‘What if there’s something real special?’ Clem wanted to know.
‘We’ll work it out. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
***
For a month he waited, using the time to lull her into acceptance of a situation she now knew she could not alter. Gradually, the tentacles he wound began to hold her. She liked Jenny, she was interested in the lessons Jenny taught and she was looking forward to the arrival of their new baby. When young Robin visited the class with his mother, she even played with him. A surprise. In the light of his conjecture about her attitude to the arrival of a new baby in her own family, he’d expected her to avoid Robin. He was learning that Fay Margaret was surprising in many ways. What the hell was this girl about? What went on in that enigmatic head?
However, for the time being, no one, not even her classmates, in any way threatened her or asked her to do anything she was not willing to do. It required a sophisticated level of empathy and a great deal of patience. He seriously doubted whether either Adele Turner or even Mrs Ryan could have matched, or anywhere near matched, the group’s willingness to walk the tightrope required to happily work alongside Fay. As ever, his admiration for their sixth sense of sensitivity when it really mattered, astonished him. The result was that Fay quietly and co-operatively participated in most activities.
Because at least half of his group was interested, indeed intrigued, by the rudiments of academic learning, he found that lessons were racing far beyond specified limitations. Like a horse with the bit in its mouth, academic lessons were galloping ahead into forbidden areas. Arising out of the morning discussions following the news sessions, he was frequently compelled to answer questions and explain complex concepts he’d have thought beyond their comprehension. Despite authority’s restrictions, which would limit them to social and domestic training, something novel was happening. These kids wanted – demanded – to know more!
Not only Peter and Clem and Trixie and Meryl and Linda but Fay, too, quickly learned the elementary academic material he began to teach. They also eagerly embraced the more complex craft skills he introduced, welcomed with obvious pleasure the general knowledge information he imparted, enjoyed the educationally-oriented leisure games he encouraged and became engrossed in the self-directed projects he developed. Fay’s involvement in each new experience, the speed with which she absorbed new information, and the pleasure she took in doing it, confirmed his belief in her innate ability.
At the weekly meetings, he began to learn more about her. Unlike Clem and Linda, who inevitably wanted to prolong discussion of the ongoing crisis in Vietnam, she loved anything to do with stories on film. He discovered that as a special treat, or as a reward for good behaviour, her mother took her to the local movie theatre. Apparently, because she had to share the house with so many children and a sport’s mad father, getting to watch her favourites on the home’s single television set was rare. She and Trixie had a friendly disagreement. Fay thought that while Elvis Presley was okay he would not last and that Elvis could not match Julie Andrews when it came to both singing and acting. Trixie thought the opposite. Fay had strong views. Though of course he’d already learned that. Only now, at least within the classroom, she was confidently voicing them.
Her favourite actor of all time was Julie Andrews. Her favourite film was Sound of Music. A surprise? Thinking about it he decided he should not be surprised that Fay, like so many teenage girls, was a romantic. The only real surprise was that, unlike many of her generation, she loved not Elvis but Julie and Julie’s music. In a time when rock and roll and heavy beat music was strongly popular, she preferred traditional music with sentimental lyrics and tuneful melodies.
As always he broadened his program to include the special likes of each of them. Elvis for Trixie and most of the others. Julie Andrews and some of the gentler musicals for Fay and also for Meryl who, after listening to the records and looking at the pictures in film magazines, decided she agreed with Fay. Yet another surprise. Fay was beginning to have a following. Why the surprise? If he was right about her, there should be no reason for surprise.
By the middle of the first term, the group had already settled into an amiable team. Peter, who had unhappily witnessed one of Trixie’s more severe convulsions, even managed to tolerate her challenges to his leadership. Clem, whose stubbornness might have become a problem, was for the present happy in his role of keeper of the attendance chart. He was also, as were the others, joyously entering through the door to new knowledge that their teacher had opened at their instigation. At the same time, both Peter and Trixie remained - at least for the present - happy to accommodate Fay’s emergence from her shy shell.
Although there were minor upsets, all were slowly learning the skills of negotiation and compromise; and respect for the frequently different opinions of their friends. There was as yet no indication that, should Fay blossom as he hoped, the end result could well be the friction of divided loyalties.
Mrs Ryan, who wanted no repetition of the initial disturbance, kept constant watch. She was particularly vigilant at the weekly staff meetings. While not yet discouraging his escalating adventures into new territory, she was adamant that the three Rs, equality between student and teacher as epitomised in his use of first names for all, and suspension of even mild physical punishment should not filter down to the younger groups. Adele Turner, Judith Clancy and Fran Allison were not to even consider emulating the young man with the impossible ideals. For these three, there would be no exemption from standing orders; no reasons given. Though she did occasionally return to the matter of attending a conference or seminar in the city, it remained an impossibility during this late stage of Jenny’s pregnancy.
In his moments of introspection he wondered why the principal didn’t interfere with his program. Why was she giving him his head? Why, although she increasingly expressed her fear of dire consequences, was she still acquiescent? Did it have something to do with what she’d learned about his motivation for staying here? Most unlikely. Mulling it over with Jenny, they concluded the answers lay in Mrs Ryan’s fundamental insecurity. True or false, it wasn’t really important. Whatever this truth, for the moment he was free to follow his instincts.
***
He was outdoors supervising the lunchtime play period when the teacher aide came to relieve him.
‘Mrs Ryan wants you in the office.’ Ruth prepared to take his place.
‘What for?’
‘I don’t know.’
He welcomed the break. Yard supervision, when the older children were free to mix with the younger children, was demanding.
‘Keep an eye on Trixie,’ he warned. ‘She’s running around a bit much.’
‘Don’t worry.’
It was a hot day, the fan-cooled office an oasis.
‘Sit down. You look tired.’ Mrs Ryan pushed across the ashtray.
‘Thanks.’ He lit up. ‘The hotter it gets, the more energy they have.’
‘Or think they have.’ She folded her arms on the desk. ‘Central Office phoned. The psychologist will be here next week.’
‘That’s great. Who is it?’
She looked at the notepad beside the phone. ‘They have a new one, again.’
‘Oh Lord!’
‘You’re right, Mark. I’m afraid we lose our continuity again. It’s not really fair on anybody, least of all the teachers who try to implement their recommendations.’
‘I guess we’re lucky to get anyone.’
‘It’s a woman this time. Madeleine Evans. She’ll be here a full day. Four assessments. I forwarded the names. She’ll bring any additional files. And of course our own files will be up to date.’
‘Some of mine are up for assessment?’
‘Only one, I’m afraid. There really is no time for more.’
He was too disillusioned to bother expressing his disgust.
‘I agree with you, it’s not good enough,’ she conceded. ‘I believe Fay Clark’s case is urgent. I’ve
been keeping up with your regular reports. I have to admit her rate of learning is impressive. She really may be much more advanced than we were led to believe.’
‘It does rather stand out, doesn’t it.’
‘Be that as it may, the psychologist will help us there. It’s the mother. I want your thoughts on her. We are obliged to let her know about the assessment. The point is - do you think we need her actual presence?’
‘Did the psychologist have a view on it?’
‘Miss Evans? She’ll trust our judgement.’
‘I’m not sure.’ He stubbed the butt of his unfinished cigarette into the otherwise untouched blue tray. ‘It’s hard to say. Can I have time to think about it?’
‘Of course.’
‘Fay’s going along nicely. I have to wonder about an assessment right now. I’ve put no real pressure on her yet, just gone along with her attitude. Sort of let her grow as she chooses to.’
‘Is that wise?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You can’t let the child rule the teacher, Mark. It’s asking for trouble.’
‘You’ve read my notes. She’s been a pleasant surprise. I have to wonder ’ an assessment at this time?’
‘Are you saying you want to defer assessment?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
‘Ah! Then I’m afraid that’s just not on. Not at all. In view of the overall doubts about her, and the probability of no additional opportunities for assessment for some considerable time, Fay Clark must be a priority. There really is no choice. Not about an assessment as such. Just about notification of the mother. In the light of recent events, the Board will surely question any other course of action.’
‘The Board knows we had a bit of a problem?’
‘In a word, yes.’
The Board. Again the Board of Management. In the last few months he’d learned a lot more about the Board. Since his promotion, his fellow teachers had been confiding more about the Board. To them, the ruling body was an amorphous thunder cloud that hung over their combined heads and unleashed its interfering turbulence at the most unexpected of times and on the most unexpected of issues. Issues which could be time of opening, length of holidays, scale of salary, purchase of equipment, employment and termination of staff, and interference in management ranging from where they parked their cars to how they controlled their classes.
He’d learned that the Board was composed of local government-approved concerned people. Their major responsibilities were accountability for the large sums of money involved and for the strict guidelines which covered almost every aspect of in-Centre matters. The members of the Board, who received no personal financial reimbursement for even the tiniest out-of-pocket expenses, came from the township of Glenlea’s most responsible community-minded citizens. With the exception of a couple of token parents, they were either professional or management people. With the exception of a single member, a retired ex-city secondary school principal, the members were men.
The motive for seeking election to the Board was almost as varied as the twelve elected. The President was a seldom seen wealthy land-owner with political connections; an ambitious head-hunter, management of a variety of local charities was tangible evidence of his superior skills. A couple were climbing the ladder of commercial opportunity provided by association with the influential president. Another perceived board membership as the obligatory charity that read well on his C.V. The retired ex-school principal? Her motives were mixed; as well as boredom was a desire to meet influential people and a modicum of concern for the welfare of the ‘retarded’. Like the other members of the Board she, too, was seldom seen. As for the two parents, both were earnest tradesmen who’d accepted Board membership as representatives of all parents. They could be seen at weekends working on maintenance or in the garden.
Affiliated with a small Statewide group of like semi-private Training Centres, The Glenlea enjoyed a generous measure of input by a variety of professional advisers and experts. This, as a condition of the financial subsidy, was at the direction of the subsidising Government. The Glenlea Training Centre, as all State Day Training Centres, was charged with the task of training the children to acquire domestic and social skills according to the individual potential of each child. Social and domestic skills only. Just these and no more.
This despotic state of affairs, Mark was assured, was within the framework that controlled subsidy. Though restricted to firm guidelines, each Board exercised powerful control within its own Centre. To further complicate the whole arrangement, because individual members of each Board lived in a particular cultural climate, each Board’s management style and expectations were distinctive. A Centre in Toorak would, therefore, be very different from a Centre in Footscray. A Centre in the mountains very different from a Centre by the sea. Ad infinitum. Worse, was the knowledge that each Board was made up of individuals with an infinite variety of personal agendas, levels of education, attitude to disability, need for power ’ ad infinitum.
The more he learned, the more vulnerable he felt. No wonder Mrs Ryan was constantly on edge. However the exact nature of this Board’s specific agenda was unclear. Deliberately so? Maybe. Because at these unheralded, and unsettling, moments it was as though Zeus himself was thundering orders. As the voice of the Board, Mrs Ryan had declared no further discussion would be tolerated. Thus far and no further. No explanation of why. So, while the Board insisted Fay Clark be assessed it was leaving the matter of the mother’s notification to him.
He’d met a couple of Board members at his initial interview. He’d not been impressed. Would he be any more impressed now? There’d been an annual general meeting with its consequential changing of the guard last year. He hadn’t attended. He’d not been encouraged to attend. If anything, he’d been encouraged not to attend. Which was very okay. Politics were not for him.
This was different. He’d heard Mrs Ryan’s edict. How could he be sure it was the edict of the Board? How could he be sure that Mrs Ryan, as interpreter of the Board’s ruling, had not misunderstood? Misinterpreted? Come right down to it, how would any of the staff ever know just exactly what the Board did rule? It all came via the principal! What if some of her interpretations were off-centre? Not dishonest, just misguided, or misunderstood, or mistaken.
At least Mrs Ryan was an honest woman. Were all Centre principals so honest? What safeguards were in place? What if one of the teachers had a legitimate gripe? How did they get past the principal? Maybe some Centres had safeguards?
They were as yet only vague questions. Questions he had neither the time, nor the inclination, to risk delving into.
‘So there you have it.’ Happily ignorant of her young teacher’s doubts, Mrs Ryan concluded. ‘Arrange for Fay’s assessment. The only thing to be decided is what to do about the mother.’
‘I see.’ He didn’t see at all, but why invite pointless antagonism by saying so?
‘You don’t have to make up your mind yet.’ Magnanimous in victory, the principal smiled. ‘There’s time Mark. Take your time.’
Time. Not space. Time for thought about a single point. No space for widening the scope of the thought. And neither time nor avenue to express disagreement directly to a Board he knew nothing about, even if he wanted to. Mrs Ryan was the undisputed voice of the Board. Not for him and his fellows the luxury of a Workers’ Union, or even of staff representation to the unseen all-powerful Management Board.
Deliberately suppressing his frustrations, he advised his principal not to tell Fay’s family of the impending assessment. Because he had no say in the actual timing of the assessment, for which he questioned her readiness, he must do his best to protect Fay from unnecessary pressures. Therefore the risk of family pressure adding to her nervousness, and thereby adversely influencing results, was not one he would take. She happily agreed. Tacit permission had already been given by the fact of Fay’s enrolment in the Centre.
***
Temporarily situated at th
e reception desk alongside her secretary, on full-time duty for this special day, Mrs Ryan ushered Mark into the interview. ‘Mr Withers is Fay Clark’s teacher.’
Madelaine Evans was a tall blonde grey-eyed young woman. Her high cheek bones, square jaw, athletic carriage and big-boned frame proclaimed an obvious Northern European heritage. Sitting straight and tall, her shining blonde hair falling precisely to the top of her upturned shirt collar, she was at Mrs Ryan’s desk.
‘Hullo.’ The psychologist’s stern appearance melted into the warm crinkle of a broad smile. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘Good, I hope.’ He returned the smile; this woman inspired confidence. Lucky Fay.
‘That would be telling.’ Her throaty chuckle was as friendly and as relaxed and as reassuring as her smile. ‘Do sit down. Good to see a man in this field. Now to Fay.’ She opened the file on the desk - Fay’s file.
‘Fay doesn’t know you’re here,’ he informed her.
‘I already explained to Miss Evans,’ Mrs Ryan was understandably nervous of the big woman who’d taken over her office. ‘She knows we thought it best to inform the mother later. She knows we thought it best not to prepare Fay in any way.’
‘I do appreciate your point, Mrs Ryan.’ The psychologist was at pains to reassure the prickly principal. ‘It’s a delicate balance, of course. Sometimes we have to tread very lightly.’
‘I’m still uneasy,’ Mrs Ryan hovered.
‘It’s done. I should get a much clearer picture. Any warning, and we’d have had pink ribbons in the hair and nervous tension bristling all over the place.’
‘There’s no pink ribbons,’ Mark laughed. ‘Just the usual screwed-up ponytail. Although she has improved, I suspect it’s early days. I have to wonder what’s actually going on with her. I’m not too sure about anything where Fay is concerned.’
‘I hear your wife’s cosmetic and diet programs have begun to make inroads.’
‘It’s nice of you to say so.’
‘Not when it’s true. I’ve also read the file. Pity there’s no finance to pay visiting consultants. They’re so necessary.’
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