Page 4 of Off the Charts
Shai’s eyes moved in a wide circle, while her index finger tapped her chin. “Nope. Sometimes my brother be taking my phone and hiding it and mama always takes his side, so yes! My brother makes me feel yucky.”
I chuckled. “If it helps you feel better Shai, my sister makes me feel yucky too.”
She laughed and fired off a hundred questions about my sister. Shai showed no signs of physical or mental abuse and while there were several levels to neglect, I only checked the emotional neglect box off then signed off saying CPS was not needed in her home at this time. That could change any day or during any session though. When I glanced at my watch, I saw that we had less than five minutes left before our session ended so I wrapped it up.
Figuring I’ll finish the last of my notes later, I escorted Shai back to her class in the sixth-grade hallway.
“Mr. Denver!” The class cheered.
I offered hugs and daps to the ones that got out of their seats and head nods for everyone else. I bumped fists with Shai making sure she was settled before turning to leave, but I didn’t move fast enough because Miss Adams followed me out the door.
“You look nice today, Mr. Denver,” her eyes roamed my body as she bit the corner of her lip.
Ria Adams was fine as fuck, slim with perky titties, a pretty face, not much ass, but it was hers and I loved anything natural on a black woman. My life consisted of staying the fuck out the way and keeping people at a distance, so mixing business with pleasure was surely off the table. Ria was young and…outsideas the new generation calls it. Plus, I heard she fucked Mr. Peters old bitching ass so that knocked off brownie points she never had. There was a lot of shit I didn’t like and a friendly bitch with community pussy was high on the list.
I looked down at my black-on-black slacks and button up and shrugged. “Hm. ‘Preciate you. Have a goo?—"
“You got any plans for the summer?” She twirled her hair around her finger.
I looked down at her. “Work. Chill. I’m not interested in anything else.”
“By anything else, do you mean fun or me?”
My eyes moved from her lipstick covered teeth to her eyes. “Both. I’ll holler at you.”
With that, I walked away hoping that would get her to leave me alone, but I knew it wouldn’t. It was sad to say, but she wasn’t the only one throwing pussy at me throughout these school walls. I was dodging the shit so much, these niggas probably thought I either played for the other team or was a weirdo. It was neither, and even if they did, I didn’t give a fuck. The students had enough access to my mind and those were the only connections I was interested in watering right now. With the exclusion of about five people here, I was good with keeping everyone else at bay.
I received a full ride scholarship to Harvest Hills University, so I relocated here about a month after high school. A year after graduating college, I opened my own psychology practice thinking that was my dream until I lived it. With my life at the time, I was unable to find a healthy balance and set boundaries. Instead of counseling being a passion, it became a second household that I had to manage. My clients were comfortable enough to call me after-hours, and I would run to them every fucking time. That shit left one house unattended while I was building the next. On the flip side of that, I would have weeks where I would take off to make sure my home life was good, but that shit would cause me to lose clients. I couldn’t win for losing, so I started my job hunt from scratch.
Harvest Hills was small, so it wasn’t like I had a variety of options. The first position to populate was a counselor for K-8th at Sweet Pea Academy. From the second I stepped into the school,i it swaddled me with open arms, and I’ve stayed in its embrace for almost eight years. Although there were tough days that made me question if counseling was for me, I knew in my heart that it was my God given purpose.
Being on staff here, I’d seen students and staff in and out due to growth, both good and bad. People often say that children are messy, but when you have grown adults with no life, the childish parts of them quickly become visible. If you weren’t careful in these halls, you could find yourself in some shit. Sometimes the shit got so wild, I felt like I was on one of them shows where the cast members are at a villa fighting and fucking. SPA had principals fake loving and fucking, art teachers cosplaying in Mea Culpa, a librarian utilizing books and all her holes, a resource officer groveling like Jodeci in the desert, and chemistry brewing between science teachers that caused more than explosions. I knew most of that through the mouth of gossiping ass Miss Justice Brown. To me, they were too invested. I did my job and got the fuck on.
Upon making it back to my office, I dimmed the lights then watered my plants. I kept my office cozy and neutral with a eucalyptus scent that seemed to create a calm atmosphere. I didn’t bother to enable my soundproof feature because my next session wasn’t until this evening. After disinfecting my space, I went over to my record player and lowered the needle onto the classic albumRaptureby Anita Baker and allowed the sounds to fill the air.
Wednesdays were my light days. Unless it was an emergency, I only saw one to three students and spent the rest of my time working on academic planning for seventh and eighth graders. Ifthere were any lingering callbacks, I would knock those out too, but I was all caught up there, so I finished charting.
Every child in therapy wasn’t bad nor were they crazy. Shai was the perfect example. Her issue was that she was going to say what was on her mind and it wasn’t always the message, most of the time it was the delivery which landed her in the principal’s office or with her fist in someone’s jaw.
Suspension didn’t always fix shit. Sometimes, these kids needed someone to vent to outside of their friends who hadn’t lived life long enough to tell them real truths. In Shai’s case, the people in her life are too caught up in their own world that hers isn’t interesting to them. I’d seen bad coming up and through the halls of Sweet Pea Academy, but she was misunderstood.
Voicing your opinion can be labeled as disrespect, when it’s really a lack of relationship on the parent’s behalf. A child should be able to sit their parents down and tell them how they are feeling without being dismissed. Mental health doesn’t have an age, neither does depression or the feeling of being in the dark. Most lights are dimmed as a child, and they stay in that dark corner forever wondering why the fuck they can’t find happiness. The truth is, it started at home when you told your mama you weren’t comfortable with something or someone and her response was to stay out of grown people’s business. Since then, you’ve kept your feelings bottled up feeling like nobody around you would be interested in hearing you out.
I understood it, because that was my life for so long. Counseling revealed how much of myself I saw in these students. Growing up, we had a counselor’s office, with no counselor. We didn’t have half the resources this generation does. Our options as black people, specifically black men, was to suck that shit up and move the hell on and that was why we sometimes tend to channel our emotions in unacceptable ways. No one taught us what to do when we were angry or overwhelmed without gettingour asses beat or beating someone else’s until there was relief. If I was told to count how many times my anger led me to fights or trouble, I would run out of fingers, toes, and body parts. Not seeking help was a vicious cycle that I tend to break, one child at a time. My job will always be to pull up a root before it dies and get it back into the sunlight because it’s never too late to bloom.
Now, I’m not saying all these little niggas were justified in their wrongdoing, because a good amount of them just needed a good belt to ass session. What I am saying is that it is important to teach kids that it is okay to be expressive. Drama aside, the staff here at Sweet Pea Academy was amazing and that was why we were ranked the best Academy in the region. These kids were truly the hearts of our vision.
As I was closing out the tabs on my laptop, there was a great deal of commotion outside my door before heavy fist pounding echoed. It took me seconds to get there and the second I opened it, Shawn stormed in holding the arm of a young boy I’d seen around before. His chest was heaving up and down and tears streamed down his face. Shutting the door behind him, I immediately grabbed a box of tissues and an ice pack, but when I got closer to the kid, I didn’t see where he needed it. He took the tissues without looking at me.
Placing both hands on his shoulders, I lowered my head to meet him at eyelevel. He did everything in his power not to look at me, but the tears flowed harder.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I want you to breathe. You’re safe here, okay?” It took a few seconds, but he quickly nodded. “Go have a seat. I will be there in a second. Okay?”
The kid nodded again, using his shirt to wipe his face. I made sure he was comfortable before following Shawn to the corner of my office so we could be out of earshot. To everyone else, he was Officer Cooley, the school resource officer, but to me he wasShawn, my little brother and one of the few people I fucked with in and outside of SPA.
“The fuck happened?”
“That sixth grader Ryan was fucking with him. Said something that set him off,” he shrugged. “No one even knew he’d been bothering him. Zion is a good kid, barely even talks. I didn’t want him getting in trouble, so I brought him to you,” Shawn whispered.
