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* * *
Three weeks before school opened, she met with the faculty and was shown her office. It was near the main entrance, two doors down from the principal. The proximity made her wonder how many kids would go from one office to the next, hers being the “next.” She was aware she would be vetting behavioral issues such as bullying and fighting, as well as poor academic performance. Gone were the days of simply telling a student they “weren’t living up to their potential.” Nowadays, mining for that potential was the first step. Too many children were anxious, sometimes picking up their parents’ concerns. Yes, anxiety was a major epidemic, and for a lot of good reasons. Melanie’s job was to help assuage those tensions and help give the children a sense of their own identity. It was a tough nut to crack, but she was up to the task.
* * *
During the few weeks before classes started, Melanie read through the files that were designated as a priority. She knew that meant there was a problem. She divided the piles into personality issues, academic issues, and one for crazy parents. To avoid lawsuits, the files weren’t marked that way, but the teachers and administrators had their own color-coding system.
At the beginning of the new school year, some of the children were happy to be back, and some, not so much. It was easy to spot them. One girl, around eight years old, came in with whiskers drawn on her face. When Melanie said, “Good morning,” the child responded with a meow. Kids identifying with animals were called “Furries.” She hoped there wasn’t a litter of them. She also wondered if one of her parents had helped paint the child’s face.
She thought back to when she was eight. She’d been holed up in a cast, reading books and working on puzzles. Again, she asked herself, How did we get here? Social media was certainly one way people were being influenced. She thought a “National Unplug Day” would be beneficial, but it would never happen. Social media was as addictive as drugs and alcohol. It was the new addiction. She shook away her concerns and put on a happy face. Kids were about to enter the school.
She stood outside her office door. “Good morning, everyone. Slow down, please. Mind your manners. Be polite.”
The bell rang for classes to begin, and the halls went quiet. They were hardly into the new school year and already Melanie had to meet with one of the students’ parents. His name was Jerome. Jerome was seven years old. For the past week, he had entered the boys’ bathroom each morning and changed into a dress. He seemed perfectly comfortable and acted as if it were normal. Most of Jerome’s classmates didn’t care one way or another. But all it took was one nasty tormenter who thought it would be fun to give Jerome a wedgie and hit him in the face. The kid joked he was giving Jerome “eye shadow.” That kid got suspended, and Jerome removed his “costume” before he went home.
The problem intensified when Jerome’s parents stormed through the door and demanded to know how their son got a black eye. They were already talking about suing the school before they sat down in Melanie’s office.
Melanie suspected Jerome’s parents didn’t know about his interest in female fashion. “He was being teased by one of the other students, who gave him the black eye.” She intentionally avoided the cause of the incident, hoping they would surmise why it had happened. But deep inside, she didn’t think they had a clue.
“Being teased about what?” Mr. Walker’s voice was gaining volume.
It was now Melanie’s turn to inform them of the circumstances. Slowly. “He changed his clothes before and after class.”
The father was outraged. “What are you talking about? Changing into what clothes? I see him leave in the morning. He’s dressed just fine. I don’t understand any of this.” The man was rattled. Melanie could tell he was flummoxed, and imagined a number of thoughts were now running through his head.
The mother had a sheepish look on her face, indicating she might have an inkling of her son’s masquerade. The father turned to his wife. “Do you know what this is all about?” His voice was reverberating off the walls.
“Mr. Walker, please keep your voice down.” Melanie spoke in a composed manner. Just weeks into the job and already a crisis. Yippee.
“Where is he?” Mr. Walker bellowed.
“He’s in class.”
“Get him in here right now!” He shouted. “I want to know what in blazes is going on around here!”
Melanie knew this was going to be tricky. Was she supposed to warn Jerome to change his clothes? It was a turning point—she had to choose sides. School policy was that teachers, counselors, and anyone associated with school administration were not allowed to discuss the subject of gender with parents. Policy on discussing “furry” identities was still up in the air. The students’ schooltime secrets were to be kept inside the hallowed halls of the educational system. The only thing the staff was allowed to discuss was disruptive, rule-breaking behavior, or grades.
The developmental process was no longer a homogenous undertaking. Life had become compartmentalized. There was a lack of shared communication. Hidden agendas abounded. No wonder the world is such a mess. Melanie forced herself to turn the channel in her head. Look for the opportunities in the situation. It dawned on her that school wasn’t very different from her previous career. Everything was a careful balancing act to achieve the best outcome.
“Let me call his teacher.” Melanie picked up the interoffice phone and asked to be connected to Jerome’s teacher.
“Hi. It’s Melanie Drake. Jerome Walker’s parents are in my office. They want to see him.” She listened. “Yes.” She was listening to the teacher tell her Jerome was wearing a dress.
“Should I tell him to change his clothes?” the teacher asked.
Melanie tried to couch her response diplomatically. “No. Just tell him they’re here.” She would let Jerome decide. Wow. That was a lot to put on a kid, but it was going to be an issue at some point. Might as well rip the bandage off now.
Mr. Walker stood and paced. “What’s taking so long?”
Melanie checked her watch. It hadn’t been ten minutes. She didn’t answer him. She heard footsteps coming toward her door and held her breath. A gentle knock. “Come in.”
And there he was. Jerome was dressed in a lovely pink ensemble. She had to give him credit. He was perfectly accessorized. The kid might have a future in the fashion industry.
Mr. Walker roared. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Mrs. Walker stood and got between them.
“Answer me!” he shouted.
