The Hitting Zone Chapter 296 Jake's Old School 2

Chapter 296 Jake’s Old School 2

Mary approached the office and found a woman near the same age, yet she looked exhausted with hair falling out of her tight bun. Mary knocked on the open door to get her attention. "h.e.l.lo, I'm Mary Atkins. Are you Princ.i.p.al Lambert?"

The haggard woman looked up from her stack of paperwork and tried to focus on Mary. "Mary Atkins? Oh. Right. The foster mom." Mary felt a sting in her chest, but brushed it off. "Just take a seat anywhere you like."

Although the princ.i.p.al said 'anywhere', there was only one available seat that didn't have papers or any type of clutter on it. Mary chose the one clean seat and the princ.i.p.al started pus.h.i.+ng papers aside so they could keep eye contact over the desk.

"I'll be frank with you, Mrs. Atkins." The Princ.i.p.al looked at her, exhibiting pure exhaustion. "I didn't know Jake Hollander personally. The only reason I could recall the name is because we keep records of when, why, and for who we call child services for. I've spoken with his teachers and not one had a personal relations.h.i.+p with him. He's just another student in the crowd of kids that attend this inst.i.tution."

Mary was stunned. "Excuse me? How can you say that about a former student?" Her anger was on the brink of flaring up and las.h.i.+ng out.

"Easy." She gestured at the stacks of paper on her desk. "We're overworked. Underpaid. Understaffed. The student to teacher ratio is a whopping 35 to 1, in a good year. Which is astoundingly bad for an elementary school, but what can I do? The state doesn't give underperforming schools a whole lot of money to work with which makes our scores get even worse. We're lucky if we can just move our students up to the middle school. I really hate seeing our dropout rate compared to the state and national average."

Mary didn't know what to say. On one hand, she was upset that a young Jake could just be referred to as another number but on the other, she could tell that this princ.i.p.al was at her wits end. "Have you thought about applying to grants for underprivileged schools?"

She gestured at one particular stack of papers. "I spend most of my time filling them out and sending them off. If I could get an actual receptionist who cares for her job, that would lessen my load. But who wants to work with a failing school for little pay?" She sighed. "Sorry for ranting. I'm just tired." She turned to the desk behind her and grabbed a manila envelope. She turned back and handed it to Mary. "This is what I could gather and scrounge up for you."

Mary took it, amazed that the disheveled woman had put something together even though she seemed to be drowning in work.

"It's not much so don't get your hopes up." Princ.i.p.al Lambert spoke bluntly. "Most of it, is the report that had to be made when we called child services. The result listed that there was a home visit, but the findings stated that the child wasn't at an imminent risk for death or serious injury."

"What?!" Mary exploded out of her seat. "How did they come to that conclusion?? Do they know how wrong they were??"

"Mrs. Atkins." Princ.i.p.al Lambert sighed. "I'm not the social worker a.s.signed to the case. I just have the report that was made by the teacher and the answer child services gave to us. As for the rest of the information I included, I had his former teachers write out statements of what they remember of him. Fair warning, most have told me that he wasn't very personable and s.h.i.+ed away from making friends. None of them could name a specific friend or cla.s.smate that he was close to."

Mary let out a heavy sigh. An empty avenue. Only more depressing details on his childhood. Right now she just wanted to go home and hold him in a bear hug, but that would never happen. He didn't like to be touch, to be surrounded, or even women that were around his mother's age. She should just be grateful that he was willing to speak a little more each day.

She slowly stood up and forced a smile for pleasantries sake. "Thank you for your time, Princ.i.p.al Lambert. I really appreciate the effort you put in even though it wasn't legally required of you." She glanced at the grant application stack. "If you ever need any help with a recommendation or personal statement for the applications, please reach out to me." She pulled out a business card and handed it over.

Princ.i.p.al Lambert showed a sardonic smile at the card. "A real estate agent won't be too valuable, but thanks for the offer."

Mary stood tall. "I'm not just a real estate agent. I'm a mother. A foster mother. A concerned parent. Someone who believes that kids need opportunities to grow and learn. They need a clean and stable environment filled with safety." She headed for the door. "Just send an email and I'll reply in a day or two. We have to do our best to ensure our kids have a happy future, right?"

"Right..." Princ.i.p.al Lambert watched the woman walk out of her office. A foster parent who came hundreds of miles just to ask about the boys past. She wanted to do more to help, really, she did. She glanced around at her messy desk and office. She did all she could. There were too many students that needed her help. She sighed and got back to work.

Mary walked to her car and checked the time. Still early afternoon. She could still make it to the middle school before they closed for the day.

She placed the envelope of information on her pa.s.senger seat, intending to look it over back at the hotel. She was first upset with the princ.i.p.al's att.i.tude to Jake, but she understood where the lady was coming from. She had to worry about the ma.s.ses first, and not one specific student. Jake probably wouldn't be the only one there with an abusive parent. It's just too bad that Jake has to almost die to get free. If only...if only he had someone to protect him earlier. She held back tears as she drove.

The middle school was less than three miles away and she arrived just as they were getting out, unfortunately. It took her some time to find parking, make her way to the office, and then wait in a line of students and parents that also needed to speak with the front office.

"Yes? How can I help you?" The receptionist here was a lot more welcoming than the one at the elementary school. She looked and acted like a professional.

Mary let out a relieve smile. "Hi. I'm Mary Atkins. Here to see an advisor named Henry Conley? Is he still in?"

The receptionist picked up the landline and dialed a couple of digits. "h.e.l.lo, I have someone named Mary Atkins for Mr. Conley. Is he available?" A pause. "Great. I'll send her back." She hung up and looked up at Mary. "He's in. I'll take you on back real quick." She stood up, rounded the desk and showed Mary the way.

Unlike at the elementary school, the middle school's front office wasn't as empty or desolate. Every office was lit up, filled with employees working with students and parents alike. Mary nodded to herself in satisfaction. This is what a school should be like.