Free Lost at School by Ross W. Greene

away from a problem.”
    “That’s why you were out there watering dead flowers.”
    “Very funny.”
    “See, that’s my point. You keep telling me about how the kids keep getting more and more difficult. You keep telling me you don’t like to run away from problems, you want to help them. Maybe trying to help these kids is like watering dead flowers. Maybe there’s no helping them.”
    Mrs. Woods thought for a moment. “I don’t believe that,” she said softly.
    “All I know is if our kids ever acted that way …”
    “Garrett and Lisa were easy,” said Mrs. Woods. “I don’t have trouble with the easy kids in my class. They’re easy. I have trouble with the tough kids. I don’t know what to do with the tough kids!”
    “Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” said Mr. Woods, turning his attention back to making dinner. “If you’re bound and determined to help the tough kids, then I guess you’ll have to find some way to figure it out.”
    On Tuesday, Joey’s mother received a phone call at work.
    “Hi, is this Mrs. Turner?” asked an unfamiliar voice.
    “No, this is not Mrs. Turner,” she responded impatiently.
    “Um, is Mrs. Turner there?”
    “There is no Mrs. Turner here,” she said with curt satisfaction.
    She heard the caller fumbling with papers. “Oops, uh … sorry. Oh, I see here, Turner’s your husband’s name …”
    “He’s not my husband anymore,” she said tersely, while feeling slight pity for the confused-sounding man on the other end of the phone. “Who is this anyways?”
    “Oh, um … I’m sorry. Yes, now I see … Ms. Lowell, yes?”
    “You got it. What can I do for you?”
    “My name is Carl Bridgman. I’m the new psychologist at Joey’s school. Is this a good time?”
    Oh, great, Joey’s mother thought. Another shrink. She tried to suppress her well-established frustration with the mental health profession. “No,” she lied, “this is not a good time.”
    “Sorry about the confusion. I’m kind of new to the school system, and I just received Joey’s file this morning. I understand there was a problem at school last week.”
    “You could say that.”
    “I’d really like to understand what happened in that classroom,” said Dr. Bridgman.
    “You’re not the only one,” said Joey’s mother.
    “It sounds like this is a bad time for you, but I’m thinking it might be a good idea for me to meet you and Joey, you know, so I can start to get a handle on things.”
    “Mr. Bridgman … that’s what you said your name was?” asked Joey’s mother.
    “Well, it’s Doctor Bridgman, but whatever.”
    “Doctor Bridgman,” said Joey’s mother, “if you can get a handle on what’s going on with my son, you’ll be the first to accomplish the feat.”
    “Hmm … I take it others have tried.”
    “You’d be number eight.”
    “Sounds like Joey’s been struggling for quite a while.”
    “I thought you said you had his file in front of you.”
    “Well, I must confess, I haven’t looked at it very closely,” said Dr. Bridgman. “But since it sounds like no one’s gotten a handle on Joey’s problems yet, I’m not sure whether the information would be terribly useful anyway.”
    Joey’s mother found herself warming slightly to the psychologist.“Joey’s been difficult since he was a toddler, things got worse once he started school, and things are still bad now. And to tell you the honest truth”—she could feel herself starting to get emotional—“to tell you the honest truth, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
    “Look, I can’t make any promises,” said Dr. Bridgman. “I know how hard it can be to deal with schools, especially if you have a challenging kid. All I can tell you is that I’ll listen to you and try to understand what’s going on with Joey and do my best to make things better. But I can’t do any of those things unless you’ll come in with Joey and meet with me.”
    What do I have to lose? thought Ms. Lowell.