“Sure, there are agencies set up to help, but even when these kids get off the waiting list and finally see a human face, it’s usually a different face every few weeks or months. There’s a lot of turnover in most social agencies.
“Besides, most people want to do their job, but they don’t want to get too involved. And the only thing that’s going to help these kids is a hell of a lot of involvement. Once they believe you’re not a nosy do-gooder or putting them on, they’ll trust you. That’s what this program is based on.”
I nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since Luke told me about his father and the fires. It doesn’t seem as though I can do much about his world or the facts of his life or even make up for his father. But maybe I can help him learn to use some tools, skills like reading, so that he can handle school better. That’s one thing. The other is – I’m going to try to show him that I can’t do the work for him – but he won’t be alone. I’ll be there to help.”
Professor Foster stood up and smiled. “Not bad for starters.”
Through the open door I could see four pairs of blue-jeaned legs beneath the hall bench.
“Well, look,” I said, “I know you’re busy. Thanks for the tests. I’ll get them back as soon as possible.”
Luke was standing in the principal’s office with two other boys when I arrived. Now what? I hung my jacket in the music room and walked down toward second grade, not acknowledging Luke’s presence across the hall. I wanted to hear from Lisa what had happened.
Luke’s class was sitting in a circle on the floor. They had pushed the desks against the wall and the children were quiet for once as Lisa put three magnets and plates of paper clips, hairpins, and nails in the middle of the circle.
Lisa obviously couldn’t talk now. She had captured the children’s attention, not an easy trick. It would be unfair to interrupt her. I stopped in the doorway and turned around to leave.
Lisa called, “Luke’s down in Mrs. Karras’s office. You can get him there.”
“Did you send him there?”
“I had to.”
“Then I’m not taking him out. Tell him I’ll see him Wednesday.”
But I couldn’t leave. It was two-fifteen. I really should study those tests Foster gave me, I told myself.
At two-fifty-five Mrs. Karras’s voice carried across the hall. “All right, boys. Get back to your class. And don’t let this happen again.”
I heard them pass the music room, but I kept my head bent over the test manuals.
At three o’clock the bell rang. At 3:05 Luke appeared. It had been worth waiting. “How come you didn’t get me?”
“How come you weren’t in your room?” I countered.
Luke shrugged.
“Listen, Luke,” I said. “I can’t take you out of the principal’s office. If Miss Eckhardt sends you down there, you have to stay there. But it’s dumb. First, you can’t learn anything standing in the office. You missed a good experiment with magnets, and second, I miss seeing you.”
Luke stood silently.
I was beginning to sound like Officer Snow. Come on, Mary. What else can you do? Don’t just lecture. Get up. Move around. Think.
I went over to the board and began to doodle with the colored chalk. I think better when I move around.
Circles. Moons. Faces. Yellow stars. Blue stars.
Luke came over. “Will you show me how to do that?”
“What? Oh, the stars. Sure. Up, down, halfway back up, across. Then back to the beginning. Here. I’ll do each part in different colors. The top is blue. The halfway up in yellow. Across in pink. Then back to the beginning in white. Here. Try.”
Luke said, “I’m gonna do mine all yellow.”
He took the yellow chalk. “It’s like you make a triangle without a bottom,” he said, drawing the beginning part. “And then you start to make an upside down triangle.” He drew up and across. “And then you just sorta finish it up.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Yours is better than mine.” And it was.
Luke’s yellow stars made me think of the boxes of stars in the materials drawer that I had never touched. Unknowingly, I began my first behavior modification chart. I, who had once said Skinner’s pigeons denied the soul of man, got out a piece of oaktag and drew lines for Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Forget Monday. That was done. Then I got out the boxes of stars, gold stars, silver stars, red stars, blue stars, large silver stars, large gold stars. I took the top off every box.
“Listen, Luke,” I said. “Every day you stay out of the office, we’ll put a star under that day.” Already my head was teeming. We could add stars for work done, days in school, fires not set. Slowly. Move slowly. One thing at a time.
Luke stirred the stars with his finger. He examined each box. “Just one color?” he asked.
“Pick your favorite,” I answered.
“Big gold,” he decided.
“Okay. Good. On Wednesday when I come you can stick big gold stars in the days you weren’t in the office.”
The janitor put his head in the door. “Sorry, Miss. I have to close up in here now.”
I glanced at the clock. Ten to four.
“Oh, sure. I didn’t realize the time. We’re through anyway.”
I turned to Luke. “Good-bye,” I said. “See you Wednesday.”
“Can I help put them back?” Luke asked nodding at the stars.
“Sure.” It was so easy to forget how little he had. An empty lipstick tube had been a treasure. Now he didn’t have treasures or a place to keep them. The hole in the ground by the lipstick factory was off limits now. I searched for something that could substitute. An empty carton on the closet shelf. I lifted it down, pausing for a second in the dim light of the closet. Luke was talking, not only talking but using words to ask for something he needed. In our bare music room, Luke was using more words than in all his other days in School 23 put together.
“Here, Luke,” I said as I handed him the carton. “Put the gold stars in here. They’ll be just for you. And your book. And these two pencils. We’ll keep your things in this box.”
Luke nodded. “Can I put my name on it?”
“Yes.” A used carton. A small beginning for a safe place.
Chapter 12
When I arrived at school on the first Wednesday in April, Shirley, Hud, and Jerry were already in the music room.
“Hello, Mary. I’m glad I was able to get you all together. Sorry to interrupt your sessions with the kids,” Jerry said, “but I wanted you all here so we could review where we are right now and where we’re going. Norm Foster’s sorry he couldn’t get down.”
For an hour and a half Shirley, Hud, and I went over our work with Milt, Vernon, and Luke. Milt and Vernon had both made good progress. Luke was the only one who had been in trouble with the police since we’d started.
When we finished, Jerry said, “You’ve done a good job, Shirley. Milt’s teacher says he is attending better in class and the bizarre behavior is decreasing. John” – Jerry never could bring himself to say Hud – “Vernon’s time in the office has decreased by one third and truancy by one half. Congratulations. Mary, I know things have been rough with Luke the last week, but remember, Mrs. Karras said right in the beginning that Luke was what she called ‘hard core,’ meaning he would probably be the hardest to reach.”
I nodded. Our record, Luke’s and mine, was certainly unimpressive compared with the others.
Jerry looked at me carefully. “There is one thing. Please don’t misinterpret this, Mary, but if you don’t feel comfortable working with Luke, I want you to say so. We can make some other arrangements …”
“What do you mean?” I interrupted, as my heart lurched slightly.
“Well, the rapport between the therapeutic teacher and the child is vital.”
Oh, no, I thought. You can’t take him away. I made my voice level. “I’m comfortable. We just need a little more time.” Please, God, let me sound competent.
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br /> “Fine,” Jerry replied. “As I said, I didn’t want my meaning misconstrued. I just want to emphasize the importance of the relationship. In fact, I’d like to review again that part of the written project that defines who you, ‘the therapeutic tutors,’ are. I know we went over this at our first meeting, but just let me read this out loud again.”
“‘The development of the therapeutic tutor is predicated on the belief that in the vast majority of school referrals, emotional and learning disorders are inextricably intertwined and that both aspects of the problem should receive attention. Educational therapy as defined in this project would require developing the tutor’s capacity for creative listening – an alertness, sensitivity to, and an ability to reflect and clarify the child’s underlying feelings and a strong empathy, honesty, and positive regard for the child, coupled with some knowledge of reinforcement techniques.’”
Jerry put down the paper and looked at all of us. “Do you understand what that means?”
We all nodded silently – Luke’s small face clearer to me than any in the room.
“There is just one more point.” Jerry resumed reading. “‘In contrast to traditional psychotherapy, there would be no direct attempt to evoke unconscious material, offer analytic interpretation or attempt to reconstruct a personality. Stress will be on developing self-confidence, ego skills, and developing means of coping.’
“Agreed?”
Again we nodded silently. Luke knew how to cope. He coped with his environment better than I did. He “coped” by not letting it get to him, by shutting it out or running if it got too close, by covering his feelings, turning off his tears.
Jerry put the paper back in his briefcase. “The main reason I called you all together this morning is to go over the program for the rest of the year. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be here more. I’ve been talking to Norm Foster and we’ve decided that there is just no way to add more children now. We’re at the beginning of April and we’ll be through the semester in another two months. John and Shirley, as seniors, will be finished even before that. In order to get reports, grades, and records completed, we have to formally close this project by the fourteenth of May.”
“May fourteenth?” I said. “That’s only about a month away and we didn’t start till February.”
“I know,” Jerry continued. “You notice I said ‘formally.’ Certainly you’re welcome to continue as long as you want. Falls City schools don’t close till the end of June.”
I could come in June. Another month. Eleven weeks in all. Would that be enough? Could Luke and I recoup in eleven weeks?
I would have to plan carefully. The luxury of doing what came into my head was over, at least for now. I had to sit down and prepare for each meeting with Luke. I had to give him the tests I had got from Norm Foster and find out where he was academically, what he knew and didn’t know, and what I must help him learn.
After everyone had left the music room, I went over to the files and got a copy of the experimental elementary school mental health project that Jerry had been reading from and reviewed the points he had made once again.
Creative listening. We did that; Luke and I listened to each other. Alertness, sensitivity to underlying feelings. Yes. Strong empathy, honesty, positive regard for the child. Yes. I felt all those. Where was I going wrong? Why had Luke not made more progress?
Even as I asked myself the question, I knew that I must remember his strengths and what he had accomplished. In spite of the trouble with the police, he had made progress. He who never talked, who never got involved, had talked to me. And he trusted me. I must remember that and trust myself as well. Luke had grown. I knew it. I felt it deep in my bones. Just because he hadn’t shown it to anyone yet didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.
I turned back to the printed sheet and read beyond Jerry’s quotes. “Therapeutic tutoring includes the academic skills, positive regard for the child, coupled with reinforcement techniques, but is primarily concerned with increasing self-esteem and motivation.” Luke was just beginning to use stars. I knew very little about behavior reinforcement techniques. Could I learn in eleven weeks?
“Includes the academic skills …” I had not done enough of this. I must set up more academics for Luke. But first, I must find out how much he actually knew.
“Listen,” I said to Luke. “We’ve got to find out what you know and how you learn best. Okay?”
Luke stared at me silently and hunched his shoulders.
“There are two tests here.”
“I hate tests,” Luke said flatly.
“I know. But it’s no good calling them games when they’re not. Right? Each of them takes about fifteen minutes. The Spache and the WRAT. You can pick which one you want to do first.”
“A rat test? What’s that? You trying to find out if I’m a rat or something?”
“It’s just a funny name,” I said. “It’s really spelling, reading, math. A little of each. Here. Write your name here and then I’m going to say some words for you to spell.”
Luke wrote the letters of his first name carefully on the line I indicated. “Do you want my last name, too?” he asked.
I smiled at Luke. How could anyone say there hadn’t been progress when he volunteered to do more than he was asked?
“Sure,” I answered. “That’s good. Now, these words start out easy and then get hard. I’m supposed to say the word, read a sentence that has the word in it, and then say the word again. Okay?”
“Okay.” Luke picked up his pencil and looked at me hard.
“Go,” I read. “Children go to school. Go.”
Luke sat without moving.
“Write it on the line by number one. See? Here.” I pointed to his page.
“Write what?” Luke’s eyes searched my face.
“Go,” I repeated. “Just write the letters that make go right here.” I pointed again, letting my hand touch his shoulder, just a little.
“Oh. I get it. I thought you were just saying go like ready, set, go.” Luke carefully lettered g-o on the first line.
“Word number two, cat. The cat has fur. Cat,” thinking as I said it that if this had been a group test, Luke would probably have failed. He wouldn’t have written the first word because he didn’t understand what he was expected to do and he would never have asked. He would have sat silently, getting farther behind and more bewildered, figuring that the best way out of trouble, since he couldn’t run, was just not to do anything.
Luke wrote cat and looked at me. “Is that right?” he asked.
“I’m not supposed to say till the end. You just keep going until you think you’ve missed about ten and then I’ll check it.”
“Ten’s a lot,” Luke said.
“It is,” I agreed. “Number three. In. We are in the room. In,” thinking all the time, there’s a lot to learn about this testing business. One thing’s for sure. I’m not going to trust anybody else’s testing. It’s as important to know what the child is doing and saying as to know what his score is.
Luke worked hard, saying the words to himself.
“Number twenty-four. Surprise. He may surprise you. Surprise.”
Luke hesitated. “I think maybe I’ve missed ten.”
I had, of course, been watching carefully, but I took his paper and inspected it.
“Not quite. One more.”
“Jeez,” said Luke. “I got some of those? They’re hard.”
“Yup. They are. Now this one – surprise.”
Luke wrote sprize and I said, “Okay. We’ll give you, mmm, five points for each word you wrote and let’s say you get a star for each one hundred points. Okay? Can you count by fives?”
“Easy. Listen. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty, fifty-five, sixty, sixty-five, seventy, seventy-five, eighty, eighty-five, ninety, ninety-five, one hundred.” He hesitated. “Uh – one hundred and five … one hundred and ten.” Picked up speed again. “One hundr
ed fifteen, one hundred twenty, One hundred and twenty points. Right?”
“Right.”
“Jeez,” said Luke, pleased with himself. “What do I gotta do now?”
“Now you just read these words.” I was as pleased with myself as Luke was with himself. We had got through the first section of the test and Luke hadn’t become discouraged. Testing was not the easiest thing in the world. It seemed to me that I wouldn’t get a true picture of how much Luke knew if he got discouraged, and yet the test was set up so that he had to fail in order to finish the test. Tricky. I was glad we had thought about the stars.
As Luke read the words on the reading section, I wrote what he actually said in order to understand how he figured out words. If he read saw for was it would be an entirely different kind of error from walk for was.
Luke read through the first two lines of words quickly. The ones he knew he knew cold, and he read them without hesitation; the ones he didn’t know he read just as quickly with no attempt to figure them out or admit he didn’t know. He just guessed from the first letter and the approximate length of the word.
I glanced at my watch. Twenty to three. Oh, boy. And this test was supposed to take fifteen minutes. “Listen, Luke, we’re poking along here. We won’t even have time to do the Spache today. We’ll be lucky to finish this one. Wait till we’re done to count your points, okay? Finish the arithmetic section first. Okay. Now read these numbers …”
Luke did his arithmetic problems carefully. Addition and subtraction facts up to ten were both automatic for him; there was no counting on his fingers. He was also more confident. Instead of guessing, he looked at the problem and said easily, “I haven’t had that yet.”
“Just skip it. See if there are any others you know how to do. A lot of this you don’t learn till fourth or fifth grade.”
He found one more problem about how many minutes were in an hour, did it, and then pushed the paper toward me. “That’s it.”
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