What a weird little place this house is, and what a bizarre little world this campus. In less than two months I will have spent a year of my life at Park Grove Academy living with Frank and Jeanine and all the other “disturbed adolescents” as we are commonly called. Yet, what is weirder still is the fact that I am soon leaving this place. Next week is the last week of the grading period, and after that I’ll be attending my home school for all but one class. Each morning I’ll take a taxi cab from my home some ten miles from here and have a math class here at Park Grove. Following that exercise in futility, I’ll spend the rest of my school day at Willow Wood High and go home.
On Monday’s and Wednesday’s I’ll continue working at the Deli at the mall, and I’ll spend every Thursday night here at the campus. Well, actually, I’ll stay the night here for the first nine weeks of the semester, and then only check in for a couple of hours each Thursday afternoon until I’m officially discharged from the Academy.
It is kind of scary to think I’ll be back home full time with my crazy mother. Hell, it’s over three years since I was living at home. I’m not complaining, it will be good to be back home and with my friends, but it’s just going to take some time to readjust to life with mom. We’ve been apart for a long time, and we’re more like strangers than family.
During the first few months of my first placement my mom would come visit me every week. Yet, during my last few months there, she only showed up four times.
When I was at the hospital she often missed the weekly family sessions she was supposed to attend and never showed up unless she was being forced to. I know she’s a busy lady and hated those places as much as I, but it still bothered me that she never came. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I was ever thrilled to see her, but it just seemed like she should have made more of an effort to see me sometime.
My last placement before Park Grove was the worst. The place was like a prison and they never seemed to mind the fact that my mom didn’t come to visit. The entire time I was there, some fourteen or fifteen months, I rarely saw my mom.
The only times she saw the place was when she brought me back from my two home visits, to admit me and to take me from there to here. I lived at that hell hole for over a year, and she never once saw the room I slept in, or the place I ate all my meals.
Until I came to Park Grove I had gone two years without even being home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Only over the last six months have I even been home for the weekends. In near three years the longest I’ve been home at one time is just three days.
Now, in little over a week I’ll be sleeping at home six nights a week. Jesus, man, I truly don’t know if either of us are ready for that.
I guess I shouldn’t down rap my mom. Frank and Jeanine helped me get over my anger at my mom and even got me to see her strengths. I know that in her own perverted little way she loves me, but it’s hard to feel close to a lady who allows others to ruin her life. I know she’s done the best she could, but often that doesn’t seem good enough.
My weekends with my mom have gone pretty well lately, but that’s mainly because we pretty much have learned how to stay out of each other’s way. I stay out of her life, and she does her best to stay out of mine.
The only time we talk about anything important is when we’re in a session with Frank and Jeanine, and who knows what will happen when we’re through with them.
The last few months Frank and Jeanine have gotten my mom and I to recognize and compliment each other’s strengths. It’s been nice to hear her say some good things about me, and though real uncomfortable, its been good for me to say some nice things to her.
You should see my mom at work, making decisions, training new secretaries and organizing the entire floor of the office building. When she’s at work she’s this powerful little dynamo, but when she’s at home she becomes this dependent bimbo. She long ago gave up on trying to control or even support me, and forever jumps from one abusive boyfriend to the next.
Life at my house is a real soap opera, even more than this place. Here things are like a fantasy world, at homes things are all too real. Here the adults are mellow, even if its usually just a show, and at home everything’s tense and brutal.
My mom’s always got some live-in boyfriend hanging around who is just this side of Charles Manson. My mom’s always crying and throwing things or yelling at some idiot to get out of her life. Yet, she never truly gets rid of the creeps, only replaces them when it gets even too ugly for her.
I’ve never understood how a person could be so in control at their job, and so weak in their private life. I guess I’m just as responsible for our growing apart as she is. I lost respect for her as time went on. Each time I saw her giving in to one of those jerks, or kissing a guy who had beaten her up the night before, I just got angrier and more distant.
When I was little my mom was always there for me, but as I grew up she seemed lost at how to deal with me. The day I stood up and refused to have her coddle and primp over me was the day we stopped having any connection at all.
Now, all that’s left of the old days is the way she says my name. When she calls my name, it still sounds like she’s talking to a five year old. She says Gary like most people say Johnny or Jimmy, but at least those kids can ask to be called John and Jim when they get older, I’m stuck with hearing her say Gaa-rrry like she’s calling her precious little lap dog.
Yet, after three years it is time for me to go home. Three months at a hospital, six months in a drug rehab program, and over two years in group homes have taught me at least one thing. Nothing is more important to me than having my freedom.
The trick I’ve needed to learn is how to be free without having people take it away from me. Frank and Jeanine tell me I’ve learned to be more diplomatic. Maybe so, but I still have trouble keeping my mouth shut when people are acting like fools.
Listening to Frank in the next room just goes to show how normal strange things can become. He is letting Tony know that he’s earning a “negative 2,143 points for trying to manipulate the situation”. What’s even more incredible than being told such an absurd thing is that Tony is writing this down on his “point card” and about to earn some points back for exploring “appropriate alternatives” to being slick and dishonest.
I remember the first couple of days I was here. Seeing a house of seven guys carrying around these little green cards in their pockets was hilarious. My laughter soon ceased when I realized I was soon to become one of these zombies and would have to scurry around the house earning points and privileges.
Having to sit and listen to some adult harp on what they thought I was doing wrong, was bad enough. Yet, the thought of writing down all their personal criticisms of me seemed as ludicrous as making me carry my feces around all day long (which, by the way, is exactly what a doctor is able to accomplish when they make you bring in a specimen).
What was most amazing was in the frequency that Jeanine, Frank, and their assistant Ralph used the cards. Not only were the guys getting nailed for every little thing they were doing wrong, but they were also getting positive points with even greater frequency. Even though I thought the cards were incredibly stupid, I was impressed with how calmly the adults tended to even the most intense situations.
Even before I was officially on a card and had to earn my privileges through points, Jeanine and Frank regularly praised and criticized me for almost anything I did. Each time they pointed something out they would inform me what I would have earned for such a behavior, or what kind of consequence I would receive. At times this really got on my nerves and I couldn’t help but feel that I was being initiated into some kind of religious cult.
On some level I kept hoping that the crew of “60 Minutes” would bust through the door and expose these fanatics and their heathen practices, while saving me from an almost certain future as an automaton. Despite these feelings I found myself liking Frank and Jeanine, and respecting them for truly caring about the guys in the house.
This gut level respect for Jeanine and Frank did not prevent me from breaking the golden rule of the campus on my third day on a point card. The “expectation” was that all the kids in the house should evacuate the area and go to their rooms whenever one of the kids in the house went off. Well, when Kent, one of the boys in the house when I first arrived, had a fit during dinner I hung around to see the show.
Kent was in all-star form, throwing his chair, swearing and screaming at the top of his lungs. Jeanine left with the rest of the guys, and Frank did his best to talk Kent down.
After a few minutes of following Kent around the room and listening to him rant and rave, Frank quietly told Kent he was earning consequences for his behavior and he needed to calm down. At the same time Frank told Kent how much he believed in him, and praised him for how much self-control he had shown over the last few weeks.
When I heard this, I began laughing. What a stupid thing to say. Here was this kid stalking about like a rabid animal and Frank was praising him for being so in control. Kent, seeing me laugh, started laughing and began to mimic Frank’s words of encouragement. Frank quickly gave me a consequence for my input and informed me that the consequence would triple if I hung around.
Kent, hearing this, told me to split and not make his problems mine. I told him that was one crazy piece of advice, and walked out of the room. I couldn’t believe Kent in the middle of his fit would still spout that kind of bullshit. Even while he was rebelling, he spoke like a brainwashed disciple of the religion of Park Grove Academy.
God, that day seems so long ago, but I still remember the intensity in Frank’s eyes when he told me that if I didn’t leave the room, I would be buried up to my eye balls with negative points. I have only seen Frank angry on two or three occasions, but when he does get angry it has all the power of the wrath of God, and makes you feel just as lousy.
Right now listening to Frank talk to Tony, it is hard to imagine Frank ever getting mad, or losing control. Tony, is one of the most insincere manipulative little twerps I’ve ever seen. He’s only fourteen, hangs around with eighteen year olds and acts like he’s 21. He accepts his consequences as if they are an award, and kisses up to adults as often as I blink.
Most adults are sucked in by his ass kissing, but Frank and Jeanine are not deceived by his artificial compliance. They regularly nab him for his insincerity and try to encourage him to be honest with his emotions. Rather than act like he’s always happy and talk behind people’s backs, they try to teach him how to express his anger and resentment in a more “productive” manner.
Tony, who has gotten his way by being false and phoney, has a real hard time believing that his life would be better if he were to be honest. His wealthy parents, though embarrassed by the fact he’s in placement, view his slimy exterior as a true means of becoming successful. They don’t want Tony to lie to them, but feel his charm and savvy are his only tools for success. In their eyes Tony is an unskilled and unintelligent tragedy, whose guile and manipulation will more than compensate for his lack of talent.
Frank just caught Tony in his third lie since he started talking to him about his room. Tony’s first lie was about who was supposed to empty the garbage can in their room. Rather than accept the fact that he’d forgotten or was too lazy to empty the garbage, he unsuccessfully tried to pawn off the responsibility on Will.
This tactic would have been a successful smoke screen if Frank did not know Will as well as he does. Will, hyper-anxious if not downright scared about his pending home visit, started to react like crazy over Tony’s lie, defending himself by insulting Tony. Frank, aware of the scene about to unfold, kept the focus on Tony, and off Will by instructing him to go downstairs and “self-report” his reaction to Jeanine. This deft little move by Frank allowed Will an escape route and prevented Tony from playing Will like a violin.
With Will out of the room, Tony is seeking another way to avoid taking responsibility for the garbage. He conjuring up a few bogus tears while complaining how hard it is to room with an aggravating person like Will.
Tony’s going on to tell some tall tale of how Will kept pestering him all night long, and even tried to set him up by turning off his alarm clock. According to Tony, because of Will’s childishness, he had overslept and only due to his desire to succeed did he get all the other parts of his room chore done.
Well, I won’t go on to describe the rest of Tony’s tap dance, but it is safe to say that Frank is not being taken in by any of his antics. You wouldn’t believe how often the teachers at school and many of the other adults on campus buy into the man’s stories. One day he’s a victim, the next he’s a saint, but always he’s the “boy wonder” who the girls gather around like he’s the latest sale.
As the conversation between Frank and Tony draws to a close, Doug once again gets nervous. He quickly goes through his closet and drawers, and slides his finger over my night stand to check for dust. Taking the wrinkles out of his bed spread, he turns towards me and asks me to do the same to my bed. Not wanting to battle the pathetic galoot I stand up and re-tightened my bed spread and even make a crease along my pillow. Doug smiles with approval, and almost stands at military attention when he hears Frank approaching.
Frank seeing Doug’s stance quips “at ease,” and half seriously tells Doug to take a deep breath. Unable to contain himself Doug asks Frank to check his half of the room first. I just smile and shake my head as Frank looks over at me.
In an effort to ease Doug’s tension Frank asks Doug if he’s ready for his big date this weekend. Doug says “definitely” and asks Frank if he knew about his getting to drive the car. Frank says yes, and cautions Doug to be careful while pointing out how much trust his parents are showing in him.
While Frank isn’t looking Doug looks at me and rolls his eyes in response to Frank’s last observations. Doug, beginning to fidget, cracks his knuckles and receives an immediate glance of reprimand from Frank. Doug smiles while sputtering something about how nervous he is.
Content with Doug’s efforts, Frank gives Doug some positive points and turns his attention to me. Doug pumps his fist in the air and says “I’m going home!”
When you’ve done well, like I have, you no longer have to be on a point card. I have been off a card for almost two months and now am quite comfortable with what they call “natural consequences.” Being on natural consequences means rather than getting points I get rewards, privileges and punishments based directly on “specific behaviors”.
Since cleaning my room is no big deal, I don’t usually get anything for having a clean room. Now I only get things for doing something outstanding, like reading a book in two days, or saving a dog from a raging fire. Actually, I often get little things like a later curfew or a ride to the movies just for being mellow and supportive.
If, on the other hand, I have a messy room, I probably would have a couple extra chores to do around the house. The thing I still get the most consequences for is my sense of humor. In particular, sarcastic comments. When I came here I got nailed almost every hour for insulting, teasing, down rapping and poking fun at everything from the national government to the way Avery talked.
Jeanine and Frank would constantly tell me that I had to learn how to balance my humor with positive statements. They said my humor and sarcasm balanced with compliments added much to their day, but unbalanced left every one in the house grumpy. They never tired of pointing out how my most funny and unmalicious comments often unintentionally insulted and tore down others in the house. They themselves could exchange barbs and put downs with anyone, yet it was true I never felt demeaned or insulted by their humor. I guess it was because they laughed at my jokes and often verbally sparred with me that I began to listen to their criticisms and tried to be more supportive of others.
Frank, who is obviously in one of his more finicky moods, is taking longer than usual checking over the room. He even stood on a chair for a moment to check out the top of the closet. Checking rooms this thoroughly, looking through drawers and underneath things, allows him to scope out possible hiding places for stash. This allows Frank and Jeanine an opportunity to catch someone hiding candy or even drugs in the rooms.
Most other house parents only check kids rooms like this for a specific purpose, and it is a sure sign they are suspicions of something pretty major. Maybe something in the house is missing, or some kid squealed that there are drugs on campus, or something was found or confiscated in another house.
Whatever the reason, when most house parents are this thorough it is a signal to the entire campus that something big is about to go down. Kids start to panic and accuse each other of narcing on them, or come clean with anything they know in exchange for some form of immunity. Frank and Jeanine don’t go for the immunity thing, but telling the truth always makes your punishment less, even when you were telling the truth just to save your neck.
Frank’s tedious room check does not signal any witch hunt, but only that he feels out of touch with our cleaning habits. Frank often checks to see if we are just trying to get by doing the minimal of these kinds of tasks, and Jeanine really focuses on making sure we aren’t slacking off with our schoolwork.
Frank checking all around my bed asks me why there is a little water puddle under my bed. I immediately respond that I don’t know. Looking up at me from the floor, Frank asks me to think about it again. I soon recall Doug splashing me in the face to wake me up, and figure that has to be the answer.
Not wanting to tell on Doug I try to humor my way out of the situation, and say, “maybe I had a wet dream.”
“Oh gross,” Doug says fidgeting even more than usual.
“Your dream’s about to become a nightmare if you don’t tell me where this came from,” Frank shoots back.
I make eye contact with Doug to let him know he needs to come clean. Frank seeing this turns his head to look at Doug. Doug panics and while trying to play dumb pleads, “What? Why is everybody looking at me?”
“You tell me,” Frank offers sternly.
Doug, pauses for a second longer and then comes clean telling Frank about his efforts to get me up. For a little while Doug defends his actions blaming me for forcing him to take such measures, but as he continues his story he slowly owns up to his part.
Frank cautions Doug not to let his anxiety about this weekend cause him to sabotage his home visit. Doug plays dumb to Frank’s point until Frank gives two or three examples of how Doug has blown his home visits at the last moment on previous occasions.
Doug smiles with embarrassment as Frank recounts the past events. Frank has the ability to talk about the mistakes you’ve made in the past without rubbing your nose in it. No matter how long he talks, you never feel nagged or put down. His calm and sense of humor have you feel like he is pulling for you, but he realizes it is your decision. He’ll be there to slap you on the back if you do the right thing, and be there to pick up the pieces if you blow it.
Frank points out to Doug how lucky he is that he pulled such a stunt on me, rather than someone else who would have quickly reacted to his challenge. Without saying a word they both know Frank’s talking about Doug’s older brother, David, whose volatile reactions always get Doug into mondo trouble.
Like most brothers they spend most all their time together pulling each other’s strings and setting each other up. Doug and David, though, have a tendency to take it a little too far. Sometimes their fights get so out of control that the cops have to be called to come and break it up.
Doug’s coming clean as quickly and as sincerely as he does probably saves his home visit. The negatives he gets from Frank still leave him with a little point cushion as we go downstairs for breakfast. If Doug would have lost his cool, he would have got a few huge consequences making it almost impossible for him to get enough points to get home.
“Way to keep it together,” I say to Doug as we speed down the stairs.
“Was there ever a doubt?” crows Doug trying to sound as cool as he can.
Once downstairs Doug turns his collar up and struts off to the kitchen. “Don’t get too smug, Doug,” I warn playfully, “Jeanine could be around the next corner.”
Doug opens his mouth up real wide in mock horror and hits me on the shoulder as we walk through the family room. By the time we get to the kitchen my words have sunk through his thick skull and Doug’s rooster strut is history.
Looking through the cabinets I find only Cheerios and some institutional sized generic corn flakes. Now, the rest of the guys have no recourse than to deal with the fact they were about to scarf down some of the blandest, stalest food this side of a two month old care package.
Me, hey, I am off a point card, and I can get whatever the house has to offer. Just as “Master Card” has its privileges, so does no card at Park Grove Academy.
“Where’s Jeanine,” I ask?
“She’s in the office listening to Will’s whining,” offers Kyle in his typical nasal drawl.
“Yah, I’d say his home visit is trashed by now,” adds Peter sounding depressed as usual.
Peter really gets on my nerves. He was one of those psychiatric hospital junkies, who fakes a suicide attempt every few weeks in an attempt to get back to the hospital. Whenever anything doesn’t go his way, the maggot scratches his wrists or writes the most idiotic suicide notes and leaves them where every one can find them. His name is Peter Katz, but I call him Peter Catatonic, for he is such a zombie.
When Larry showed up, I was hoping Jeanine and Frank would stick him with Peter. After living with Larry for a few weeks, Peter would truly know what it would be like to fear for his life. An ape like Larry might get Peter to stop his games, for Larry would make sure one of Peter’s “attempts” was successful. Instead of getting a whole bunch of attention and sympathy with his suicide games, he would find Larry a most enthusiastic accomplice in facilitating his demise.