by Liane Shaw
He follows me silently, walking into the room behind me. Sean has the other two relatively settled by the time we get there. I’m really hoping neither of them figures out a way to set Mike off so we can see if the other school is telling the truth.
Cory stares at him. Kevin looks up and decides it’s his job to be the welcoming committee.
“Dickhead.”
“Shut your mouth, fuck-face,” Mike says, without any inflection in his voice at all. I wait for the fireworks to go off. There’s no way Cory is going to let some new kid get away with that.
Mike walks over to the desk I point out to him and sits down, completely ignoring Sean and the boys. Cory doesn’t say a word. It’s almost like he’s afraid, as if Mike’s some kind of mob boss who just walked in on a couple of his underlings slacking off on the job.
I have a bad feeling about this.
The first half of the day is pretty calm. Mike doesn’t actually do any work, but we aren’t going to push that too much in the first half of his first day. We’ll save that for the second half.
Recess arrives, our version of it anyway. We don’t do recess with the rest of the school yet. It is a goal, but at the moment, the total lack of structure and the presence of all the other kids in the school are too overwhelming for my students. Almost without exception, my boys have long histories of serious schoolyard incidents that have resulted in recesses being spent in the office. By the time they get to me, I think they’ve actually forgotten how to play outside, if they ever knew in the first place. We go out by ourselves and practice different sports and schoolyard games so that they’ll be ready when the time comes to reintegrate into the regular population.
Well, mostly at this point in time, we have them practice not kicking the crap out of each other. Today we’re attempting two-on-two soccer, and the focus is on kicking the ball instead of the leg of the person running beside you.
Mike mostly watches from the sidelines. We give him the day to observe. I hope he isn’t plotting a military coup.
“Okay, guys, time’s up. Cory, don’t bother!” He’s aiming the ball at Kevin’s head.
“Just kidding. I would never hurt Kev. Right bud?” Cory throws the ball at Sean instead. Sean snags it and heads toward the school, Kevin and Cory following him without argument for a change.
Mike follows along behind, stopping at the bottom of the wheelchair ramp that no one but us ever uses. He turns around, staring back out at the schoolyard, refusing to look at me.
“I’m staying out,” he says, in that same atonal voice he used on Kevin in the classroom.
“No, you’re not. It’s time to come in.”
Mike stands at the bottom of the ramp and looks directly at me. I try to stare him down calmly, telling myself not to flinch under his gaze. Pretty sure I now know what a deer feels like when a wolf shows up wanting lunch.
“I’m not going in. I like it outside.”
“You don’t have a choice.” I look at Sean, who has stopped at the door. He ushers the other two in ahead of him and does his best to block their view. They’re peering around him, excited to check out the new-guy drama presentation.
Mike is standing his ground, trying us on for size to see if we fit as badly as the suits of authority in his other schools. Checking to see how far he can go and what we’re going to do about it that’s different.
“Yes I do. I choose to stay outside.” His voice never changes, and he never makes eye contact. There’s no emotion in evidence at all.
“It’s time to come in. You can’t stay outside alone. It’s a safety issue. You need to come in. Now.” I’m standing in front of him while Sean watches for a second. I see him duck inside, leaving me here alone.
“I’m not coming in. You can’t make me come in. I can go wherever I want whenever I want. You can’t fucking touch me.” He turns around as if to head back onto the ramp so he can get off to the side and avoid me in his bid for freedom, but he comes up short. Sean is standing in his way.
“Ms. Jackson has the boys.” I guess she sent her kids back to their classrooms so she could guard mine, even though it isn’t lunchtime. Teamwork.
“Actually, we can. We don’t want to, but we will if we feel it’s necessary for your safety. Your parents signed up for that when they placed you with us.” I’m behind him talking, and he doesn’t acknowledge me, but I know he’s listening.
“My parents would never sign anything like that. They don’t let anyone touch me. I do what I want. When I want.” He hasn’t moved or raised his voice. His body is tense, vibrating with what I assume is suppressed emotions.
“Not here. Here you do what we want you to do, when we want you to do it.” Sean is calm and appropriate. Mature and adult. In control.
“Move.” Mike is calm and inappropriate. Mature and adult. In control.
“Nope. You need to go back up the ramp into the school. Now!” The words sound more juvenile and challenging than I intend. What is it about this kid?
“Move.” Mike’s tone changes, just a little. I feel a little plunge of dread in my stomach. It’s not physical fear exactly. This is a kid, after all. Sean is three of him. I’m at least two. That makes five.
But I hate this. I don’t want to get physical with a student. I want someone else to do it.
Actually, I don’t want anyone to have to do it.
“Come on. Let’s head back in. It’ll be home time soon.” Sean is still cool. He’s really proving to be a natural at dealing with these kids. Mike continues to stand perfectly still, but I see his hands slowly curling into fists. I gesture a warning to Sean—a millisecond too late. Mike suddenly springs into action. Literally. It’s like he’s some kind of robot kid with special springs in his feet that propel him upward, moving him and his fists up into Sean’s face in a fraction of a second. Before he can take another swing, Sean has both his hands and has spun him around into a restraint.
Mike kicks and growls, fiercely twisting his body back and forth, trying to bite the hands that are holding him. He spits in my face as I try to get around behind him to help Sean with the hold.
Five times his body weight, and we’re losing him.
“Hi. I happened to be in the school, and Mrs. Callahan mentioned there might be a problem.”
I don’t bother looking up at the sound of Daniel’s voice. Might be a problem? Does he have eyes?
Daniel comes around the other side and tries to get a good hold. Mike’s moving so fast and so ferociously that none of us can even begin to figure out what’s going on and who should be holding which body part. He’s making inhuman sounds that seem to be coming from a place so deep inside of him that we’ll never be able to reach down and find it.
“Look!” The word pops out of Sean’s mouth before he can stop it. He gestures with his head toward Mike’s face. White, foamy spittle is pouring out of Mike’s mouth and dripping down onto his carefully pressed first-day-of-school shirt. Sean shakes his head a little, and the expression in his eyes tells me that this is something he hasn’t seen at the group home. Daniel doesn’t look very confident either. I’m pretty sure none of us knows what we’re supposed to do right now.
“Mike, you have to try to calm down. Come on, buddy, you need to get through this and come inside.” I have to look past the foam and try to find the little boy. He seems to have disappeared.
He’s beyond words at this point, and the only sounds are strange guttural growls and a wet, slurping sound as water pours from his mouth. We’re simultaneously afraid to hold on and afraid to let go. Restraining the kids is the worst part of this job, and we do everything we can to avoid it. Once you have them in a restraint, it’s sometimes incredibly difficult to figure out when it’s safe to let go.
We’re looking at each other, trying to read faces and figure out what’s best for him and for us w
hen suddenly, he just slumps down to the ground. Sean goes down with him as Daniel and I let go gently. Sean loosens his grip, just a little. They sit like that for a few moments, tied up together in an awkward parody of a hug.
“I’ll go in now,” Mike says in a quiet voice.
We look at each other, and I shake my head slightly. It’s a small victory. A very small one.
We walk up the ramp in single file, Sean bringing up the rear. We’re all drained, emotionally and physically.
Just as we get inside the building, Mike turns around and punches Sean full force in the stomach.
“No one fucking touches me!” he screams, as Sean grabs him again. He’s unbelievably back into full-out “blow” mode, kicking, screaming, and punching as if he had all the energy in the world.
This time, he’s made the mistake of pitching his battle right outside the time-out room. We haven’t used it yet, but if ever there was someone in need of de-escalation, it’s this one. He’s finally starting to tire by now, the initial burst of frantic strength weakening enough that the three of us are able to quickly and efficiently put him in the room and close the door. We watch through the safety glass window as he has another energy surge and starts to kick and punch the walls. He’s yelling at us to get his father.
This is all wrong. The time-out room is supposed to be a place to help them, not lock them in. But I don’t think any one of us would be safe going in there with him right now.
“Mike, you need to calm down and listen to me. We need to go over some of the rules of this school. You need to calm down so we know it’s okay to come in.”
“Fuck you!”
“All right, I’ll try again in a few minutes. When you’re able to calm down enough to talk to me, I’ll be ready to listen to you.”
“Are you two all right with him now? Or do you want me to stay and speak with his parents?” Daniel asks. I look at him for a second, tempted beyond measure to just hand it all over to him.
“No. It’s best if I handle the rest myself. My class. My authority and all that. But thanks. Glad you showed up when you did.”
“Glad I could help. I’ll let Mrs. Callahan know what’s going on, and I’ll check in tomorrow.”
I leave Sean guarding the door, watching to make sure Mike doesn’t actually hurt himself, and head back to the classroom. The day is almost over, and I want to get our other boys back and out the door without any more major upsets.
They’re doing much better than I expected with a complete stranger watching over them. The intensity of Mike’s first day seems to have shaken them a little, and they’re both sitting in their seats pretending to read.
“Good job, guys. Thanks for making this a little easier.”
“What’s his problem?” Cory asks.
“Dickhead,” says Kevin.
“Oh, right,” says Cory.
A laugh spurts out of me before I can stop it. Both boys look at me as if I’m nuts.
“Anyway, guys. It’s just…everyone has a bad day sometimes. Especially when they’re somewhere new. Right?”
“Whatever.” Empathy isn’t Cory’s best trick.
“Well, let’s get organized so you don’t miss your rides.”
They’re both more than happy to comply. Today, anyway.
Mike’s parents haven’t arranged transportation as yet, and no one has called from the office to say that they’re here to pick him up, so we have a few minutes. I head back down to the time-out room.
Sean is still standing, watching through the window. Mike has stopped kicking and screaming for the moment.
“Hi, Mike. Are you ready to talk a bit?”
“Fuck you, bitch!”
“Guess not. Okay, well, I’ll just let your parents know that you’re going to be a little late getting down to the office to go home. When I get back, we’ll talk a little and make sure you understand what happened here before you head off.”
“I want my parents here right now. I’m going home now! You can’t keep me here!”
I walk away and down to the other end of the school where the lights are brighter and the air smells fresher. Mike’s parents are waiting in the front office.
“How was his afternoon?” his dad asks as I walk in.
“Well, he started off all right, but things got a little tougher after recess. He’s still in time out and will need a few minutes of de-escalation before he can go home.”
“Well, we’re here now, so we can come down and get him and take him home. I can manage him.”
“Unfortunately, that won’t work. Most of the time, we’re going to be dealing with a cab company, and we won’t be able to send him home in an agitated condition. He has to learn how to calm down and follow directions—our directions—if he’s going to be safe.”
“I really think it’s best if I just go down and talk to him. He’ll come with me.”
“I have no doubt about that at all. He wants to go with you to get away from me. But that’s not in his best interest.”
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. You’re here to get Mike.” Stating the obvious, Mrs. Callahan arrives on the scene, high heels clicking, perfume wafting, and blood-red manicured nails extended in a girlie handshake. Mr. Williams ignores her hand and her perfume.
“We’re trying to, but she has him down in that time-out room, and she won’t let us take him.” He points to me. Mrs. Callahan looks at me like she wishes she could put me in the time-out room. Permanently.
“What’s this about, Ms. S?” she asks, all false politeness over an undertone of steely anger.
“It’s about authority. Mine. He has to know that I’m in charge here. That he has to do what I ask him to. Which is simply to talk to me for a few moments about what happened.”
“He had one of his tempers?” There’s an almost imperceptible note of pride in the father’s voice. Almost.
“I’m not sure that’s the best or most descriptive term for it, but yes, he had a significant episode. He’s in the time-out room, under supervision, and he needs to talk with me before he can go.”
“He can talk to you tomorrow.”
“He won’t be welcome back into my class tomorrow if you take him without letting me follow through.” I look at Callahan, just daring her to fight me on this one. She opens her mouth as if to do exactly that, but I see the quick calculations in her eyes as she figures it out. She knows. No one else will take my class. She’ll be the one stuck trying to find supply teachers to take care of things if I suddenly get a doctor’s note saying the stress is too much for me and that I need to go back to my old job.
Mr. Williams looks at me with the same blue eyes that stared at me out of Mike’s face. Emotions flicker across them quickly. I think I see anger and frustration and a few others that go by too quickly to recognize. Finally I see resignation.
“Okay. I guess we can wait a few minutes.”
I head back down.
“Mike, I just spoke with your dad. He’s waiting up in the office and will come and get you as soon as we’ve had our talk. So you just let me know when you’re ready.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Go get my dad now. You can’t keep me here. Get my dad. Now, bitch!”
“I see you’re not ready. I’ll just wait out here until you are.”
“Now! Get my dad now! You stupid, fucking bitch!”
Two hours and about two hundred “stupid fucking bitches” later, he finally decides it’s time to talk.
Mostly he just ran out of steam. But he sits quietly and pretends to listen to me as I babble away about self-control and first days and other random things, then he walks quietly to the office where his father is still waiting.
Obviously Mike’s father has run out of schools, or I don’t think he would have given in to me.
A very small one.
Chapter 10
Changes
“Donny is coming back today. I got the call last night. I have no idea what condition he’ll be in or how the other guys will react, so just be ready for anything.”
Sean looks up from the work he’s doing on the time-out room. It’s about a week after Mike christened it with a few new cracks in the wall and rips in the carpet. We decided if it’s going to be a room that helps kids calm down, it shouldn’t look like a room where criminals are questioned by large, scary-looking secret agents. Sean found a couple of relatively comfortable chairs that aren’t very throw-able. Right now he’s putting up a couple of posters—high up—that were being recycled from his group home. Trying to make isolation look more homey.
“Okay. We had a pretty good day yesterday, so maybe they’ll come in a good mood.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if it was all that predictable?” I laugh with him. Every morning brings a brand new day here, from what I can see. Not much carryover from one day to the next. How they start their days likely has a lot more to do with what happened between leaving here and coming back than anything else. And I have no idea what that is. I can’t imagine their home lives, even though I’ve tried.
I might get a bit of a window into Mike’s life soon, though. Apparently, there was an incident at home that prompted a neighbor to call Children’s Services. A social worker has paid a visit and is going to come to the school to share a little bit of insight with us. If he’s discovered any, that is. Mike’s parents are pretty convinced that he only “misbehaves” at school and that the neighbor was either overreacting or flat-out lying. Can you say denial?
I head down to the pick-up area. Donny’s cab is coming first, which makes no sense to me at all. He lives the farthest away by a long shot, and he’s going to be arriving a full ten minutes before the other guys. The poor kid has to get his life in order ten minutes earlier to come to school. One change after another. And it’s only just beginning.