’t afford condoms, are a poor substitute for the real thing. In general, students say their parents have been understanding. “They tell us to be careful, but they trust us enough to let us make our own decisions,” says Rivercrest sophomore Teri Speir. Rivercrest principal Ray Miller says he saw one big change in students’ behavior, when the school recently screened a film about AIDS. For the first time in the history of sex education in Texas, nobody giggled.