The next morning Becca drove to Lakeview Elementary, where Jonah was enrolled, for a meeting with Trinia Wells, the school’s guidance counselor. She already knew Trinia, a thirtyish heavy-set black woman with a kind smile and a cutting stare, from having arranged church daycare for a student suspended for fighting. If she hadn’t provided for that care, the school would’ve had to pay for it, since the boy’s mother, raising three kids as a single parent, worked a minimum-wage job with no personal leave. Trinia was grateful for that assistance and willing to bend a few rules now to return the favor.
“Officially, you’re not hearing any of this,” Trinia said from behind her desk backed by a long window looking out on the school’s ball field. Second graders on recess chased each other in the bright warm day.
Becca nodded. “My ears are sealed.”
“As you’d guessed, Jonah scored very high on IQ and creative aptitude. His verbal was average, math near the bottom. Based on these scores alone, I’d say this child merits special attention.”
“I can assure you of that.”
“I also checked with his teacher. She says he’s generally well-behaved, overall shy but on rare occasion aggressive toward the other students. She feels he could benefit by special attention and a customized curriculum, but she of course doesn’t have the time or resources to provide for that.”
Becca nodded. “I understand.”
“Tell me a little about his family situation.”
Becca filled her in with the information she had.
“So you’ve never met his mother?”
Becca shook her head.
“But we can assume from the great-grandmother, and from the fact that she’s missed all her quarterly updates with his teacher, that she’s not fully focused on Jonah’s education.”
“We can assume that she could care less about her son.”
Trinia smiled. “Administrators are taught to be as generous as reasonable in our assumptions.”
“Social workers—at least this one—learn quickly to be blunt,” Becca said then added, “It didn’t come naturally till I began to care.”
Trinia offered a nod. “We all care, but we learn to apportion that care for the long haul. It does no one any good to get burned out.”
“I’ll try to learn that skill.”
“Good luck. It isn’t easy.”
“So what are our options for Jonah?”
“We have a pilot program this summer for at-risk kids—regular school hours, customized curriculums. Trouble is, enrollment has been set for weeks; and Jonah was never considered because he’d never been flagged.”
Becca shook her head.
“However, just this morning I received word that one of the program’s kids will be moving to New York to live with his aunt soon as school is out. So there’s an opening available. Now of course we have a waiting list.”
Becca stared at her with an almost desperate plea in her gaze.
Trinia smiled. “But I have discretion in such matters, and I can see that a change in Jonah Bingham’s circumstances merits moving him to the top of that list.”
Becca’s smile of gratitude was brighter than the brilliant sun outside the window.
“If we can be sure of transportation to and from the school,” Trinia added. “There’s no bus service available.”
Becca thought just a second. “I’ll bring him.”
Trinia nodded. “How did I know that? We also need the signature of his parent or designated guardian.”
“If his mother’s not available?”
“Will his great-grandmother sign?”
“I’m sure she will.”
Trinia stared at Becca. “If the mother reappears and makes a stink, it’ll be my butt on the line.”
Becca grinned. “I thought administrators were taught to be ‘as generous as reasonable in their assumptions.’”
“Only until it’s our backside at risk, then we tend to get blunt in a hurry.”
Becca nodded. “Thank you for risking that body part.”
Trinia shook her head. “No, thank you for reminding me of what it is to care with your heart. Sometimes we forget what that feels like.”
“I may wish to forget it before this is all over.”
“No risk,” Trinia said, “No reward.” She handed Becca the form for Mrs. Brackett to sign, then stood and shook her hand.
At about the same time, Zach set aside a stalled scene to his novel, took up his Poem Journal, and wrote the following poem: