Our school psychologist really is a very special man. We have an enormous number of children who clearly exhibit signs of mental illness but as they have never been formally identified or diagnosed, they tend to just fill up our discipline lists until something someone gets up off their ass and they get identified. Only after consulting with counselors, teachers, administrators, parents, shamans, telephone psychics, chicken entrails, and the stars do we steel ourselves to the inevitable conversation with our school psychologist.
It only took one full year, but I finally got My Little Project identified as having special needs. Of course he failed everything in the mean time and had to repeat the grade, but hey… Better late than never, right? Forget the statistics on the number of kids who repeat a grade who end up dropping out.
He asked which girl was Yolanda and was calmly informed that Yolanda isn’t even her name. In fact, her name isn’t even remotely LIKE Yolanda, and anyway, she hadn’t returned from jail yet. After she had returned, she was sent to his office for their first meeting. At the end of that day, our psychologist approached my colleague:
Psychologist: So I met with her today.
Science Teacher: (realized the idiot has forgotten her name again)… Yes?
Psychologist: Well it was going really well, until she asked to go to the restroom and never came back… (Science Teacher tries not to laugh at both the scenario and the genuinely confused look on the psychologists face. Obviously, the guy has yet to face reality.)
But then comes my favorite part.
Psychologist: I don’t understand it… She’s SUCH a pretty girl…
They stood there in silence for a few moments before my colleague promptly abandoned the conversation, leaving the mind-bogglingly stupid statement to hang in the air like a sagging, semi-deflated helium balloon that says “CREEPY” all over it.