violence—physical or verbal—and we believe it is inappropriate and inadequate behaviour, no matter what the context for it. We have had intense discussions with Rose about the use of physical force to resolve conflicts, and she acknowledges that it is unacceptable.
As you know, Rose is depressed and emotionally unstable at the moment, and not always able to employ the intellectual tools she should use in a situation like yesterday’s. She is suffering from depression, which began about six months ago and has manifested itself in a variety of behaviours. You may recall that the study on Eating Concerns and Body Image in which she participated late last year alerted us to the fact that her problems were more significant than we had originally thought. She is currently being treated by the St Jude’s Hospital Adolescent Unit. We are most grateful for the school’s contribution to the effort to help her and we believe that her improvement, in particular her willingness to face and resolve her problems, is directly related to the tremendous support Rose has received from everyone involved in her care at Boomerang.
We are deeply concerned that expulsion will equate in Rose’s mind to abandonment, particularly because she perceives that the issues of injustice which underpinned the argument, and which were the provocation for her to act violently, will have gone unnoticed.
Those issues include: the exclusion of another student (Ursula O’Brien) from the French tour because of complaints about her ‘moral character’ by Mrs Pessites to Miss Crowden Clark (Mrs Pessites confirmed to us that she believes Ursula O’Brien to ‘have low morals’); and the racial and sexual nature of Eva Pessites’ comment to Rose during the argument that Rose should, ‘Go and suck your boyfriend’s black c—.’ Rose’s boyfriend is African-South American. She has encountered a great deal of racial prejudice while going out with him, and is deeply distressed by it. Furthermore, she is disturbed by the implication that she is in an active sexual relationship with this boy, which she is not.
These are issues which Rose feels strongly about, and to which she responded during the argument, albeit highly inappropriately. These are also the issues that will be raised in court if we need to defend Rose from an application for an Apprehended Violence Order, which Mrs Pessites has indicated she will seek.
We understand that you have a responsibility to ensure a safe environment for all students and that Rose’s actions have compromised your ability to provide that guarantee. We promise you that Rose will never again use violence against another student.
We are praying that the compassion and caring which is the reason we chose Boomerang for Rose, and which recently has been so much a part of her healing process, can be offered in response to this situation. We are the desperate parents of a girl in danger. We have always believed that if you give a child enough time and unconditional love, you can get them through anything. However we appear to have lost our way with Rose. We beg you, and the school, not to forsake our girl.
Kind regards,
Wendy Weinstein and Michael O’Dell
Two days after the accident, you slide into the chair opposite the headmistress’s desk. As your leather belt makes farting noises against the padded vinyl seat, everyone pretends not to have heard it. But you flush with embarrassment anyway. ‘That wasn’t me,’ you want to say, except you realise how pathetic it is to apologise for something you didn’t do. You hate yourself for your unmanly coyness.
And even if you did do it, who cares? It’s not like you could help it, like you were being intentionally disrespectful. Flatulence doesn’t come with an on/off switch. It just comes. Get over it, your internal voice shouts as Wendy hands you back your crutches.
Christina Bowden settles in her leather seat and asks how you are feeling. It takes a moment to realise that she is not privy to the sad details of your inner imbroglio; she is enquiring after your battered body. You can sense a cavalry of pain crashing against the rampart of drugs you have ingested but all you feel is a distant throbbing.
‘Thank God for drugs,’ you quip.
Wendy smiles a smile at you that says: taking the name of the Lord in vain plus condoning drugs. What do you do for a trifecta, Responsible Father?
Christina Bowden smiles enigmatically. You’ve been trying to read her intentions for the last hour or so. She’s spoken to you and Wendy and Rosie, then Rosie alone, and now it’s you and Wendy without Rosie. She’s been fair and thorough. She’s compiled a report of the incident from the testimony of more than twenty eyewitnesses. A picture of the conflict has emerged that is neither as benign as Rosie’s version nor as harrowing as Eva’s. Clearly both girls are at fault but as Christina, call me Christina, has reminded you twice now, Rosie initiated an assault and assault is an expellable offence. Christina has listened to Rosie’s ire about Mrs Pessites’ behaviour and Eva’s response. She has spoken to Rosie kindly and at length about anger management and the application of emotional intelligence. She has been meticulous in her handling of the whole affair.
And suddenly you realise why. She’s going to expel Rosie. If she were going to suspend her, this meeting would have been short and sweet. It’s obvious that the appropriate response to Rosie’s behaviour is a short suspension. But there is no way Christina Bowden can turn her back on the Pessites money. You see now that this woman before you has no choice. It’s not that she wants to expel Rosie. She has to. And she has to be seen to be doing it for all the right reasons. This inquiry is a means of convincing everyone—even herself—that justice is being done. But the instant Rosie O’Dell hit Eva Pessites, her fate was sealed.
‘Your letter made quite an impression,’ begins Christina.
You brace yourself for the systematic dismissal of all of Wendy’s finely penned arguments and think not without a fight, Honey Bunch, you’re not getting rid of us that easy. You shift in your seat and a fabricated fart rips through the room. But this time you’re glad. You only wish it came with a smell.
‘The letter made an impression, did it?’ you ask, edging your disdain with a tint of anger.
Wendy turns, startled by your tone. The headmistress draws herself up in her chair and presses on. ‘I took the liberty of sharing it with the deputy and the school board.’ Here she pauses for dramatic effect but you’re not putting up with any of that shit.
‘And?’ you say, sounding incredibly bored.
Wendy places her hand on yours. To the casual observer, it would appear she is resting it there as a sign of support and affection but underneath there is a vice-like grip that warns: one more word and I’ll snap your fingers off.
Call-me-Christina smiles. ‘We all agree that expulsion would be an excessive response to these particular circumstances.’
Rosie is recalled to the room and informed that she will be suspended for two and a half weeks until the holidays. She may resume classes and make a fresh start in the new term. She sags with relief and her little face crumples into tears. Wendy hugs her and you rub her back as she sobs her gratitude to the headmistress.
You have no idea why, but on the way home your robust good humour withers. You feel like the drugs are no longer doing their trick. The rampart corrodes. Pain leaks in through the cracks and fissures. You stagger into bed and sleep. Time becomes liquid. Your mind and body float, absorbed in an orchestration of healing. You wake regularly—every hour
