Mary approached the office and found a woman near the sa age, yet she looked exhausted with hair falling out of her tight bun. Mary knocked on the open door to get her attention. "Hello, I’m Mary Atkins. Are you Principal Lambert?"
The haggard woman looked up from her stack of paperwork and tried to focus on Mary. "Mary Atkins? Oh. Right. The foster mom." Mary felt a sting in her chest, but brushed it off. "Just take a seat anywhere you like."
Although the principal said ’anywhere’, there was only one available seat that didn’t have papers or any type of clutter on it. Mary chose the one clean seat and the principal started pushing papers aside so they could keep eye contact over the desk.
"I’ll be frank with you, Mrs. Atkins." The Principal looked at her, exhibiting pure exhaustion. "I didn’t know Jake Hollander personally. The only reason I could recall the na is because we keep records of when, why, and for who we call child services for. I’ve spoken with his teachers and not one had a personal relationship with him. He’s just another student in the crowd of kids that attend this institution."
Mary was stunned. "Excuse ? How can you say that about a forr student?" Her anger was on the brink of flaring up and lashing out.
"Easy." She gestured at the stacks of paper on her desk. "We’re overworked. Underpaid. Understaffed. The student to teacher ratio is a whopping 35 to 1, in a good year. Which is astoundingly bad for an elentary school, but what can I do? The state doesn’t give underperforming schools a whole lot of money to work with which makes our scores get even worse. We’re lucky if we can just move our students up to the middle school. I really hate seeing our dropout rate compared to the state and national average."
Mary didn’t know what to say. On one hand, she was upset that a young Jake could just be referred to as another number but on the other, she could tell that this principal was at her wits end. "Have you thought about applying to grants for underprivileged schools?"
She gestured at one particular stack of papers. "I spend most of my ti filling them out and sending them off. If I could get an actual receptionist who cares for her job, that would lessen my load. But who wants to work with a failing school for little pay?" She sighed. "Sorry for ranting. I’m just tired." She turned to the desk behind her and grabbed a manila envelope. She turned back and handed it to Mary. "This is what I could gather and scrounge up for you."
Mary took it, amazed that the disheveled woman had put sothing together even though she seed to be drowning in work.
"It’s not much so don’t get your hopes up." Principal Lambert spoke bluntly. "Most of it, is the report that had to be made when we called child services. The result listed that there was a ho visit, but the findings stated that the child wasn’t at an imminent risk for death or serious injury."
"What?!" Mary exploded out of her seat. "How did they co to that conclusion?? Do they know how wrong they were??"
"Mrs. Atkins." Principal Lambert sighed. "I’m not the social worker assigned to the case. I just have the report that was made by the teacher and the answer child services gave to us. As for the rest of the information I included, I had his forr teachers write out statents of what they rember of him. Fair warning, most have told that he wasn’t very personable and shied away from making friends. None of them could na a specific friend or classmate that he was close to."
Mary let out a heavy sigh. An empty avenue. Only more depressing details on his childhood. Right now she just wanted to go ho and hold him in a bear hug, but that would never happen. He didn’t like to be touch, to be surrounded, or even won that were around his mother’s age. She should just be grateful that he was willing to speak a little more each day.
She slowly stood up and forced a smile for pleasantries sake. "Thank you for your ti, Principal Lambert. I really appreciate the effort you put in even though it wasn’t legally required of you." She glanced at the grant application stack. "If you ever need any help with a recomndation or personal statent for the applications, please reach out to ." She pulled out a business card and handed it over.
Principal Lambert showed a sardonic smile at the card. "A real estate agent won’t be too valuable, but thanks for the offer."
Mary stood tall. "I’m not just a real estate agent. I’m a mother. A foster mother. A concerned parent. Soone who believes that kids need opportunities to grow and learn. They need a clean and stable environnt filled with safety." She headed for the door. "Just send an email and I’ll reply in a day or two. We have to do our best to ensure our kids have a happy future, right?"
"Right..." Principal Lambert watched the woman walk out of her office. A foster parent who ca hundreds of miles just to ask about the boys past. She wanted to do more to help, really, she did. She glanced around at her ssy desk and office. She did all she could. There were too many students that needed her help. She sighed and got back to work.
Mary walked to her car and checked the ti. Still early afternoon. She could still make it to the middle school before they closed for the day.
She placed the envelope of information on her passenger seat, intending to look it over back at the hotel. She was first upset with the principal’s attitude to Jake, but she understood where the lady was coming from. She had to worry about the masses first, and not one specific student. Jake probably wouldn’t be the only one there with an abusive parent. It’s just too bad that Jake has to almost die to get free. If only...if only he had soone to protect him earlier. She held back tears as she drove.
The middle school was less than three miles away and she arrived just as they were getting out, unfortunately. It took her so ti to find parking, make her way to the office, and then wait in a line of students and parents that also needed to speak with the front office.
"Yes? How can I help you?" The receptionist here was a lot more welcoming than the one at the elentary school. She looked and acted like a professional.
Mary let out a relieve smile. "Hi. I’m Mary Atkins. Here to see an advisor nad Henry Conley? Is he still in?"
The receptionist picked up the landline and dialed a couple of digits. "Hello, I have soone nad Mary Atkins for Mr. Conley. Is he available?" A pause. "Great. I’ll send her back." She hung up and looked up at Mary. "He’s in. I’ll take you on back real quick." She stood up, rounded the desk and showed Mary the way.
Unlike at the elentary school, the middle school’s front office wasn’t as empty or desolate. Every office was lit up, filled with employees working with students and parents alike. Mary nodded to herself in satisfaction. This is what a school should be like.
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