Chapter Seventeen - Welton Public School

“This thing is so stupid.” I complained from my car seat, pulling unhappily at the clip-on tie pinned to my neck.

It was pale blue, featuring a repeating cartoon image of a bright yellow golden retriever puppy chewing contentedly on a bone. It matched the rest of my outfit. In preparation for the mysterious meeting at the school that afternoon, Mom had forced me into an uncomfortable semi-formal get up - each tight-fitting element accented with ridiculous doggy-themed features. My belt had silhouettes of brown chocolate Labradors galloping merrily across a green field; my pumpkin orange corduroy trousers featured a large appliqué of a panting border collie on the back pocket; even my shirt wasn’t safe - the plain white fabric littered with silly embroidered pictures of a sausage dogs playfully chasing their own tails.

Mom and Dad seemed to ignore my complaints as we pulled into the public school parking lot. It was mostly empty, since it was summer. The red brick building looked weathered. It was probably as old as the town itself; even the blue letters of ‘Welton Public School’ had faded from the sun. I unclipped the car seat and awkwardly opened the door, clambering out. Mom kneeled down to my level, adjusting my hair and tie so everything was just so.

“You look very handsome Cooper.” Mom praised me. “Like a little gentleman.”

“I look like a dork.” I complained. I didn’t hate the belt or the shirt or even the tie on their own, but I didn’t like wearing them all together one bit. The doggy theme was just too cutesy, making it blindingly obvious that I’d been dressed by my mother.

Dad led us into the building. I had been told it was just a routine meeting with the guidance counselor, but everything seemed suspiciously tense that morning. The way Mom had wanted me to look sharp, Dad taking me to the construction site - something definitely felt off.

In the main office Dad spoke with the secretary, putting a possessive hand on my head. “We have a meeting with Mr Harris today regarding Cooper Young.” He told them.

The secretary, a short blonde haired woman with black glasses, nodded knowingly - staring at her computer screen. Eventually, she turned to look at us, squinting through her lenses. “The counselor would like to meet with the parents alone before meeting Cooper.” She stated matter of factly, looking me directly in the eye. She was being perfectly polite, but her glare made me shiver all over in fright. “Cooper, please wait out in the hall.”

Mom smiled and whispered goodbye before the two of them walked away. I lingered aimlessly in the empty hall for a while, noticing some benches lined up outside the principal’s office. Even though I wasn’t in any trouble, I instinctively felt my tummy grumble in anguish. They were clearly meant for misbehaving students to stew on before meetings with the principal.

I sat down and kicked my feet back and forth, looking around the empty space. It was a little eerie looking down the dimly lit halls. Canadian schools didn’t seem all that different from the ones in America. Sure the flags were different and there were some different classes to take, like French for example, but it was mostly the same. So why did the guidance counselor need to see me?

Just then I heard the squeak and skid marks of someone’s sneakers approaching around the corner. Craning my neck to get a better look, my jaw dropped. There, carrying a big box and wearing his cub scout uniform, was Nate. My lips flopped open and closed like a fish blowing bubbles.

“No way.” Nate gasped and set the box down, carelessly clattering around whatever was inside. “If it isn’t Oopsy Coopsy.”

“Nate.” I squeaked out, shocked to see him in this setting. “W-what are you doing here?”

“My Aunt is making me help move some classrooms.” He dismissed, sounding a little nonchalant. “But what are you doing here?”

I didn’t know what to say. Nate still thought I was five! What Grade would put me in? Grade One? Kindergarten? “Transferring schools.” I told him truthfully.

“Aww is little Oopsy Coopsy having trouble with his school work?” Nate said mockingly, stalking closer so that he was standing in front of me, leaning against the wall with a hand above my head.

As uncomfortable as I was, I couldn't really argue. I was having trouble with the Canadian homework I’d got, especially French. “French is new.” I blurted out.

Nate’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “You’re learning French?” He asked nosely.

“Yeah…” I said unsure. Really, I hadn’t done much of the French homework at all, but why had Nate said it like that?

“Seems like a hard topic for a bed wetting little brown tailed beaver kit, doesn’t it?” He mocked in a sing-song voice.

“Leave me alone.” I demanded and turned my head away. I felt so trapped with him hovering over me. Why couldn’t he just leave already?

Nate darted forward, snatching my chin in his dusty dry hand and turning my head back. He squeezed the lower part of my face in his strong grip, forcing apart my little pink lips. My own hands gripped the wooden slats of the bench I was sitting on, but in my fear I was only able to let out a high pitched squeal. “I don’t think so.” He whispered.

Nate let go all too quickly as the click clack of heels approached. When the door opened, the school secretary gave us a curious look through her large lensed glasses.

“Welcome to Welton Public School Cooper, I’ll see you later.” Nate blurted out in that weirdly cheery voice he reserved for when grown-ups were around. I was stunned, rubbing my chin a little from where he grabbed it. He nodded politely to the secretary and picked up his box again.

“They are ready for you now Cooper.” She told me and reached out her hand. I took her hand wordlessly, the fearful stupor from my encounter with the bully quickly replaced with tense dread at what the meeting might hold.

She led me through the hallway of offices until we found the one labeled ‘Mr Harris’ she knocked and I went in, heart in my throat.

The office was different than I had expected, more like a conference room. On one side sat three unfamiliar adults reviewing some homework - my summer homework I realized, recognizing my handwriting. I sat across from them in the empty chair between my parents, Dad on my left and Mom on my right. I felt uneasy. Five adults gathered all in one room - just to discuss me! It didn’t sit right.

“So you must be Cooper.” the portly man in the center announced, his beady eyes looking at me. “I’m Mister Harris, the school guidance counselor.” He motioned to the women on his right, a young looking woman in her twenties. “This is Miss Miller, our grade five teacher.” He then motioned to the woman on his left, a slightly older woman. “This is Mrs Brown, our grade six teacher.”

I looked nervously at Mrs Brown. She would be my teacher that year it seemed. She looked like the kind of person who would give a detention at the slightest misstep. She looked down at me from her glasses while Miss Miller gave me a smile.

“Am I in trouble?” I blurted out suddenly, the tension getting the better of me.

“You aren’t in any trouble Cooper.” Miss Miller said sweetly. “We just want to talk about your transfer paperwork.”

I nodded and looked at the collection of folders on the conference table. I could see the name of my old schools labeled on some envelopes, next to the small box of all the summer homework I had managed to complete. Mrs. Brown adjusted her glasses and leaned out of her chair, as if observing me from head to foot. I felt all the more self conscious in my puppy themed clothes. “Cooper.” She stated opaquely. “How did you find the homework?”

I had known we were going to talk about all the homework, but it still felt like an interrogation. “Fine.” I said uneasily. “Like normal homework.” What exactly did they want me to say about it?

“You didn’t complete it. Was it too challenging?” Mrs Brown suggested with an accusatory tone. She picked up a black duotang labeled, ‘Grade Four and Five French’. “Your French work was barely touched - and you needed to catch up two years worth!”

I flinched. If I was being honest I was hoping to skip French all together - but apparently it was some weird Canadian requirement. “Yeah.” I agreed meekly. “French was hard.”

She dropped the booklet back into the box with a slap of the paper and fetched my math book. “This wasn’t done well either. What did your previous teachers go over with you?” Mrs Brown demanded.

I shifted in my seat, looking at my parents for support - but they had worrisome looks on their faces just the same as me. I felt even more awful. I was embarrassing them! “I learned the same thing twice when I moved schools.” I tried to explain. “I just completed that part.”

Again, she plopped the red worn math folder on top of the black french book. Relentless, she grabbed the next book - social studies and geography. “This was very poorly done as well. Did you even read the required readings for history?” She pestered.

I started getting upset. I had read the required readings, but it was all just so boring and the assignments were nothing but endless paragraphs and short answer questions.

“I-I tried to finish it.” I told her with a crack in my voice.

“Well clearly you didn’t try hard enough.” she remarked with an authoritarian tut, slamming the social studies textbook conclusively down atop the others with the palm of her hand. I flinched back from the loud noise, letting out a high pitched moan of terror. “Honestly!” Mrs Brown continued. “I’ve seen better work from third graders.”

I sniffled, much too upset to properly defend myself. I looked up from the ground, eyes starting to water and lip trembling as I struggled to find the right words. “What about my English?” I finally stuttered. I was pretty good at English - especially when I got to write stories.

“Mostly adequate.” Mrs Brown dismissed. “But your handwriting and spelling need some serious attention.”

I deflated, my defenses worn down. The sixth grade teacher was still staring at me, her red framed half-moon glasses accentuating the steely strict glint of her penetrating brown eyes. “I’m s-sorry…” I managed to mumble penitently, crumbling beneath her glare “I really did try… but I couldn’t do it!”

Mrs Brown let out a sarcastic guffaw “I can see that!” she remarked, indicating the books. “Some of this work is just…” she tutted again, shaking her head in disbelief “Well, really!”

“I can see you tried, Cooper.” Miss Miller interjected - cutting off the other teacher. She smiled sweetly, managing to coax the same from me. “All we can ever ask is that you try your best - and that goes for both me and Mrs Brown.” There was an awkward silence, the two teachers exchanging a momentary glance. I wasn’t sure, but I sensed just a hint of unspoken animosity between them.

Frowning uncomfortably at the conflict, Mr Harris intervened - putting a calming hand down on the desk. “Let’s talk about options.” he said conclusively, moving swiftly on with his agenda. “We could arrange for tutoring, or catch-up classes - but after speaking to both grade teachers and your parents, Cooper, I think we’re all in agreement that the best solution is for you to repeat the grade.”

I was struck dumb, starting to shake all over. He couldn’t mean that! He just couldn’t! My heart started beating faster. I didn’t want to lose a whole year. I looked at the adults in the room, feeling almost betrayed. This is what they must have been discussing - they must have all wanted me to repeat the fifth grade. Why else would they have arranged this whole meeting? “Re-repeat the grade?” I finally managed to whisper, a little snot starting to run out my nose and tears finally starting to stream down my face like torrential rain flowing down city gutters. I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to throw up so badly. “I don’t…I don’t wanna…” I tried to assert, but trailed off, shoulders shaking so hard I could barely breathe.

Sensing my distress, Mom put a comforting hand around my shoulder - half pulling me out my chair so that my head was snuggled against her chest. Usually I would have been embarrassed, but I was so upset I let it happen - hiding my teary eyes in her smart cardigan. “Is this really the best option?” Mom asked skeptically. “He’s not a bad boy. He just struggles to concentrate sometimes.”

Mom reached into her big purse and pulled out a teddy bear, my teddy bear; the one dressed up like a boy scout that I’d got for my tenth birthday. She pushed it into my arms and I greedily snatched the soft fur, squeezing it in my fist.

I sat up again, negotiating my way out of Mom’s cuddle as I struggled to pull myself together with the help of my familiar teddy. I glimpsed momentarily over at Mrs Brown. She was still frowning, but some of her harshness was gone, replaced with a bemused upward curl of her lips - as if taken off guard by the sight of my breakdown. I wondered what she thought of me. I supposed most kids who got held back were nothing like I was. They probably misbehaved, or got in trouble, or were bullies like Nate. Maybe that’s why she was being so mean before. Now however, she had seen the truth. It was like Mom said. I wasn’t a bad kid. I wasn’t a problem child. I was just stupid. A big stupid baby!

I felt a fresh wave of tears threatening to break forth, struggling to hold them back with deep calming breaths. I looked to Miss Miller for comfort, and she reached into her purse, offering me a large wad of tissues. I reached for them gratefully, letting her stroke my hand with her soft comforting fingertips as I took them before I hid my face again in my bear - crying freely.

Meanwhile, the grown-ups continued with their conversation. It sounded as if they were mostly reciting whatever conversation they had had while I was out in the hall - though now I was there to lend my token permission. “...In the end however, it’s up to Cooper.” Mr Harris concluded, pausing to stare directly at me. “Are you okay now? Do you want to weigh in?”

I pulled back the tissues, showing my red-eyed snot-wrecked face as they all looked at me expectantly. They were all saying I had a choice, but I knew I didn't, not really. It was what they were recommending after all. My homework was abysmal - I knew it was. Would I even stand a chance of keeping up in Grade Six? There were the teachers as well; they were like night and day - Mrs Brown so mean, and Miss Miller so kind and gentle. Then there was Nate. The adults knew nothing about the biggest factor weighing on my decision - the huge lumbering bully waiting outside in the hallway. The thought of facing him in class every day was almost as bad as facing Mrs Brown!

“Okay…” I squeaked, barely conscious of the words forming on my lip as I acquiesced to a decision I knew had really been made for me long long ago. “I’ll stay in grade five…” Saying the words out loud made me start to hiccup, like my mind was forcing my body to agree against its will. Dad reached over and placed a hand on my knee, giving it a squeeze. I held my teddy bear closer to my chest and placed my chin on his head, feeling smaller and more pathetic than ever before. I had failed, and completely wasted the year to boot. I wondered what my parents thought of me.

Miss Miller walked around the table and knelt down so that we were eye to eye, she took my hand and looked at me sympathetically with her green eyes. “I’m looking forward so much to having you in my class.” She said sweetly.

I didn’t know how to respond, I didn’t want to be in her class, I didn’t want any of this. “Yeah.” I grieved. I Sniffed in a deep breath, staring at the women who would become my third fifth grade teacher.

“We will have so much fun. I know you will do well.” She said confidently, and stood up. “I’ll see you on the first day, okay?”

I nodded to her wordlessly, too afraid that any further conversation would just bring out my tears again. The meeting concluded briefly after that, the grown ups just going over simple logistics about what I needed to bring on the first day and what classroom I was going to be in. I didn’t pay attention, too overwhelmed with my own grief to care.

I held my Mom’s hand tightly as we left the meeting, worried about seeing Nate again in the hallway - but I never did. Mom and Dad could tell I was utterly devastated. They took me for ice cream, which cheered me up a little bit - but not nearly enough. Mom and Dad told me I didn’t need to finish the rest of the homework and that I should just enjoy the rest of the summer. I nodded silently in agreement, but I didn’t know how I could. It felt like the end of the world.