unfocusedmind

The dusty blinds covering the single paned window cast shadowed slits across Sandra Calder’s back. It was late afternoon and the hours of another school day were nearly over. Sandra leaned over the yellow pad of paper in front of her and continued to scribble more words while crossing out others. Notes to parents were always delicate matters, but in this case it seemed a more ominous task.
At thirty-one, Sandra was the youngest principal in her district. The pride she had originally felt with the acceptance of the position had faded slightly, but her ideals had yet to slip. As principal her only concern was the children in her school. After them, everything else could wait.
As her note began to the Calder’s began to take shape Sandra brushed a lock of her shoulder-length, auburn hair out of her face. Normally she kept it back in a pony-tail but she had left her scrunchie at home and couldn’t stand to use a rubber band. She tapped her pencil against the corner of the desk while holding the yellow pad up at eye level to get a different view.
“….Needs to find a way to express herself-” She laughed, crossed out the world herself and replaced it with himself. “…to express himself without the use of physical force.” She paused, slapped the pad back down on the desk and added six words, “or he will face dire repercussions.” It seemed good enough. Sandra had never been completely confident about how her personal tone would go over with different sets of parents. None had ever complained but she always wondered.
The left drawer of her public-school issue teacher’s desk held her office supplies and it was from here that she took an envelope stamped with the school seal. Placing the envelope on top of the desk, Sandra began rewriting the note on school stationary.
The knock came four minutes later as she was folding the note into the envelope. She told whoever it was to “wait one minute”. After placing the envelope back on the desk, she rose from the leather chair and crossed the small office to open the door. Out in the main office, just to the left of her door, sat a small, toe-headed boy wearing a red shirt and tan corduroy pants. Ten-year-old Logan Fernth. Sandra cleared her throat and he slowly looked up at her.
“Logan. Why don’t you come in?” The elderly secretary looked up at the sound of her voice. Sandra smiled at her and received a scowl in return. Ignoring it, she ducked back into her office and closed the door behind her. It was hard for her to hold in a smile as she saw the small boy (smaller than most) with legs dangling from an already diminutive school chair. Sandra made her way around her desk and sat back down on the large leather chair. There had to be a game plan this time, Logan had been in her office more and more in recent months and it was now time to nip the problem in the bud. The note was going to happen no matter how the meeting went, but she would save it for the end anyway just to drive the message home.
“So Logan. Why are we here today?” He was looking down at his lap and even as Sandra spoke there was very little reaction. “Logan? I need you to talk to me. You’ve visited me way too many times for you to just sit there and not speak up for your actions.” Logan looked up at her but still refused to say anything. Sandra wasn’t happy with the way this conversation was going. She leaned back, crossed her arms and tried to rethink her stance. For his part, Logan just sat blinking as the sun and blinds scored lines across his face. Sandra knew that being his friend wouldn’t work because that would make it seem like she wasn’t terribly concerned about his problems. She also couldn’t yell at him because kids like Logan tended to shut down completely when confronted head on. She looked at his innocent face and noted that simply calling him into her office had silenced him. Lord knew what a yelling match would do. Plus, as an educator it was her job to find the way that worked not the way that seemed easiest.
A sound interrupted her thoughts. Sandra had zoned out and now looked around until her eyes focused on the last thing she thought would be making noise.
“What did you say Logan?”
“I said it wasn’t my fault.” His legs were now swinging back and forth under the chair. His eyes had become angry slits and there was no longer a sense of profound innocence about him. Now he was just a scary little boy.
“That’s not what Ms. Gavett said. She told me that you were the one who threw the rock at Ricky. True?” Logan’s eyes widened slightly.
“It’s not true! Ricky started everything! He lied about it too. They were all just scared because of the blood. But he started it!”
“Why? Did he call you a name? Did he throw a rock? How did he hurt you first, Logan?” She leaned forward, arms crossed on the desk.
“He called me a name.” The room crackled with his anger.
“What name?”
“He… I’m not allowed to say it.” His anger was suddenly replaced with worry. Sandra scratched her head, caricaturing her thoughts to make Logan feel a little more at ease than he was.
“How about this Logan, you can say whatever it was one time here in this office and I wont tell anyone. But you can’t use the word after that. Alright?” Logan looked at her suspiciously.
“Promise?” He asked.
“I’ll pinky swear to it.” She stretched her arm across the desk towards the small boy and closed her first except for her pinky finger. For a moment Logan looked at the finger as if he’d never seen one before but eventually reached forward and grabbed her small finger with his own. Sandra smiled and brought her arm back. “Good, so what did Ricky call you, Logan?” Still looking awkward but at the same time relieved, Logan responded.
“Assface.” He finally responded.
“He called you that?” Again, she stifled a smile.
“Yes.” Logan hung his head in what appeared to be shame.
“Any idea why?” Sandra made a few notes and then put the disposable pen back down.
“No. He just doesn’t like me. But I don’t care because I hate him back!” The mood swings that Logan seemed to be going through were astounding. Sandra made it a point to know all the kids under her control and this was the first time she had ever seen this kind of anger emanating from a ten-year-old.
“I know you hate him, Logan. But do you think he deserved to be hit with a rock?”
“Yes.” The response had less confidence than the previous.
“Well, I have to disagree with you on that one. I don’t think anyone deserves to be hurt the way you did to Ricky. Everyone gets called names sometimes but the right thing to do is tell your teacher, not hurt the other person. Not only is it wrong but it is against my rules at this school. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.” The answers now coming in a completely resigned voice.
“I don’t think you do. Logan, your behavior has become more and more troubling over the course of the past few months. I’m running out of ideas. So, because of that I think your parents should come in so I can speak with them in person.” The immediate reaction to cross Logan’s face was not unexpected. His eyes widened completely and began welling up. His small hands gripped the seat of the chair and both legs stopped swinging. The shock treatment worked every time. Rather than acknowledge it, Sandra decided to continue to the note. “Because of the severity of your situation I am sending home this note,” she held up the envelope, “which I expect them to be given tonight. It tells them to call me in the next few days. If I don’t get a call from one of your parents, Logan, then I will be calling them. So make sure they get the note, alright?” Logan now looked much older than his ten years. The lines that now crossed his face were of worry and no longer from the sun. He took the note with his left hand and stared at Sandra, unbelieving. It just might be possible that she’d finally found a way through. Idle threats weren’t her cup of tea, Sandra preferred direct actual threats. Don’t make them unless you can back them up. That was the way she saw it.
“I…” Logan wanted to say something but it was obvious that the words just didn’t exist for him at the moment. Sandra decided to do the talking for him.
“Logan, I expect a call from your parents. Go back to class. There is only forty-five minutes left today. Try to stay out of trouble.”

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Vixen

I like your view ponit character, it's good to see a change of main character. The principal is likeable, for once. Have you ever read The 50 Minute Hour, or any such books written by pyhcotherapists about interaction with thier patients. I find such books fascinating. Do you intend to go the same way with this book (only following principal-student relations) or is there an undelying fiction plot?

unfocusedmind

The book actually centers around the boy. To be honest, I would love to to a book with a Principal or Therapist P.O.V. but have yet to find the right storyline fit. I have read some case studies and other such real-life therapy type books and find them fascinating.

But this book. This book is called "Thus Abel Cowered" and centers around the young boy in this chapter who is being abused by his older brother. the points of view I switch through are Principal, therapist, father, and in some cases the boy himself. I basically try and show how it can sometimes be amazingly hard for professionals to determine whats going on with a child to make them act out. The underlying "catchphrase" if there were one would probably be "will anyone figure it out in time?"

Thanks for the comments.

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check out Melee Books! my offshoot website for my very small productions company. www.geocities.com/meleebooks

Kaven

This seems like something that could be very interesting! It is clearly written, and the little boy comes across quite vividly. The following comments are only meant to be constructive:


The word 'slits' seems like quite violent imagery, in what is otherwise a peacful and quite scene.


Somehow this description seems a bit forced? A bit 'Role Playing' standard if you know what I mean. The rest of the descriptive work is subtle and nicely done.


Is this set in the modern day? If so she'd be using a computer to write letters?

I have to admit I felt a bit sorry for the boy at the end. The principle acts nicely, and gains his trust, makes him a promise, and makes him feel secure ... only to punish him two seconds after he owns up and is honest with her! Aw poor kid.

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Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.

unfocusedmind

Hey, thanks for the notes on the chapter. I really appreciate the input. I must say that you are right on the money with all of them, and I am actually making the corrections right after I finish writing this.

oh, and about feeling sorry for the kid. The rest of the book is basically about people thinking they're doing good stuff to help him out with his "behavioural issues" but wind up just doing things that arent going to help him at all. Its basically missplaced concern. I may post another chapter if people are interested enough.

again, thanks!

-Lee

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Kaven

I had the feeling it may have been on purpose, well done with that! I find it quite interesting, I work with people who deal with ''problem kids'', and it's very interesting seeing how they are treated by others, by schools and things, who just don't seem to get it at all. So yes, i'd be interested to read more. Keep going with it, it's shaping up to be something intriguing, and original too.

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Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.

unfocusedmind

This is the second chapter from "Thus Abel Cowered". I just reread it and I think there are a lot of technical changes that need to take place, but I'm sure you get the idea.

Logan stood outside Annex Elementary with his Batman backpack on and stared at the empty parking lot. All the buses had left no more than three minutes before but it seemed like they had been gone for years. He had been having trouble with his locker for a few days and today it wouldn’t open at all, so he had been late for the bus. There was nothing he could really do about it, so he began the mile-or-so hike home.
Considering that it was early spring, the weather was a bit colder than usual. None of the birds had returned from warmer climates and most people were still at work. The only noise in the strangely silent afternoon was the squeak of Logan’s new sneakers on the pavement as he plodded slowly home. It was a tough hike for a smaller than average ten-year-old but one that Logan had made on previous occasions. There were plenty of times when he knew that Andy would be home and so he delayed the inevitable by purposely missing the bus. That strategy only bought him a little time however, and it just made Andy angry, no matter what the excuse.
Logan knew these incidents involving the other kids were not directly his fault. But what could he possibly say to anybody that would not get him into major amounts of trouble later on. Andy had said that he would find out if Logan told anybody. Andy also told Logan that if he did feel like telling, he should think about how mom and dad would react. He knew how to talk to their parents, he knew what buttons to push that could make them feel certain ways. This was why Andy scared Logan, and this was why Logan had to do whatever Andy said.
A gust of wind pushed Logan from behind as he made his way down River Way. It was a winding road that, regardless of his name, followed the banks of Lake Pemagansett. The Elementary school was directly across the street from the lake but Logan’s house wasn’t near any water at all. He lived on Granite Street, which was near Boulder park. Everything in his neighborhood was named after rocks. The streets were named Granite, Quartz, Obsidian, and some others that Logan could never remember. He found it funny that someone would want to name a whole neighborhood after rocks.
As he rounded the corner from River Way onto Benchmark Road he automatically looked both ways even though he wasn’t crossing the street. Logan turned left and continued on his walk. The only thing that could make the day any worse would be if Andy were home. Regardless of the occasional chill breezes, the sun was now beating down on Logan’s back and he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to cool down. It didn’t really help. Benchmark was a much busier street than River Way and Logan had to be careful not to walk too close to the road as the minivans and station wagons zipped past on their way to wherever. Logan stuffed his hands into his pockets and felt the envelope in the left. It felt warm and he wanted to just throw it away or give it to Andy. When all the trouble had started at school Andy had been there to get rid of everything. But lately he had been telling Logan that he still had all the notes hidden somewhere and that if Logan told on him he would show the notes to their parents.
That was the scariest thing for Logan. Andy seemed to know his every move before he made them. If Logan was thinking about going to their parents, Andy always knew somehow and would come in and threaten him until he promised not to. It had gotten to be so commonplace for Andy to just barge in that Logan was starting to think that Andy could read minds. He was like a tiger lying in wait until its prey sticks its head out. That’s when the tiger pounces. The prey never knows what hit it, and it never had a chance. At this moment Logan was most definitely feeling like prey. The tiger was out there somewhere and when it saw this note in particular, it was going to pounce.
Andy had been able to get rid of the previous notes from Logan’s teachers with no problem, but this one needed to get to his parents. Principal Calder said she would call if she didn’t hear back and that meant there was no way to get out of trouble. He held the envelope tightly, thinking as hard as he could about what he should do. But he couldn’t think of anything. The only thing he could think of was how mad everyone was going to be at him once they read the note. He was scared and as he reached his neighborhood the feelings of dread seemed to escalate even more. Logan knew it wasn’t going to be an easy night.

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check out Melee Books! my offshoot website for my very small productions company. www.geocities.com/meleebooks