Lost at School (23 page)

“I need you to help me with this” were Joey’s first words.

Ms. Lowell placed a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. “Sure, bud. How was school today?”

“Fine. But I need your help with an assignment I didn’t understand. Mrs. Woods said you could help me with it and if you don’t know how she’ll help me when you bring me in early in the morning.”

“When I bring you in early in the morning?” asked Ms. Lowell. What is this, she wondered, another punishment?

“Dr. Bridgman said I could meet with Mrs. Woods sometimes when you bring Jason to school early to work with Mr. Armstrong. So she can explain assignments that I don’t understand. Dr. Bridgman is going to call you to ask you about it.”

“So you didn’t have any problems in school today?”

“No, and I used my signal.”

“Your signal?”

“Yeah, when I’m confused about an assignment, I rub my nose so Mrs. Woods knows I’m confused.” He pointed to some papers on the table. “This is the assignment I got confused on.”

Joey’s mother smiled as she sat down at the kitchen table. “Well, I think I’m the one who’s a little confused. Sounds like you all came up with some interesting ideas at school today.”

“Yeah, and I need you to help me with this assignment.”

“OK, but give me a second,” said Ms. Lowell. “You say Dr. Bridgman’s going to be calling me?”

“But I don’t know when,” said Joey. “I need Mrs. Woods to explain assignments to me if I’m gonna get confused. Are you taking Jason early tomorrow?”

“Yes, Jason goes early every Tuesday and Thursday,” said Ms. Lowell. “You can go early those days, too, if you want. In fact, I’ll take you early
every
day if you want.”

Dr. Bridgman called Joey’s mother around five p.m.

“Hi, Dr. Bridgman,” said Ms. Lowell. “You’re working awfully late, aren’t you?”

Dr. Bridgman sounded tired. “I’m not quite done yet. A few more phone calls to make. But there are a bunch of us still here.”

“Sounds like things went well today,” said Ms. Lowell. “You all came up with a signal, I heard.”

“Yes, so Joey can let Mrs. Woods know he’s confused about an assignment,” confirmed Dr. Bridgman. “He told you about it?”

“Yes, about that and about coming in early…. I guess that’s why you’re calling.”

“Sounds like Joey beat me to the punch. I heard you bring your other son in early sometimes to work with his teacher. Any chance you can bring Joey in early, too?”

“I told Joey I’d bring him in early every day if that’s what he needs.”

“Ah, good. I don’t think he’ll need to come early every day, but I’m glad to hear you can do it. I’d also like to get you in again to meet with Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Franco, just to coordinate efforts.”

“Dr. Bridgman, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to help Joey do well in school. Can you explain to me about the signal? How’s that going to help?”

“Well, we were thinking that if Joey can let Mrs. Woods know he’s confused, we’ll kill a few birds with the same stone. None of us knows just how often he’s getting confused, so that would be good information to have. And the way he’s been letting her know he’s confused up until today hasn’t exactly been working very well. Plus, it’s good for him to know she’s working with him on this problem, you know, together.”

“So you mentioned something about wanting to meet with me again.”

“Right, yes. I want to make sure we get you working with Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Franco. I know it’s hard for you to get off work.”

“Oh, I’ll get off work. I don’t think I have a very good reputation at that school, but just give me some advance notice and I’ll be there. So should I bring Joey in early tomorrow?”

“Yes, that would be great,” said Dr. Bridgman.

“I, uh, hate to keep asking you for reassurance, but my other son, Jason, told me some kids were saying Joey didn’t belong in the school. Are people talking about putting Joey in one of those special ed classrooms?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” said Dr. Bridgman.

“So is Joey going to end up in one of those classrooms?”

“Not if things keep heading in the right direction,” said Dr. Bridgman. “I’ve always found it’s possible for a lot of kids, even kids who are a lot
more challenging than Joey, to stay in their general ed classrooms, if we do the right thing.”

“There are kids who are more challenging than Joey?”

“Well, let’s just say that there are kids who do things that are more extreme when they get upset.”

Mrs. Woods’ husband arrived home from work to find his wife cooking and listening to classical music. “A good day,” he whispered to himself. “Hi, honey,” he said.

“Oh, hi,” said Mrs. Woods.

“Good day at school today?” asked Mr. Woods.

“You know, the usual. My friend Joey’s back.”

“Joey. Oh, you mean the kid who hammered Middleton?”

“He didn’t exactly hammer him. It was an accident.”

“Ah, so it was an
accident.
”

“Well, it
was
an accident,” said Mrs. Woods. “Anyway, our new school psychologist and I had a discussion with Joey this morning and we came up with a plan so Joey won’t blow up anymore and … at least today … the plan worked.”

“There’s always tomorrow.”

Mrs. Woods looked at her husband. “Thanks for your optimism.”

“Realism’s more like it,” said Mr. Woods. “I mean, the kid isn’t going to go from clocking Middleton and threatening to kill someone and making half the school chase after him to being an angel in one conversation.”

“I didn’t say he’d been transformed into an angel. Sorry I brought it up.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry, I’ll be optimistic if you want me to.”

“It’s just that I had a bit of a transformation myself today,” continued Mrs. Woods.

“A transformation?”

“Yes, sort of. I realized that Joey’s not so … unusual. He’s a regular kid with some challenges. He needs special treatment from me just like every other kid in my class. But the special treatment he needs from me isn’t on academics, it’s on other things, things I don’t understand all that well yet.”

Mr. Woods mulled this perspective. “OK, no crime in giving a kid special
treatment if he needs it, I guess. Like if I have a product that isn’t selling very well, I might highlight it in some way, you know, in the front window, or in a special display. Doesn’t mean it’s a bad product, just that it needs a little extra help. Like those new flashlights I was trying to sell. Went like hotcakes once I put ’em over by the front counter. That sort of thing.”

Mrs. Woods appreciated her husband’s attempt to understand her classroom. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Now, I don’t know if flashlights and difficult kids are exactly the same thing,” Mr. Woods continued, thinking about things a bit more. “One’s a good product that just needed a little help, the other’s a bad—”

“Maybe you should quit talking while you’re ahead,” interrupted Mrs. Woods with a smile.

“So how do you know it was your little conversation that did the trick?” asked Mr. Woods. “Maybe it was the five-day suspension. Maybe the message finally got through.”

“Joey’s been suspended before. Lots of times. Never made a dent. Didn’t keep him from blowing up in my class last week. But today, for the first time, I actually felt like I had the beginnings of a … a
relationship
with the poor kid. And I felt like he wasn’t so scary.”

“We’ll see how far your new relationship goes once he’s ticked off about something again. Hope your new relationship keeps
you
from getting the hurt jaw next time.”

“Flashlights don’t need a relationship. But kids do.”

Mr. Woods took slight offense to this statement. “I vaguely recall having been involved in the raising of our kids. Had a relationship with ’em, too, if my memory serves me. But that’s not why they behaved themselves. They behaved themselves because they knew what they had coming if they didn’t.”

“Ah, Plan A,” said Mrs. Woods.

“What?”

“Plan A. It’s when you make a kid do what you want or punish him. Plan A.”

“Whatever you call it, our kids turned out OK.”

“Our kids turned out OK because they had two parents who were willing to take the time to talk to them about things and help them when they had trouble. And isn’t it possible we were just
lucky
that our kids were relatively easy?”

Mr. Woods relented. “I’m glad you had a good day. I hope you have more good days. And I hope you save poor Joey and that he never gives you another problem for the rest of the school year. How’s that?”

Mrs. Woods smiled. “Much better.”

The next day, Mrs. Woods was at her desk poring over her plan for the day when Joey appeared at the doorway for his first early-morning meeting. “Good morning, Joey. How are you today?”

“Fine,” mumbled Joey.

“Come on in …” Mrs. Woods pointed Joey to a chair next to her desk. “How did the science assignment go last night?”

Joey laid the assignment on Mrs. Woods’ desk. “My mom helped me.”

“Oh, fantastic.” Mrs. Woods looked at the assignment. “Looks good. Tell me, what parts did your mom help you with?”

“She explained it to me. She told me it was kinda like a homework assignment you gave us another time. But not exactly.”

“Yes, I recall that we did do something similar for homework in science once. And that made it easier for you to do?”

“Yes,” said Joey. “Once my mom explained that it was a little different.”

It puzzled Mrs. Woods that something so simple was making things so hard for Joey. “You know, Joey, most of the assignments we do in class are similar to others we’ve done before. But they’re all a little different, too. You know, kind of makes things interesting.”

Joey mulled this revelation. “Not for me.”

“Yes, in your case, I think that having things be a little different can be a little confusing, yes?”

“Yes.”

“So, I was thinking … there are three assignments today that I thought might be a little confusing for you. They’re all similar to others we’ve done, but they’re not exactly the same.” Mrs. Woods pulled out one of the assignments she thought Joey would find confusing. “Like here’s this history worksheet. It’s very similar to something we did on slavery a few weeks ago, but it’s not exactly the same. Want to take a look?”

“OK.”

Joey studied the assignment.

“Do you remember the worksheet we did on slavery a few weeks ago?” asked Mrs. Woods.

“No.”

“Let’s look in your history folder and see if we can find it,” suggested Mrs. Woods. She retrieved Joey’s history folder and began leafing through it. “Ah, here it is. You did really well on this assignment, too.” She showed the completed assignment to Joey.

“Oh, yeah. That was easy.”

Mrs. Woods returned to the new assignment. “Well, we’re doing something similar in social studies today. But the matching part is a little different. I thought that might confuse you a little.”

Joey examined the new assignment.

“Would you like to try some of the items?” asked Mrs. Woods.

“OK.”

Mrs. Woods watched Joey doing several of the items. He looked up after a few minutes. “This is easy.”

“Great,” said Mrs. Woods. “Want to see the other things I thought would be confusing?”

“Yeah.”

Mrs. Woods and Joey inspected the other assignments, comparing them to some past assignments and talking about the differences.

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with anything else we’re doing today,” said Mrs. Woods. “Of course, if you do, just give me the signal, or use our plan, like you did yesterday.”

“OK.”

“So, would you like to go join your classmates before they come in?”

“Yes,” said Joey, beginning to head toward the door. He suddenly stopped. “Um, Mrs. Woods?”

“Yes, Joey.”

“I … I think … we made a good plan.”

“I agree.”

“Mrs. Woods?”

“Yes, Joey.”

“Am I going to get put in a special class?”

“A special class? What kind of special class?”

“I don’t know. I heard my mom talking on the phone yesterday. She didn’t know I was listening.”

“Well, I’m not sure what kind of special class she was talking about,” said Mrs. Woods. “But whatever she was talking about, I’m not letting you go so fast. You’re a very important member of our class.”

Mrs. Woods thought she saw a slight look of relief on Joey’s face before he turned toward the door. She called after him, “See you soon.”

That afternoon an argument erupted at recess between two students in Mr. Armstrong’s class. The argument was still unresolved as the students spilled back into the classroom.

“What’s going on here?!” demanded Mr. Armstrong, seeing that the argument was about to turn physical.

“She called me a whore!” shouted a girl named Ashlee. “She’s lucky I didn’t—”

“You are a whore!” retorted the other student, a hard-luck girl named Crystal who was a frequent flyer in the school discipline program. “Take your best shot. I’ll take the life right out of you!”

Mr. Armstrong put his body between the two girls. “Both of you, out in the hall! Now! The rest of you, sit down and get to work!”

Out in the hall, Mr. Armstrong looked at Crystal. “Did you call her a whore?”

“Damn right,” said Crystal.

“Crystal, you better calm yourself down, because you know I don’t take well to swearing,” said Mr. Armstrong. “You need to apologize to Ashlee. Then you need to apologize to me.”

Crystal was indignant. “You don’t even know what happened.”

“I don’t care about what happened right now, Crystal,” said Mr. Armstrong. “‘Whore’ and ‘damn right’ are completely unacceptable. Apologize. Now. To both of us.”

“Bullshit,” muttered Crystal.

Mr. Armstrong had heard enough. “Ashlee, get back in the classroom. Crystal, we’re going to visit Mr. Middleton.”

When they arrived at the office, Mr. Armstrong pointed Crystal toward a chair. “Sit down!” he commanded. He looked at Mrs. Westbrook, the secretary. “Where’s Mr. Middleton?”

“On the phone,” said Mrs. Westbrook. “Shall I let him know you two are here?”

“I need to go back to my class,” said Mr. Armstrong. “Let Mr. Middleton know that Crystal is doing her thing again today. Seems to me she needs to be reminded of what happens when she starts fights,
calls other kids names, and forgets how to talk to her teacher.”