Page 12 of Ruthless

He shrugged. “I guess it would be for the same reasons the FBI records the books we check out from the library. I saw that on the news, that they forced the librarians to give them the information and said they’d go to jail if they told anyone. Maybe they did the same to you.”

She blanched. That was the kind of thing that fed the paranoia of people worried about government control, and there was just enough truth in the story to make his claim a little nerve-wracking. And once she turned in her reports, they were out of her control. For all she knew, all the records she kept on her students were passed along to the government. Some certainly were. She could understand why a twelve-year-old might mistrust a system that did that.

“The only file I have on you records nothing but your attendance and grades on your work, and a few notes that I make for times when you might have a substitute teacher.”

“What kind of notes?” His dark look told her that her answer would be reported to his father.

“I write notes about the students that might be helpful to a teacher. They list things such as the fact that you are a good reader, and like to read, or that you can need extra help with new math ideas, but once you get them, you are fine. For some students, it might say that they pass notes or talk in class if they aren’t cautioned. Things like that.”

“Can I see my file?” The question was soft, but it sounded important.

“Not right now. It’s kept in the office. I can get it tomorrow if you’re that interested.”

“So other people can see it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“My dad says that you teachers, all the government people, collect information on us, even the little things that seem unimportant, and put it in computer databases.”

“Of course, some of it is. The state needs to have information to do their job. They need to know how many students we have and if they’re attending classes. They want to check their grades to see if we’re teaching them properly. They need to know who you are and what your grades are. The system uses the information to improve things. There are reasons for giving them the information.”

Jimmy’s face wrinkled into a scowl. “That’s exactly what he said. My dad.”

“Which part?”

“The last part—that there are always reasons that sound good, even logical. But they keep wanting to know new things about us, and sometimes they aren’t things we want them to know, even if we have nothing to hide. Why would they bully us, force us to give them information if it wasn’t to control people?”

“I don’t know about controlling people, but sometimes the reasons really are very good ones. Think about this, as an example: In a few years you’ll want to get a driver’s license. You’ll have to show a birth certificate to do that because the state has a law that says you must be a certain age to get one, and that’s how they make sure we don’t have ten-year-olds driving cars. Things like that.”

“That’s what they say, but what if they only insist you get a license so they can collect more information?”

“I suppose that is one reason, but collecting information isn’t always for bad reasons. And there are good reasons to license people—for one thing, they need to make sure you know the rules; everyone needs to know the rules.”

“So they give you a test?”

“Sure.”

He laughed. “So if you can pass the test, why do they need to know anything else about you? You could walk in, take the test, and if you pass, they hand you a license.”

She laughed. “That’s a good question, but I’m not a lawyer, Jimmy. I don’t really know. What I do know is that something has you upset. What is it your father said or did to change your mind about talking to me?”

“Nothing.” He looked at his book bag. “I should go. He said I could explain to you, tell you that we wouldn’t be discussing the books or ideas, but then I was to go home.”

“He really said not to talk about his theories or ideas with me?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yes.”

“Did he say why?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you why, though.” He grabbed up his bag and headed for the door, then stopped. “I’d tell you, but I promised I wouldn’t say.”

“I understand. You need to do what your father tells you.”

He smiled in relief and then went out the door.

As he left, she hoped she wasn’t losing him. The boy had potential, but he needed to interact with her for her to stand a chance of exciting him about learning. Even if his father had the best of intentions, his paranoia, his concern that she was controlling Jimmy, that school was poisoning his mind, made it impossible for him to succeed in the world. She wondered what she could do to work around that seemingly insurmountable barrier. There had to be some way.

With her cleverplan in shambles, Tessa continued to worry about Jimmy, about keeping him connected with the class. If he stayed clammed up and not participating, it was only a matter of time before his schoolwork suffered, not to mention he was approaching his teen years, when social pressures could be immense. He needed to learn to interact with the others.

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