Dear Mrs. Welsch,
This letter has nothing to do with our legal trouble. As of
this morning I’ve informed the school that I won’t press charges and want them
to do the same. You need to know that as upset as some people are about this, I’m
still only interested in what’s best for Darius.
Darius is an unusual student. I’ve encountered very few boys
like him, yet every one of them was exactly like Darius. Your son is so open
about himself that he is inaccessible. When I attempt to correct his
conjugation in French, he interrupts me and yells the completion of the
correction, chastises himself, and apologizes to me. It is always in that
order.
Multiple times during the week before the incident, I
observed him approached by other boys for conversation, but once invited for an
opinion, he announces his beliefs and sets about examining them aloud, not
allowing the other boys to converse with him; if they get a word in edgewise,
he course-corrects his monologue and continues on, refusing to let anyone else
in. I understand why your husband was offended at my earlier recommendation
that he see a councilor, though I assume he is receiving help at the present
time.
Whatever the root of his issue, he is suffering from a
radical self-definition that refuses social connection. Every day he builds
walls of his inner thoughts around himself. He is too open to be accessible,
and it is preventing him from learning in the classroom and connecting with his
fellow children.
Monday I gave him a moleskin in which to write some of his
thoughts; as of Thursday, he had filled less than half a page. His radical
self-definition only occurs when people try to talk to him. That kind of
silence when alone could be part of what’s wrong. And to the end of finding out
what’s wrong, I thought you would find my account of Thursday afternoon useful.
When I arrived at the cafeteria, Darius was already
insisting on buttering all the other boys’ toast, and was enthusiastically
explaining how it is to be done. One boy, whom I will not name, didn’t enjoy
this lecture and tried to pull his plate away early. I do not believe Darius
swiped the knife at him intentionally, but was rather pulling himself away to
disengage. He cut his own cheek and I could see there was a fair amount of
blood. When I approached to examine the wound and take him to the Nurse’s, he
began rambling about a history of anemia in your family. His tone was a
warning, even though his words were merely explanatory. I disregarded and tried
to apply a napkin to his cheek, which is when he stabbed my shoulder. The other
boys tackled him shortly after that and the police were phoned.
I checked on him twice before the officers arrived. I’ve
never seen him talking that fast; the second time, I couldn’t even make out the
words. I believe he was explaining himself to the plastic model skeleton in the
Nurse’s station.
I don’t know what is wrong with Darius. From what I’ve
heard, he won’t be allowed back in public school for some time. It is my hope
that you’ll find him what he needs. If he’s ever ready to come back, I’ll do
what I can to help him.
Sincerely,
Diane Caddell
Counter est. March 2, 2008
Hmmm. I found myself disliking Diane Caddell, and putting her in the do-goodery category, which sees no ill in anyone, always means well and often achieves the opposite. I may not have been fair.
ReplyDeleteLove this, John. More wit and wisdom. Fancy Darius (with such a lovely Biblical name, too!) buttering the other boys' toast when he'd be much better served buttering up his teacher.
ReplyDeleteI've taught people who were kind of like this. They are scary beyond all reason, and of course from their point of view they are normal and everyone else in the room is just... irrelevant.
ReplyDeleteWow, talk about a difficult kid. You have to wonder how he got that way—is it natural, or has something happened to him? This was a fascinating peek into what I can only describe as mental illness. (Even though, sometimes, I feel like Darius. His internal monologue has gone external.)
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ReplyDeleteI've had a couple of students like this and they're always difficult. You want to help, but you're not sure how, and you've captured that indecision well.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a classic case of early onset logorrhea dementia. A lithium-provigil-focalin combo should fix the kid right up.
ReplyDeleteThen he'd be normal, just like the rest of us.
Really fascinating case study. I'd read a book or watch a movie about this kid. Very nice work, and good choice of framing device.
ReplyDeleteDifferent from your normal fare, but wonderful just the same.
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ReplyDeleteThis kid is intriguing - takes self involvement to a whole new level. Fascinating way to tell his story.
ReplyDeletePs shouldn't that be counsellor? Or is that an English spelling?
I love the image of him explaining himself to the skeleton, the haeccity that underlies us all
ReplyDeletemarc nash
I wouldn't say he is an interesting case study, but he is quite an intriguing human being, especially for a boy his age. His odd behaviour is a bit alien.
ReplyDeleteI wonder to what level his teacher is frightened of him and to what level for him.
Poor Darius, life can be so confusing at times.
ReplyDeleteI blame the mother. It's always the mother's fault! Oh...wait....
ReplyDeleteLOL Poor kid. He probably doesn't realize what he's doing.
ReplyDeleteA nicely written monologue -- almost about monologue, in a way. Strange kid. But plastic skeletons are quite the conversationalist once you give them the time of day. St.
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