was in there. For now, unless fate intervened, I'd have to rely on him. Hugging my notes to my chest, I walked around the desk and sat facing him again.
Was I being overly suspicious? Weren't my clients entitled to a presumption of goodwill? Increasingly, though, I was being called in when there was already trouble. Maybe that's why I was becoming more like an investigator than a consultant. But I heard Suzanne's voice in my head. "Kid gloves, Thea. Despite the cutting edge population they serve, this is a very genteel business. At least, it thinks it is."
"Todd says that Shondra has a reputation for being difficult." He nodded. "Can you give me some examples of ways in which that has manifested itself?"
I watched him prepare to disagree and didn't let him get there. "I know we both realize one of the most important aspects of handling this, from a PR standpoint, is to emphasize the school's deep concern for Shondra's welfare, not to identify her as a problem student, but as a student with a problem, and to delineate the steps taken to provide her with the best in support and counseling."
I sounded like such a weasel, like we were all conspiring to play a dirty trick on the girl that would derail her credibility and make us look good. But wasn't that why they'd called me? I was glad there wasn't a mirror in sight. I didn't want to see my sharp nose, pointy teeth or bright, beady eyes.
"That's a good way of putting it," he agreed. "We aren't heartless, whatever the girl may think. She's certainly not the first student with problems." He bent over the file, occasionally removing a sheet and marking the place with a yellow sticky. Then he evened up the edges so it was a neat little stack and passed it across the desk. "This ought to give you some idea," he said.
I took my time going through the papers. This was the first glimpse I'd had of how they kept their records and performed student evaluations. It was all very orderly and professional. Every term, along with her grade, each teacher had written evaluations. So had her coaches. Everyone except her basketball coach felt she had problems with authority. Resisted taking direction. Didn't like to ask for help. They all felt she could do better, that she wasn't working up to her ability.
Words like 'quick-tempered,' 'moody,' 'inattentive,' and 'solitary' also appeared, as well as the wish she would cooperate and participate more. The word 'attitude' didn't appear, but it was always there in the subtext. So she didn't exactly play well with others, off the court at least.
Even her basketball coach, who seemed to like her a lot, noted that she was wary and quick to perceive slights. Had it begun with her feeling that she hadn't gotten into St. Matthews on her own merit? If everyone felt she could do better, what had they done to help her along?
Increasingly, despite the unfavorable picture of the girl I was being given, I found myself curious about her side. Whatever the underlying cause of her behavior was, it was important not to lose sight of the fact that she was the child, the student, the one for whom, presumably, this institution existed. Nothing I'd seen made it clear why everyone believed she had done this herself, but I could see why, faced with so many negative messages, she might engage in a defiantly "in your face" attention getting gesture. I could also see why, if she was a victim and the school refused to believe her, she wouldn't take it lying down.
At least she hadn't folded her tent and fled. That was the other way to go—believe the message and become a failure. In the next hour, I would be meeting her. I wondered what it would be like.
"Alasdair MacGregor," I said. "When did she tell you that he was the one who was stalking her? When she went to her advisor with the first picture?"
"No." He gave a vigorous shake of his head and set a broad hand on the closed file, as though reading something through the cover. Or was he holding something in? "No.
Was I being overly suspicious? Weren't my clients entitled to a presumption of goodwill? Increasingly, though, I was being called in when there was already trouble. Maybe that's why I was becoming more like an investigator than a consultant. But I heard Suzanne's voice in my head. "Kid gloves, Thea. Despite the cutting edge population they serve, this is a very genteel business. At least, it thinks it is."
"Todd says that Shondra has a reputation for being difficult." He nodded. "Can you give me some examples of ways in which that has manifested itself?"
I watched him prepare to disagree and didn't let him get there. "I know we both realize one of the most important aspects of handling this, from a PR standpoint, is to emphasize the school's deep concern for Shondra's welfare, not to identify her as a problem student, but as a student with a problem, and to delineate the steps taken to provide her with the best in support and counseling."
I sounded like such a weasel, like we were all conspiring to play a dirty trick on the girl that would derail her credibility and make us look good. But wasn't that why they'd called me? I was glad there wasn't a mirror in sight. I didn't want to see my sharp nose, pointy teeth or bright, beady eyes.
"That's a good way of putting it," he agreed. "We aren't heartless, whatever the girl may think. She's certainly not the first student with problems." He bent over the file, occasionally removing a sheet and marking the place with a yellow sticky. Then he evened up the edges so it was a neat little stack and passed it across the desk. "This ought to give you some idea," he said.
I took my time going through the papers. This was the first glimpse I'd had of how they kept their records and performed student evaluations. It was all very orderly and professional. Every term, along with her grade, each teacher had written evaluations. So had her coaches. Everyone except her basketball coach felt she had problems with authority. Resisted taking direction. Didn't like to ask for help. They all felt she could do better, that she wasn't working up to her ability.
Words like 'quick-tempered,' 'moody,' 'inattentive,' and 'solitary' also appeared, as well as the wish she would cooperate and participate more. The word 'attitude' didn't appear, but it was always there in the subtext. So she didn't exactly play well with others, off the court at least.
Even her basketball coach, who seemed to like her a lot, noted that she was wary and quick to perceive slights. Had it begun with her feeling that she hadn't gotten into St. Matthews on her own merit? If everyone felt she could do better, what had they done to help her along?
Increasingly, despite the unfavorable picture of the girl I was being given, I found myself curious about her side. Whatever the underlying cause of her behavior was, it was important not to lose sight of the fact that she was the child, the student, the one for whom, presumably, this institution existed. Nothing I'd seen made it clear why everyone believed she had done this herself, but I could see why, faced with so many negative messages, she might engage in a defiantly "in your face" attention getting gesture. I could also see why, if she was a victim and the school refused to believe her, she wouldn't take it lying down.
At least she hadn't folded her tent and fled. That was the other way to go—believe the message and become a failure. In the next hour, I would be meeting her. I wondered what it would be like.
"Alasdair MacGregor," I said. "When did she tell you that he was the one who was stalking her? When she went to her advisor with the first picture?"
"No." He gave a vigorous shake of his head and set a broad hand on the closed file, as though reading something through the cover. Or was he holding something in? "No.
Similar Books
