Mrs. Wilks returned a few minutes later. She gave me a nervous look and said, "Mrs. Compleigh will see you in just a minute."
"Thank you." I said.
She didn't answer my thanks. She walked over to a large filing cabinet and, using a key from a ring, opened up one of the drawers. She fingered through it for a few seconds and finally pulled a manila file from it. My eyes are pretty sharp, always would be, and I had no trouble seeing my name printed on the tab. She carried the file back through the door from which she'd come. She returned a minute later and sat back at her desk.
Another five minutes went by and the same door opened revealing Mrs. Compleigh. She was about forty or so, with long brown hair that was tied into a bun. She wore a plain brown dress and nylons. Her eyes held a cynical gaze as she appraised me.
"Billy?" She asked. "If you would come with me?"
I stood and pushed my way through the little barrier door and then followed her through the back door. We moved down a hallway past the principal's and assistant principal's office, both of which were empty, a copy machine, a coffee maker, and finally to a door with the counselor's name printed on it.
She opened the door and led me into her office.
Her office was small and cramped with a cheap metal desk taking up a large portion of the room. Two small chairs sat before the desk. Her work area was cluttered with various papers and forms although my file was nowhere to be seen there. Framed pictures of two children, one a boy of about ten, the other a girl of about fourteen or so, sat on the desk flanking her penholder. On the wall behind the desk were two framed degrees from the University of Idaho at Boise. She had a bachelor's degree and a master's degree in public education with a minor in Psychology. The air in the room smelled as if she regularly violated the school no smoking policy.
She worked her way behind her desk and waved me to a seat in one of the chairs. I sat.
"Well Billy," She started. "Mrs. Wilks is a little upset by the way in which you talked to her." She started. "She says you were getting smart with her. Is that true?"
"Getting smart?" I asked contemplatively. "Why do teachers, counselors, and secretaries tell kids not to get smart? Isn't that what we are in school for?"
This produced a few stunned seconds of THE LOOK. Finally she kind of shook her head, as if clearing her mind of my words. "We'll discuss Mrs. Wilks later perhaps." She said finally. "I understand you have some sort of emergency?"
"Yes." I nodded.
"I hope it's nothing serious." She told me. "You're one of our better students here. In fact, if not for some poor grades your first year, you'd probably be in the running for valedictorian. So what kind of emergency does a bright young man like yourself have?"
I looked at her in disbelief for a moment. She had rattled off my school record with the intention of making me believe that she knew who I was and how I was doing in school off the top of her head. She was trying to give me the impression that she knew all of her students by name and could instantly recall their respective records. Her psychology or education classes had probably assured her that this was a good trick to instill trust. I dismissed this without comment only reluctantly.
"Well actually." I said. "I am not the one having the problem. I came here on behalf of Mike Meachen."
Her face clouded a bit. "Mike Meachen?" She asked me. "I don't understand."
"Mike Meachen." I repeated. "Surely you remember him? You talked him and his parents into independent study?"
"I'm afraid," She told me firmly, "That what Mike Meachen and his parents discussed with me or decided to do is none of your business."
"Is that a fact?" I asked pointedly.
"YES, it is." She replied, annoyed. "Now if that's all you wanted to discuss, I have a lot of work to do."
"If that's ALL?" I asked, switching to the adult voice again. "You encourage a student to drop out of school, to destroy his life, and you wonder if that's ALL I want to discuss? What kind of counselor are you anyway?"
"Now wait just a minute!" She said sharply, sitting up straighter and leaning over the desk towards me. "Mike is going to independent study. He is NOT dropping out. He is NOT destroying his life."
"Don't give me that crap." I told her, holding her hostile gaze. "You know as well as I do that no one graduates from independent study. It's a holding tank where you put kids that you think are going to drop out anyway so that when they do, it doesn't go on your statistics."
She actually paled a little as I said this, her eyes telling me she knew that what I was saying was true and that she was shocked that I'd come up with this information. She quickly composed herself however and began spouting the company line. "Billy, that is simply not true." She said. "Independent study is a program designed to help students like Mike when they are struggling…"
"You're quoting directly from the pamphlets, aren't you?" I interrupted. "The ones that the school district administration gave you when they instructed you to seek out likely drop-outs and steer them into this program. I'm sure they told you all kinds of things about how it was for the protection of the school, the protection of the students, the protection of the goddam American way of life. But I can see in your eyes that you don't really believe all the bullshit you're spouting at me. You KNOW what I'm saying is true. You probably wouldn't admit it under torture, but you KNOW. Don't you?"
"I would appreciate you watching your language in here." She snapped, continuing to stare at me. "I refuse to have a discussion with a foul-mouthed child who comes into my office and…"
"Yes," I continued, "You know. And part of you probably hates it, don't you? Or at least maybe you did once. How long have you been doing this? Are you numb to it now? Do you sleep well at night after you send someone to oblivion? How many kids have you steered into this program, talking to their parents like you were a used-car salesman offering a Cadillac for a hundred bucks? How many kids that you steered into this thing might have been saved if you'd have done what your job was SUPPOSED to be and helped them?"
"I think I've heard just about enough from you." She told me. "Please ask Mrs. Wilks to supply you with an office pass since you're now late for first period."
I shook my head sadly at her. "No." I said softly but firmly. "I will not leave until I've had my say."
Her face reddened this time. "Young man!" She barked. "You will leave this office right this…"
"Are you afraid of me Mrs. Compleigh?" I asked.
"NO!" She lied. "I am simply tired of having my time wasted by listening to your paranoid delusions. You are a sixteen year old CHILD. You've come to some strange conclusion in your mind and you think it's the truth. Well I'm nearly forty years old and I can tell you with authority that you don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."
"I struck a few of your chords, didn't I?" I asked, smiling. "I told you a few things about yourself that you didn't really want to hear, didn't I? If you were wise, you would sit down and listen to me for a few minutes. As you pointed out, I'm much younger than you are and you probably don't think I have anything of value to tell you, right? Well someone much younger than me, in a manner of speaking anyway, once tried to tell ME something. And I figured that since I was so much more "mature", that she couldn't possibly be right. Well, I was wrong and I ignored what she had to say, and the consequences of that are something that still haunts me, maybe always will. Do me and yourself a favor and hear me out?"
She looked downright nervous now but finally said, "Say what you need to say."
"Thank you." I replied. "You told me a minute ago that independent study was for students that are 'struggling' in school. Correct?"
"Yes." She said carefully.
"I don't agree with independent study." I said. "I think it's an atrocity. I think you counselors and administrators spend far too much time trying to cover up for poor students instead of trying to help them. Sure, you'd lose a bunch anyway but even if you could save just one, just a single one, wouldn't it be worth it?"