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þÿWords

Carol Murphy

<center><I>A word is a microcosm of the human consciousness.&#8221;</I> Lev Vygotsky</center>

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;After the youngest Segreti child entered first grade, it became painfully evident that someone in the faculty should have intervened with all the siblings sooner. To be fair, at first the teachers did repeatedly exchange feelings of remorse and responsibility because the problems seemed to begin at their little parochial school, one that prided itself on a love for the whole child, meaning of course, not just academics. Yet children&#8217;s difficulties rarely begin in school. Usually they start at home.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The oldest Segreti child, named Marco, was tall, rugged, athletic, and smart. He stood out because of all these qualities, but over and above every positive attribute, he was unusually tenderhearted. Marco might be found on the playground helping a younger student in a game or thoughtfully inserting his large frame between squabbling children to calm things down if the adults were busy. That kindness showed up too with his smile. Everyone was drawn to that smile and would be his whole life.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;However, there was a gloomy reason Marco stood out. He stuttered so badly that his teachers never made him speak or read aloud in class, and they would quietly come to his desk if he raised his hand with a question. They also whispered to each other about what to do. After all, he had been in speech therapy for some time, but the teachers sadly agreed there really hadn&#8217;t been any progress. Troubled, they asked their new principal, the Mother Superior of the convent next door, to speak with Marco and make some suggestions. Marco&#8217;s bumbling syllables, eye blinks, and words that were trapped in his throat were pitiful. Five minutes after entering her office, Marco made a final effort to talk, using his fist to pound a table to get a sentence out, but his facial muscles contorted into a grimace. Heartbreakingly alarmed, Sister went immediately to the Bishop for advice, but all he could offer was that he once knew a priest who stuttered but that fellow had gone into a silent monastery.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; he surmised, &#8220;There was some occupation God would lead Marco to that required little talking.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mother Superior frowned and made a mental memo to research stuttering further. But as the days were full of other timely tasks, soon the seriousness of Marco&#8217;s difficult speech patterns faded. The teachers, waited patiently for some helpful word, but they too had many responsibilities.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A few weeks went by.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Two years younger and in fourth grade, the second Segreti child, a girl named Mara, was just as beautiful as Marco was handsome, and at first glance she seemed flawless. She obtained high grades, spoke confidently when giving presentations, and had a lovely group of friends. Everyone had espoused her quiet gracefulness.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But then, within the same school year that her older brother&#8217;s speech was seemingly getting worse, her good student skills seemed to shatter. Mara became unable to comprehend much of the required literature and began failing reading tests, even though she claimed she studied &#8220;really hard&#8221; with her mother, who happened to be the head of the linguistics department at a nearby university. Mara&#8217;s daily writing assignments often came back with red marks all over them with consequential grades that scared her silly. Never before had she received anything other than A&#8217;s and B&#8217;s. One day she sobbed and ran out of the room during a grammar lesson when she received a paper back with a D. Her parents were called for a conference immediately, but they could only express complete bewilderment.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Last year she was getting all A&#8217;s!&#8221; her mother exclaimed. &#8220;We just don&#8217;t understand.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Neither did the teacher.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Then the youngest Segreti child, Mario, entered the school after having been in a combination preschool-kindergarten closer to home. At 6, he was blond, plump and about as cute as any child in first grade could be. His picture had even been used for a poster ad that hung in an exclusive photographer&#8217;s studio a few blocks away.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But Mario barely spoke, at least in class, and when he did he was almost impossible to understand. His vocabulary and sentences were all mixed up and the sounds he made for each utterance seemed to be stuck together. His teacher couldn&#8217;t decipher what he was saying, and although his kinder classmates tried, ultimately they gave up and often just walked away, leaving Mario to eat or play alone. In class, his reading, writing and math were as mixed up as his speech. Pulling his flaxen curls with his head bowed, he sadly sat at his desk all day with workbook pages full of teary splatters. As the second month of school wore on, he began to weep almost continually.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By the end of October, there were two Segreti children crying at school.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Then, a Segreti sibling disaster seemed eminent when Marco attempted to ask his teacher for permission to go to the office for some over-the-counter cold medication. With a tense jaw and quivering lips, he just could not get one syllable out. Tears swelled up and a drop ran down his cheek, but he tried stoically to hold himself together as he simply walked out of the classroom to the office. The nanny picked him up early that day.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The oldest and kindest Segreti child had now cried at school.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teachers were overwhelmed with apprehension and guilt. Those who had the Segreti children in their classes had separately all tried to communicate with the parents about the seriousness of each child&#8217;s problem, but seemingly to no avail. During lunch breaks, in the teacher&#8217;s room and after school, they had confided among themselves about the children and their parents. It was baffling to them that parents who voiced their own concerns when these problems were called to their attention, then wrote lovely letters to thank every educator for the individual attention given to each child, made sure the all homework was completed, not to mention could afford just about any help available, had done very little other than claiming to take Marco to speech therapy which, as was already pointed out, had not really helped change his speech patterns.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Then not one week after Marco went home early, Mario&#8217;s teacher, who was on recess duty, overheard Marco and Mara discussing that on Friday the family was leaving for their seaside condo for a couple of weeks so they could have a long Thanksgiving vacation. Finally the teachers came to the realization that the parents were not going to do anything even though the children were all failing and needed serious interventions. Taking them out of school now would only further jeopardize their education. The teachers had waited long enough for their principal to do something. Everyone went together to have a conference with Mother Superior.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The meeting was disturbingly interesting. Everyone who ever had any contact with a Segreti was present. All of the children&#8217;s records were pulled and gone through. For one thing, it was discovered that it had been recommended that Mario not even start school when he did. The retired kindergarten teacher who screened him had left a note stipulating that he badly needed a full evaluation of his speech and learning skills before he ever started school. That had never been done, but he had started kindergarten anyway, somewhere else. Mara started school a year early because her parents asserted she was so bright, but that same kindergarten teacher had recommended to Mr. and Mrs. Segreti that they should wait a year because Mara was so &#8220;clingy&#8221; with her mother, a sure sign of immaturity, not to mention her babyish speech patterns. Nonetheless, she was enrolled at age 4. Marco, now in sixth grade, had always stuttered and he was routinely recommended for pediatric speech therapy since Kindergarten, but, according to the records, he had only gone to the hospital&#8217;s rehabilitation department which provided services for adults who had strokes or head trauma injuries.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Hmmm,&#8221; speculated Marco&#8217;s teacher. &#8220;My father was there when he had a brain tumor. I never saw any children when I visited. That certainly couldn&#8217;t be a place for a sensitive boy like Marco.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Notes in the cumulative files of the children made by teachers who had gone on to teach elsewhere, pointed to all the difficulties of the Segreti children, attempts to talk with the parents, and the inevitable results that nothing had been done. The annotations also punctuated the peculiarity that all of the children had problems with some form of language, either oral or written and, for Mario, both. Marco stuttered, Mara was below grade level in language arts, and no one could understand Mario, even if he decided to talk, let alone that he was unable to do any of his class work.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There were no apparent signs of similar communication problems in the parents, as might be suspected. On the contrary, both had seemingly made great use of their fine verbal and written skills in their respective professions. Mr. Segreti was a highly respected family law attorney, noted for his clever questioning tactics during heated divorce proceedings and well crafted but demanding briefs. The mother, with Ph.D. in Linguistics, who always introduced herself as Dr. Segreti, was poetically lovely, effusive, and certainly verbally clever.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The principal agreed with her teachers that something had to be done immediately so, with several pairs of eyes watching, and the speaker phone switched on, she called the Segreti children&#8217;s mother.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The secretary answered the phone. &#8220;I&#8217;m sorry, Sister, but Dr. Segreti is not taking calls right now. She is leading a very important discussion. I will take a message and have her call you back, although it may be at the end of the day.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This kind of response was what Sister had anticipated, so she replied, &#8220;Well, tell her it&#8217;s an urgent call about her children.&#8221; She hung up and waited maybe two minutes.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;What is the emergency? Did you call 911?&#8221; Dr. Segreti did sound concerned.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;I explained to your secretary that my call was urgent, not an emergency, but there clearly are speech, learning and psychological crises with all of your children.&#8221; The principal took a breath to calm herself so she might sound more understanding than she felt. &#8220;I am sorry about my earlier message, however I do need for you to understand. I have gone through all of your children&#8217;s cum files and have spoken to their teachers. It seems that despite poor grades and crying at school, which you and your husband have been repeatedly advised of, you are taking the children out of school on a vacation. How can Mara and Mario make up this much lost class time with their current grades? And Marco&#8217;s stuttering has made it impossible for him to speak in class, especially now that an oral report is due.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;One teacher, remembering her own struggles with stuttering, looked away and sighed. Another who had problems learning to read as a child just glared at the phone. The others sat in rapt attention. This should have happened much sooner.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The mother was apologetic but blamed her husband who claimed he had to &#8220;get away&#8221;. &#8220;Really,&#8221; she stated matter-of-factly, &#8220;I think the children need a break too.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Not for two weeks when Christmas vacation is coming shortly. Surely that will be time enough to rest.&#8221; Sister replied.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;You will have to call my husband as he is resolute. Sometimes I don&#8217;t know how to respond to him when he makes up his mind. Anyway, the children have expressed their excitement so we can hardly tell them anything different now.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sister sighed but moved forward. &#8220;Have you done anything about getting help for your children? I think you met several weeks ago with the teachers but they tell me they haven&#8217;t heard a thing.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There was a hushed pause. &#8220;Well, my husband and I have discussed it.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Have you spoken with any of the contacts on the lists the teachers provided?&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Oh I am talking to staff and students continually. You know the day just flies by and all of a sudden its 5:00 and I haven&#8217;t had one moment to even make a personal call.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This last sentence required Sister to take another deep breath then clear her throat but her voice grew sterner. &#8220;Well, perhaps you should make time because your children can not go on without help.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Everyone in the room held their breath.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There was a long silence and finally the mother said, &#8220;Are you suggesting that they will not move to the next grade?&#8221; Dr. Segreti was now sounding a bit anxious.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;I am really more than suggesting it.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Again there was a long silence. &#8220;I will confer with my husband,&#8221; she said. &#8220;You will excuse me as I must preside over student debates.&#8221; There was a click and Dr. Segreti hung up.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teachers looked at each other and then left, some with murmurs of &#8220;I told you so&#8221; floating among them. Now they were all disgusted.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Within a half an hour, Mr. Segreti called, using his best legal tone. &#8220;Well, Sister, my wife tells me you have qualms about our children going on a much needed vacation?&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sister perceived his bluffing, topic manipulation and controlled voicing, so, all she answered was, &#8220;That is what prompted me to call, but that is not the real problem. Your children need immediate help.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Just like talking to the mother, there was a long silence. &#8220;Hmmmm. Well, I will have to speak to my wife. You know she is really the one who has the final say about the children&#8217;s education.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sister was becoming irritated. &#8220;Funny, but she said she would have to talk to you and as I called her first and then you called me, I would guess that you two had just spoken.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The couple&#8217;s long silences were fascinatingly frequent. Finally he said a bit more coolly, &#8220;We will have to do more than have a brief phone chat, Sister. While we are on vacation, we will have a detailed dialogue about the children&#8217;s difficulties and respond to you when we get back.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Any possible resolution would at best be put out a few weeks, particularly with Christmas vacation, so Sister replied with firm calmness, &#8220;Mr. Segreti, that will not do. I expect an answer by tomorrow.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;This is ridiculous! I will not be given an ultimatum.&#8221; His volume increased indignantly louder as he switched subjects. &#8220;I make regular contributions to your school, my wife volunteers in the classrooms and we pay full tuition for three children.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;I would think that a better use for money and time would be help for your children&#8217;s problems,&#8221; she stately flatly. &#8220;I will expect an answer tomorrow.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But, not unexpectedly, the children were withdrawn from the school the next day.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The Segretis went to their condo. During the next two weeks, the mother contacted several schools in other parishes, but all were full. &#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; Mr. Segreti speculated to his wife, &#8220;Sister had already called them, even though,&#8221; he added, &#8220;The middle of the year was a ridiculous time to try to find a suitable school.&#8221; Righteously angry, he vowed he would speak to the Bishop.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mr. Segreti did make an appointment to verbalize his concerns to the Bishop who listened intently and then expressed outrage that such a thing should have occurred within his community of souls. Once Mr. Segreti had sued a contractor for the church over a poorly installed leaking roof and did so graciously, never asking for compensation. Of course, the Bishop never mentioned that Mr. Segreti had also never paid his ex-wife any alimony when he divorced her before marrying his current wife. That first marriage had been quickly annulled which could have been suspect, except that the Bishop had the matter silenced. These were personal issues, not for parishioner gossip.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;I will personally speak to Sister.&#8221; The Bishop announced indignantly. But time passed and he never did talk to her knowing full well nothing he said would influence her.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mr. Segreti was pleased he had made his point about &#8220;the true mission of Catholic education to love every child&#8221;.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Finally one prestigious private, but nonsectarian, school was found with the appropriate openings about thirty miles away. Mr. Segreti thought that this was a godsend since it was not part of the family of schools which regularly contacted each other. Anyway, Mr. Segreti had pressing legal briefs to write, clients who had been calling constantly, and a newly hired legal secretary who needed instruction. So, once the children were in school again, his righteous anger and parental responsibilities faded. Dr. Segreti remained concerned, but she had been away from the Linguistics Department far too long, and did not want to discuss the issues again with a husband who only bellowed. Besides, now the children were in a more expensive and difficult to get into school, something she could just lightly bring up with the other lawyers&#8217; wives during cocktail chats at the club, or perhaps even with certain faculty at university coffee meetings. Anyway she missed lecturing where she would often use favorite quotes such as, &#8220;Language exerts hidden power, like a moon on the tides.&#8221; (Rita Mae Brown, <U>Starting From Scratch</U>, 1988)
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Once the children realized they were going to change schools, they expressed their negative feelings intensely, but briefly. Mario cried, Mara yelled at her mother and Marco was driven to utter speechlessness. They did not want to leave their friends, did not want to be in the car with the nanny the forty-five minutes it would take to drive to the new school, and they did not want new teachers. When Mara, who was the most persistent and would speak up for the siblings when necessary, complained for the third time to her father, he was reading a legal file, looked up momentarily, but only asked her to repeat what she said. She stopped talking to him. Both parents sighed, patted their children and then bought them new cell phones. The siblings gave up.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;However, the new school was beautiful and the entire staff made every effort to help the children learn about their teachers and classmates. Children&#8217;s records were routinely requested from previous schools, but since the Segretis did not happen to sign the exchange of information form for the previous school, they would not be retrieved.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Almost a month went by. Christmas vacation loomed.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Marco was stoically silent at home, but his stuttering increased incredibly at school. When he raised his hand or looked confused, his new teachers began coming to his desk so he wouldn&#8217;t have to speak in front of the other students.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mara seemed to be responding well, again making straight A&#8217;s, although one teacher had noticed that some of her returned work didn&#8217;t quite look like Mara&#8217;s class handwriting. When he approached Dr. Segreti about this, Mara started handing in homework completed on a computer. During this same conversation, Dr. Segreti saw the piano in the classroom and suggested he might like to earn extra money by giving the children private lessons. The teacher liked the Segretis, was barely getting by on a private school salary, had his own child on the way, and so forgot about his suspicions. Besides, he wished all parents would encourage their children to use a computer as typed papers were certainly easier to read.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mario had stopped talking completely. His young, kind and quiet spoken teacher had not yet talked to the Segretis, attributing Mario&#8217;s lack of speech to extreme shyness, even though educationally he was already more than lost. After all, she hardly knew Mario that well yet, so it was really best to give him plenty of time to adjust. Maybe after vacation she would speak with his parents.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The children&#8217;s educational lives might have continued in this fashion, except that Mario finally talked.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;One day Mario came to school with a large chunk of hair missing from the top of his head. No one saw it at first because he always wore a cap, but when the time came for the morning flag salute, he didn&#8217;t take it off, so of course his teacher, who happened to be standing next to him in the front of the class, just reached over and removed it. When she saw the huge bald spot, she quickly put it back on, but after the flag salute, she had her aide take over the class and called Mario outside.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Mario, I couldn&#8217;t help but notice you have some hair missing. What happened?&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mario looked up at her with his big eyes brimming with tears. He shrugged.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher had quickly become accustomed to Mario shrugging, but this was not a language arts lesson. &#8220;Did something or someone pull out your hair?&#8221; A couple of years ago she had seen another child&#8217;s bald spot but that mother had sent a note explaining that her children were playing hide and seek on a rainy day in the house and that her child&#8217;s hair had gotten caught in a door, an accident the happy pupil made great use of during sharing time. Mario&#8217;s bald spot was much bigger, but children did have all sorts of funny accidents.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mario continued to cry without uttering a sound. Frustrated, the teacher let him go back to class with this hat on, but at lunch she called his mother who was out of the office so the teacher left a voice mail message. &#8220;Dr. Segreti, Mario has a large bald spot on his head and when I questioned him he just cried.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;When Mario&#8217;s mother called back at the end of the day, she sounded untroubled. &#8220;Well, you know how Mario is,&#8221; his mother said mater-of-factly. &#8220;He cries at the drop of a hat, no pun intended.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher was momentarily surprised at the mother&#8217;s response, but then believing some embarrassing but humorous family happening precipitated Mario&#8217;s accident, she simply asked Dr. Segreti for an explanation. After all, things do happen and Mario had several cousins around his own age.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But Mario&#8217;s mother seemed to not know. &#8220;We had lots of children here over the weekend,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Last Saturday was Mario&#8217;s cousin&#8217;s birthday and the children were running through the house. Doors were being slammed and there was a lot of confusion. In fact, when my husband came home from meeting new clients, he yelled to the children to stop but when they didn&#8217;t, he went downstairs to break up the havoc. Mario came upstairs several minutes later with the balled spot and he couldn&#8217;t say where it came from, so I&#8217;m afraid I just really can&#8217;t tell you. I would guess he just didn&#8217;t want to snitch on his cousin. It&#8217;s cute how they like to keep secrets from us adults.&#8221; She giggled, a little too nervously the teacher thought, but Dr. Segreti added, &#8220;I wish my husband would enjoy his children more. I mean, after all, children will be children.&#8221; She sighed and said softly with a slip of uncertainty, &#8220;Sometimes he can be so harsh.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher felt she had to get to the bottom of the incident so before lunch recess ended, she called Mario into the room. She kneeled down to his level and looked into his eyes.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Well, Mario, your mom said there was a party at your house last Saturday, that you and your cousins were running around the house and that was when you lost your hair. Is that right?&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mario immediately looked down as a big tear drop fell on the hardwood floor. As he had before, and always did when words were needed, he shrugged.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Now the teacher was becoming uneasy. &#8220;Mario,&#8221; she asked him directly, &#8220;Did one of your cousins accidentally do this to you?&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He began to shake as drops of tears fell faster to the floor.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher&#8217;s apprehension grew. &#8220;Mario,&#8221; she continued quietly, &#8220;I want to help you. Who did this?&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Still, he wouldn&#8217;t, or couldn&#8217;t, speak. &#8220;Can you draw me a picture of what happened?&#8221; Mario, she had noticed, was a gifted artist. He nodded his head.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher gathered paper and crayons. Mario began to draw. At first he only drew several children, his cousins the teacher reasoned. Then in the last picture, he drew his father. She knew it was his father because of the beard, necktie and suit. His father was holding him by his hair off the ground, his face drawn menacingly mean. The teacher was briefly reminded of monster movies. She almost held her breath as she asked, &#8220;Did your father pull your hair out?&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He looked up into her eyes, his wet face knotted in terror, but this time he spoke what was for Mario three clear full sentences, &#8220;Pull me upstairs. Hair came out. Please, don&#8217;t tell.&#8221; Then he collapsed onto the table, pulling his shirt over his head and knocking off the cap.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher felt like she had been punched, the full force of what Mario revealed was far beyond what she had anticipated. She knew the seriousness. For Mario to even say one sentence was far beyond what she had ever heard him say. What he revealed was far beyond what she had imagined. To turn Mr. Segreti into the authorities was far beyond what she had ever done as a teacher. However, all of this didn&#8217;t matter. A child was at stake, perhaps more than one.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher went immediately to the principal after school but she was in a meeting so the teacher paced, tearing apart any resultant scenarios from what she had to reveal. What if the police went to the Segreti home? What if the esteemed lawyer was charged? What if the principal did not believe the episode happened or wouldn&#8217;t stand behind her? How would Dr. Segreti react? Each question threw her further into anguished anxiety.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;When the meeting was over and the office door opened, the harried teacher rushed past the parents and the principal who was escorting them out, and almost fell into an armchair next to the principal&#8217;s desk. She looked around the room. The office reflected the principal&#8217;s personal preferences- a framed print of a famous watercolor, a crystal vase with flowers, a tidy bookshelf with a couple of classics. There was nothing that identified this office as belonging to the principal of a school. The teacher began to wonder if she should even be there. Maybe she should have talked to another teacher first.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The principal came back, sliding softly into her chair by a large bay window, her face reflective of her happy meeting with the parents who just left, a couple of local doctors who gave generously to the school.&#8220;Well, I see you have something important to tell me,&#8221; she said still smiling brightly.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher looked directly into the principal&#8217;s eyes. &#8220;Yes,&#8221; she stated, &#8220;I need to talk to you about Mario Segreti and what he told me today.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Hmm, well he doesn&#8217;t say much, so I hope it was long and interesting,&#8221; was her cynically humorous response. The teacher flinched but continued.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;He told me that his father pulled out his hair when he dragged him up some stairs at home during a birthday party for one of the cousins.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Did he really say all of that?&#8221; She was already clouding the real issue.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Well, he only said three sentences, but he drew pictures to tell me the story. It was devastating.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;For a moment, the principal&#8217;s face did not change, then a shadow seemed to form around tightening lips and she looked away. &#8220;Only three sentences? Hardly much of a narrative. Just what do you expect from me?&#8221; she asked.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Not altogether surprised, although angered, the teacher answered, &#8220;Why, your support and help. I have to turn this father in to Child Protective Services, of course.&#8221; Then the teacher told her the whole story.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;I really don&#8217;t see how you can turn Mr. Segreti in,&#8221; the principal replied slowly, and turned to look out of the window. &#8220;After all, Mario hardly speaks. How can you really be sure what he meant. A child can draw anything, especially with encouragement.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher&#8217;s face grew crimson as her anger surfaced with this accusation. &#8220;When a teacher gets a credential, it is directly stated that any even suspected abuse must be turned in to the authorities. It is anonymous, but must be done. That is the law.&#8221; She stared straight at the principal.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Well Mario&#8217;s father is a lawyer, so I would assume he knows this, but I see that you know what to do too, however I would talk to the Segretis first.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;I told you, I spoke with Dr. Segreti and nothing came of it. And, if I am the one who is to turn this in, I want it to be anonymous.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;I don&#8217;t see how it can be now. You were the one who Mario talked to and then you called his mother&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher hadn&#8217;t thought of this, but she was resolved. &#8220;Are you going to back me or not?&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;I support all of my teachers. You know that. Keep in mind the Segretis have contributed heavily to this school.&#8221; She turned away and began picking up papers. &#8220;I have to go to a meeting now, so let me know how this turns out.&#8221;
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The teacher went home to an empty house. Her husband was gone on a business trip and she hadn&#8217;t been able to talk to anyone other than the principal. The teacher had only five years experience and most all of her encounters with parents and children had been happy ones, but that night she could barely sleep, tossing and turning with horrific dreams of scared and sorrowful children left to fend for themselves. She legally had only 24 hours from Mario&#8217;s confession to turn it over to child protective services. Absolutely exhausted when daylight entered her room, she was nonetheless resolved.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;At recess the teacher called the authorities. She explained that Mario did not speak very well, and that some of what he tried to explain was in the form of pictures or just crying. &#8220;Hmmmm,&#8221; was all he woman who took the call said at first, but then added that a worker would be at the school to talk with Mario after lunch. All reported cases had to be investigated. The teacher was worried.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The CPS worker was a nice older man who came to the classroom at 12:30 to first look at the pictures before trying to talk to Mario. All he said too was, &#8220;Hmmmm.&#8221; The teacher&#8217;s worry increased.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mario went willingly with the nice man to the principal&#8217;s office as she just happened to be taking the day off. They sat there for some time with Mario merely nodding and avoiding any eye gaze. He did not utter one syllable but tears continually fell. He never raised his head, his bald spot a little pink from playing outside without his cap.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;After an hour, the CPS worker gave up. Without enough words, Mario couldn&#8217;t tell the man anything, he explained. Without a description and with no other adult to verify what happened, nothing could be done. Mario&#8217;s language, thoughts and feelings seemed to be floating around in his head, all mixed up, surfacing only by crying. The CPS worker took him back to his class. He told the teacher that children can make up things but that they also get stuck in situations that they won&#8217;t talk about. He couldn&#8217;t know which was true for Mario. He doubted if even Mario really knew. In any case, Mario just couldn&#8217;t say. Therefore, the nice man said, there was nothing that could be done.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The following week, Mr. Segreti told the principal that after Easter he was moving the children to another school. This one had proven to be too far away, even though it was wonderful, he assured her. Anyway, Marco was starting high school soon so he would be driving himself and the fine lawyer did not want him driving that far. Plus, if they were to move now, it would give Marco time to make new friends, not very easy with his stuttering problem. And, he added, Dr. Segreti wanted a better English program for Mara, who they felt was headed for law school one day. She also felt that Mario needed a more experienced teacher, particularly since Mario wasn&#8217;t doing at all well in his studies. Younger teachers had not yet had enough experience to know how to approach different learners and Mario really would benefit from a seasoned teacher, one that might like to earn some extra money tutoring him after school. The Segretis had discussed all of this, he said, when the family had gone to their condo. Even the children had agreed. Mario, of course, had only smiled and nodded when he was asked, but, he was just so shy and always wanted to please the adults around him. They knew that he would have said the very same thing if he would have used words.



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