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?"
Before she could answer I continued. "But I've learned that you can't change the world. I'm not trying to do that. I'm just trying to change a little part of it. Sometimes I think you CAN do that. You told me that Mike Meachen was a struggling student. Did you even bother to check his record before you had him and his parents in here? Did you even bother to note that he is NOT struggling anymore before you cut him off at the knees? His grades have come way up since last year. He was on his way to an upper 3 average for the first time in his life. He might have even made a 4.0 for the year until you kicked him out of school."
"I didn't FORCE anybody anywhere." She protested. "Mike and his parents WANTED him to go to independent study."
"No, you didn't force them." I said. "You just brought them in here and waved it in front of their faces. 'Look Mike, you only have to go to school twelve hours a week.' 'Look Mrs. and Mr. Meachen, your child can graduate in only a few months this way. If you don't do this, he might not graduate at all.' Isn't that pretty much the line you handed them? Did I hit upon any exact quotes there?"
She was staring at me with her mouth agape, her face telling me that was exactly what she'd said.
"But since you didn't bother checking his record first, you never noticed that he WAS going to graduate. Not through any efforts on YOUR part I might add, but on mine. The first time you waved this crap in front of him I talked him out of it. I got him to study, I got him to bring his grades up and focus on a goal. Things that YOU are charged with doing. I did them for you. He was on his way to his goals and you steered him right into oblivion. Instead of helping him, you destroyed him."
"He was smoking grass." She said defensively. "At his ROP site. You can't expect me to overlook something like that can you?"
"No." I said, "I can't. He did something stupid, I'm not saying he didn't. He did something that he needs to be punished for so that he learns not to do it again. But is this the answer? Sending him out of school? Destroying his life? He didn't kill anybody for God's sake, he smoked some pot. Jesus, haven't you ever smoked pot."
"Certainly NOT!" She said, much too quickly.
"Right." I said, letting that drop. "And granted, he should not be doing it on his job site. But he's a seventeen-year-old kid. Seventeen year olds do stupid things. Maybe he's got a problem with pot, maybe not. But did you even bother trying to figure that out? To counsel him, counselor? No, you just steered him off into independent study because you've been told to do that with people like Mike.
"Try to think back to when you were in school, to when you decided that being a school counselor or an educator was what you wanted to do. Back before the realities of life shit all over your viewpoint. Didn't you, at one time, want to do this so you could help kids? Wasn't that a goal at some point in your past?"
She was looking me up and down in a manner I'd seen a few times before. My history teacher had looked at me this way when I'd asked her sensitive questions. Mrs. Crookshank had looked at me this way when I'd explained about underachievers to her. Dad had looked at me this way when I'd explained why I wanted to invest in latex. The cop who had taken the assault report had looked at me this way when I'd explained what I'd done. It was the look of a person who had thought they'd been speaking to a child but who'd suddenly realized that they were, for whatever reason, talking to an intelligent and insightful adult. It was a look of confusion and growing respect and fear mixed with awe. It was an extended version of THE LOOK.
"Yes." She finally said. "It was."
"Have you abandoned that goal completely?" I asked next.
She licked her lips for a moment. "I hope not." She shook her head.
"Who wanted Mike out of ROP?" I asked her next. "Was it the fire department's idea or yours?"
"Mine." She admitted. "The fire department expressed concern about the incident and requested we have a talk with him. I was the one who recommended removal from ROP."
"Why?" I asked.