Time Out Page 4

  ✘

  Tuesday arrives after a sleepless night filled with dire predictions about the inevitable combustive outcome of adding a new student who is going to start the second day of my new professional life by calling Donny and Cory dickheads.

  Kevin arrives first, dropped off by his mom because there hasn’t been enough time to arrange a cab. He’s a short, round little guy with a mop of hair that hangs down far enough that I wonder if he can see. I can’t tell if he’s even trying to look at me, but I hold my hand out anyway.

  “Good morning, Kevin. Welcome to your new school.”

  “Dickhead,” he mutters, keeping both of his hands firmly in his pockets. My hand is still sticking out, looking conspicuously awkward. I try to bring it back in gracefully, folding both hands together in front of me like a well-mannered school girl. His mother laughs a little and ruffles his already ruffled hair.

  “Bye, sweetie. Have a good day,” she sings to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek, which he immediately wipes off with the back of his hand, which he then wipes on the front of his jeans. She looks at me with a smile that’s almost bright enough to camouflage the quick flash of sadness in her eyes.

  “Good luck,” she says softly and heads out the front door. I watch her for a second and then look back at Kevin. He’s looking down at the floor. Or his shoes. Or maybe he’s just looking at his hair, which is hanging directly in front of his eyes.

  “Okay, well, I guess we’ll head down to get the other guys. Their cabs will be here any second.” He doesn’t seem too impressed. He’s still just standing there, hands in pockets, head bent toward the ground.

  “So, follow me!” I start down the hall, not sure what I’ll do if he decides to stay where he is.

  I walk slowly for about thirty seconds before looking back. He’s still there. Great. The boys are going to be here any second, and there’s no one else to pick them up.

  “Kevin? We’re going this way.” I try gentle authority instead of obnoxious enthusiasm. He stands still for a few seconds more and then slowly starts down toward me. I’m not sure how he’s figuring out which way to go. Echolocation maybe? We make our way slowly down to the door leading out to the cabs, where he stops short. I head out to get the other two boys, hoping that he stays where he is.

  The other two have already arrived and are just getting ready to make alternate plans for the day when I reach them.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be late on our second day! I have someone for you to meet!” The cheerleader’s back. Buffy the Kid-Slayer. They both look at me with suspicious eyes. Donny looks past me to where Kevin is standing.

  “It’s okay. It’s just a kid,” he says. I’m not sure if he’s telling Cory or himself. The three of us go into the building and stand in front of Kevin.

  “Kevin, this is Cory and this is Donny. They will be working with you.”

  “Hey man,” says Donny.

  “Dickhead.” Kevin says it fast and without particular inflection. He doesn’t look up. I look at the boys, bracing myself.

  “Cool,” says Donny.

  “Cool,” says Cory, with just the hint of a giggle.

  I was expecting fireworks—or at least a punch in the face. But obviously I totally underestimated them. Maybe, on some level, they understand that there’s no real malice in his word choice.

  Or maybe they actually think he’s cool. Or that dickheads are cool.

  Best just to accept it and not over-analyze.

  ✘

  During the next few days, their instant acceptance of Kevin turns into an interesting kind of protective instinct. It also gives Cory and Donny someone else to pay attention to, and they actually get through an hour or two each day without throwing anything at each other or threatening to beat each other’s brains in. From what I’ve seen and heard so far, Cory and Donny are generally examples of Darwinism at its purest; survival of the fittest, adapting to anything and everything with fierce self-protection. I doubt that protecting anyone else has ever been a part of the plan. But somehow Kevin’s presence in the room has started to change the dynamic. Looking out for number one has shifted a little bit to looking out for Kevin.

  “Kevin, I expect you to at least try to do this work. I know you can do some of it because I have your work folder from your other school.” I put the simple worksheet in front of him and hand him a nice fat red pencil. Kevin actually has a pretty complete student file. I know he has multiple learning issues that have only started to be properly examined within the school system. Kevin’s behavior is mostly passive-resistant in nature, which makes him pretty hard to test, but some of the staff who have worked with him in the past have managed to get him to comply a bit, and I have a decent idea as to a starting point. The problem here is that Kevin has different ideas, none of which involve doing anything that I ask him to do.

  “Ms. S, you need to back off him. He doesn’t like seat work.” Cory looks at me as if I’m stupid for not figuring that out myself.

  “I don’t think you particularly like seat work either, but you still do it. Sometimes.”

  “I know, but he’s different. It’s like, harder for him and stuff.” I’m torn between being pleased to see Cory standing up for someone other than himself and the need to exert some kind of authority over Kevin.

  “How do you know that?” I ask, pushing the envelope just a little, a calculated risk that is most likely going to backfire in loudly spectacular ways.

  “Baby told me.”

  Now what? “Baby? Who’s Baby?”

  “I’m Baby!” A high-pitched, vaguely familiar voice comes from the general vicinity of Kevin’s desk. Cory and Donny start to giggle, but quietly, so that they don’t miss anything. I look at Kevin, but he’s still staring down at the paper on his desk without moving.

  This is one of those defining moments in a teacher’s life—the moment when I can take control of the situation and make wise and informed choices that will show my students that I am in control.

  “Okay, Baby, show yourself. I would like to talk to you.”

  The giggling intensifies.

  “I’m afraid of you. I have to stay away.”

  “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I just want to talk to you.” I lean down beside Kevin’s desk. I have no idea what to do here. I’m way out of my depth and sinking fast.

  “Dickhead!” he says, more loudly than usual but in the same deep, guttural voice that he has been using every day.

  “He’s not Baby!” Cory’s voice lets me know that now he’s sure I’m stupid. The giggling has become full-fledged laughter.

  “It’s okay, Kev. You can show her. I don’t think she’ll do anything too stupid.” Donny says this in a gentle voice that I haven’t heard before. Kevin looks over at him, and Donny nods. I’m mesmerized by the moment. I need to grab it and freeze it so I can remember it the next time he decides to tell me into which of my orifices I should shove his undone work.

  Kevin reaches into his desk and pulls out what looks like a stuffed killer whale.

  “I’m Baby,” says the whale in her high-pitched voice. At least, I think it’s a her.

  The laughter dies an immediate death as the boys suck in their breath, watching me to see what I’m going to do.

  Maybe everyone else met Baby at lunchtime, when Mrs. Jackson was covering for me. She’s the new Resource teacher who replaced me. She’s been roped into watching my boys at lunchtime every day so that I can leave the room long enough to grab some food. I’m supposed to stay away a full forty minutes, but I don’t think it’s fair to leave her alone with them that long. She didn’t sign up for this. I’m the only one who’s that crazy.

  And now I’m face to face with a talking stuffed whale.

  I have no idea what Norton would tell me to do here. He is supposed to be my consul
tant. Maybe I should call him for a consult with regard to a stuffed killer whale called Baby who talks a whole lot better than a strange little boy called Kevin. But the kids are still holding their breath, so I don’t really have time.

  “Hello, Baby. I’m glad to meet you,” I say, holding out my hand without thinking about why. Kevin gives me a look that makes me think maybe he has some laughter tucked away inside somewhere. He hands me the whale and everyone breathes.

  “Hi,” says Baby.

  “So, you’re Kevin’s friend,” I say, trying to keep the conversation going. What does one say to a whale anyway?

  “I’m Baby.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Not Kevin’s friend. Just Baby. Just me.”

  “Okay, Baby. I’m glad to meet you.” I already said that. I’m pretty sure I can hear Donny laughing into his hand. Apparently I really don’t know what to say to a whale.

  “Kevin doesn’t like this kind of pencil. It’s too long, and he can’t hold it. He needs the rubber thing.” The whale is looking at me as if I’m stupid for not understanding what her role is here.

  “The rubber thing?” I’m still talking directly to the whale, who is still staring at me with beady little eyes that judge my every word.

  “The rubber thing that goes on the pencil.” If she had a head, she would shake it at me. But she’s really just a body with a mouth that doesn’t move when she talks.

  Not that she’s the one talking. I know that. Really.

  “Pencil grip,” Donny says, swallowing his laughter as he gets up and goes to the side cupboard. “I think it’s over here somewhere.” He rummages around for a bit and comes out holding a rubber pencil grip designed to help kids with motor difficulties hold their pencils more comfortably. He brings it over to me, and I put it on Kevin’s pencil.

  “Thanks,” says Baby as she disappears back into Kevin’s desk.

  “You’re welcome,” I say to the top of Kevin’s desk. “Okay, everyone, back to work. Kevin, I’ll help you get started on this worksheet.”

  “Dickhead,” says Kevin.

  Chapter 6

  Family matters

  “Get the fuck out of my face!” Donny turns his head away, looking at the wall.

  “I’m not in your face. I’m in front of it. Stupid.” Cory slithers over to the wall so he’s still directly in Donny’s line of vision.

  They both came in completely wired today—even more than usual. I was a couple of seconds late picking them up because Mrs. Callahan decided to pull me over for another one of her chats, and by the time I got there, something had happened between the boys that neither of them will talk to me about. The only witness was Kevin, but I knew if I asked him, all I would get is “dickhead.” I thought about asking the whale but decided I wasn’t that desperate yet.

  I might be now.

  “Cory, leave Donny alone and go sit down.” I’m using a calm but authoritative voice…I think. I can’t really hear myself because I’m breathing too loudly. I’m pretty sure they’re about to have a fight. I hate it when they do that. I don’t like to get physical with the kids, but sometimes there isn’t a choice. I’ve asked Mrs. Callahan about the whole child-worker thing, and she keeps telling me she’ll call Mr. Norton and get back to me.

  I’m going to have to call him myself. Now might be a good time.

  “I’m not doing anything to him. I’m just sitting here.” Cory is on the floor beside Donny’s desk.

  “I’m done with this crap. Seriously.” Donny jumps to his feet, and his desk flies across the room. Paper scatters everywhere as the desk crashes loudly to the floor.

  “Think you’re scary or something? Fucking loser, man.” Cory is on his feet. He grabs the edge of his desk and starts to lift it. I grab the other side and shove it back down.

  “You are not throwing this desk.”

  “Oh yeah. Right! Fag-face can throw his and that’s all cool with you. Right? He can do whatever he wants.”

  He’s still trying to lift the desk, and it’s taking all my strength to keep it down on the floor. I’m on the opposite side of the room from the intercom, so I can’t call for reinforcements. I can’t hear anything on the other side of the divider, so my replacement must have her kids in the library or something. I can’t yell for help because that would make me sound like I need help. I can’t let them know that I’m not in control.

  I am not in control. Of anything.

  I decide to sit on the desk, hoping my superior weight will be enough to stop Cory’s efforts. With my hands free, I feel a bit less trapped by the situation.

  “I hate this stupid place. I hate both of you. You’re all assholes!” Donny is screaming by now. Someone must be hearing this. Someone has to come.

  “Donny. Just try to calm down. We can talk about this.” My voice is shaking, and I pray they don’t hear the tremors.

  “Calm down? You want me to fucking calm down? Fine!”

  Before I can even register what he’s doing, he springs forward and punches Cory in the side of the head. Hard. I leap from the desk to intervene, but he’s already out the door and running down the hall. I take a second to make sure Cory is still conscious. He’s looking a bit stunned and slides down onto the floor, holding his head tightly as if he’s afraid Donny knocked it loose.

  I step over him and press the intercom. The office admin’s calm and professional voice asks if she can help me. Once I explain the situation, she assures me she’ll let Mrs. Callahan know.

  Oh, good. Now I feel safe.

  Cory is crying. The angry, aggressive pain-in-Donny’s-butt is gone. All that’s left is a hurt little boy sobbing on my floor.

  “Hey, it’s okay. You’ll be okay.” Empty words.

  “No it’s not. Nothing is. Nothing ever is.” And he cries and cries, water pouring out of him with the force of an opened fire hydrant on a hot summer’s day in the city. He’s hugging himself and rocking back and forth. I watch him for a second, and all of the school system’s rules against physically comforting children go spinning through my mind.

  “I’m sorry you got hurt.” It’s the only thing I can think to say as I wrap my arms around him and rock him back and forth like I do with my daughters when they’re hurt or afraid. He lets me do it for about five seconds until he remembers that he’s super tough, and then he pushes me away.

  “Donny is an asshole,” he says, getting to his feet.

  “Dickhead,” says Kevin. We both look at him. I had forgotten he was here. He doesn’t even look over at us.

  “That’s right, Kev. Donny is a dickhead and an asshole. At least you’re cool.”

  “Dickhead.”

  And just like that, it’s calm. Cory goes over to sit beside Kevin, and look at a comic book that Kevin has hidden in his desk. I can’t leave to check on Donny, so I clean up his mess instead.

  I wish I had some kind of crystal ball so I could see what happens in their lives before and after school each day. All I know about Donny is that he lives with his mom and that there have been some concerns about the quality of her parenting and suggestions that she could be at the root of Donny’s behavior issues. But I don’t know any real details. I do know that Donny doesn’t have any concerns. He talks about his mother as if she’s his favorite person in the world, the queen of his personal castle.

  Maybe Cory said something to Donny about his mother this morning. Criticizing each other’s mothers is a favorite form of verbal torture. That would certainly have caused a fight.

  About forty-five minutes later, Norton comes to the door. Neither of the boys pays him any attention. They’re finished with the comic and are pretending to read a couple of books I handed to them. Cory has a nice big lump on the side of his head but otherwise seems all right physically.

  “I just wanted to updat
e you on Donny.” He’s using a library voice so the boys won’t overhear, but they’re not interested.

  “Thanks. No one else has bothered to.” My voice sounds petulant, but I don’t care. I’m tired and mad.

  “Yeah, well. That’s something else that needs to be dealt with. Anyway, first things first. Donny has been officially suspended for three days. After he left here, he basically trashed everything he could until I got here and restrained him. Lucky I was close by. Anyway, he’s finally calmed down, so I’m taking him home now.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then he comes back when it’s over, I guess.”

  “No, I meant is he safe at home? I know there are concerns about his mom. Do we even know what she’s really like? What she’ll do to him?”

  “No. I’ve called Children’s Services and explained the situation and our concerns. They’ve agreed to send a social worker over sometime today to check, which is a major concession, because he’s not on their caseload.”

  “And what am I supposed to do with him tomorrow? I don’t even know why they were fighting.”

  “You just let it go. He most likely will. You have to pick your battles with this job.”

  “Literally. And there are lots of them to pick from.”

  He smiles at me. I can’t find one to give back.

  “I also want you to know that I’ve spoken to the superintendent, and your principal is being instructed to hire an educational assistant and find you a better space.”

  “An EA? Not a child and youth worker?”

  “No. We don’t have the funding right now. You’ll be getting an EA who’s already in the system. If we get lucky, it’ll be someone with experience that will be useful. If not, we’ll at least try to make sure there’s some training.”

  “Training? Like I got?” I don’t even try to mask the sarcasm.

  “Hopefully a lot better. Ideally you both should do the intervention training together. I’ll look into it and let you know.”

  “Okay.” I know I should sound more grateful, but I just can’t muster up the hypocrisy right now.