I Pity The Fool

Today was kind of a messed-up day at work, for a variety of reasons, but I’m only going to talk about the most important part. 

So I started seeing my first counseling case at this job a couple of weeks: I’ll call the student KS.  This was somewhat controversial in and of itself, since most people were supportive, except for the social worker whose office is next to mine (bitter old lady who has told people she thought there was something untoward between me and the 60-year-old, married, Republican assistant principal).  However, KS was referred to me by one of the other social workers, and we both felt it would be a good case for me, and beneficial to the student.  Initially, we went through the sort of "honeymoon" phase that you can experience with a new patient, who behaves well, thinks highly of you, etc.  Later, I began to question whether he was manipulating me, which is very common amongst the jail population…mainly, I was concerned because of the fact that he winds up using my phone almost every time I see him.  This is not against the rules, but most of the other clinicians are a lot more strict about phone usage.  He always seems to have a good reason…but what if he’s just making it up?  Or, even if it’s all true, I still really shouldn’t let him take advantage of my good will…he’s in jail…which means losing privileges (like being able to use a phone when you feel like it).  The social worker who referred KS to me normally only lets each student use his phone once.  I have no idea how many times I’ve let KS use it.  On the other hand, I can see the therapeutic value of letting a person touch base with his pregnant girlfriend, sick mother, etc…assuming it’s all true…

So anyway, another problem with KS is that he’s been engaging in some other inappropriate behaviors, such as walking unescorted back and forth between the different trailers that make up our school and showing up at my office (I’ve specifically asked him not to do this, more than once); also, pestering any staff member whom he thinks might run into me around school (to give me messages or demand that I see him).  Today was going to be the day where we discuss Boundaries in a bit more detail than in previous conversations.  I discussed this with the assistant principal, the social worker who referred KS, and (informally) my friend A. the art teacher: as a matter of fact, KS was bugging almost everyone he saw in the school today (teachers AND officers) about coming to see me.  After lunch, he showed up unescorted at my office again, and claimed that the officers told him he could do it.  I calmly explained to him that I had scheduled him for 10 minutes later, and walked him back to his classroom, as Rules are Rules.

Then he told me that he’d just found out his grandfather died.

Now mind you, this was unrelated to his behavior in the morning, or on earlier occasions.  He’d literally just learned the sad news that afternoon, having passed by his mother’s boyfriend in the hall, who is also incarcerated right upstairs from KS.  While I am pretty sure that I still did the right thing, I couldn’t help feeling a little bit conflicted and even guilty for the way I treated him.  Life can be shitty, especially in jail, and especially for someone who was dealt a rough hand from early in life.  I picked him up at my scheduled time for his appointment with me, and we talked about it as much as he was able.  I had been planning to cut off his phone usage, for the time being at least…but I had to make a decision.  There was certainly a possibility that he was lying- I mean, even kids in regular school have been known to do that (like didn’t Zach Morris’s grandmother on Saved By the Bell supposedly die 6 times or whatever?).  But I decided to believe him.  I let him call his mother.  He cried on the phone, and told her in Spanish that he wished he could go to Puerto Rico for the funeral.  Then he called his grandmother, who was with his girlfriend, and spoke to both of them.  Although I’m not fluent in Spanish, I can understand enough to get the gist of his conversation…and to know when he’s telling them that he doesn’t want to speak English because he’s sitting in my office.  I had a really hard time getting him off the phone, and that made me feel disrespected.  We had time at the end to talk about whether or not we can trust each other.  Based on some suggestions from the social worker, I asked KS if he trusted me (he said yes), and if so, that he will have to trust me to come and pick him up for our appointments.  I asked if I can trust him, and I reiterated my concerns about phone usage, which we’d discussed the last time we saw each other.  At the same time, I didn’t really want to go deeply into it, because I was afraid of being harsh to a kid who just lost his grandfather…to a kid who’s in jail…to a kid who hears NO almost all the time in one form or another…to a kid who has rarely had any dependable, caring adults in his life (one being the person who just died).

I think I handled it as best as I could, but it still hurt me a little bit.

I’m sitting in an easyInternet cafe.  The first computer I used froze mid-GoogleMap; this one has a messed-up "e" and spacebar, but I’m too lazy to logout, get up, and login a third time at this point.  Today is my last chance to run around Amsterdam (as I think we are spending all day tomorrow in Utrecht), and I already feel like I’m sort of wasting the morning away…mainly because I thought this place would open at 9, so I planned my walking itinerary around that…when I got here and learned it wouldn’t be open til 10, I wandered around for an hour, bought breakfast, etc.  Not much is open at 9; guess it’s because most people walking around at that hour are on their way to work, although I did see some hardcore smokers through the window of one of the famous "coffeeshops."  I guess the idea of a wake-n-bake takes on new meaning here, since you can theoretically do it in public, while eating an omelette or whatever…as most of you must know, it’s a non-issue for me!

Anyway, it’s been a whirlwind few days here.  I haven’t minded sightseeing on my own, since I go back to Leiden and have dinner and TV time with K. every night!  I think my main expense while here has been the daily train tickets, but that still amounts to a fraction of what it would have cost me to stay in a decent hotel around here.  Plus, it’s been neat to see some of the cities in the surrounding area: Leiden, Delft, Den Haag (aka The Hague), and tomorrow- Utrecht.

That’s all for now, folks, since it’s past time I got off my rear end and headed out.  And speaking of my rear end, thank goodness I’m doing so much walking, or I might be a bit worried about the lasting effects of all the chocolate, pancakes, sausages et al. that they have around here!

Proost!

Oh my gosh, it’s like they know what I’m thinking…!
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Subject
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I live in the 11215-4302 zip code. The closest post office is the Van Brunt s…

Customer ([ELIZ D-B don't want my full name on my blog]) - 02/11/2007 08:45 PM
I live in the 11215-4302 zip code.  The closest post office is the Van
Brunt station on 9th Street (11215-9997).  For years, I have noticed
that the service at this P.O. tends to be slow: in fact, so slow that
it’s often faster for me to walk an extra several blocks to the Park
Slope P.O. at 198 7th Avenue (11215-9993), get served there, and walk
back.  Although there are 5 service windows at the Van Brunt P.O.,
there are rarely enough postal clerks working at any given
time.  Although some of the clerks are efficient and polite, there are
others who seem to spend a lot of time walking around slowly and
ignoring customers.  I am accustomed to waiting an inordinate amount of
time on most visits to this P.O., but yesterday (Saturday 2/9/07) was
even worse.  It makes no sense to understaff
a P.O. on a Saturday, which is the day that most working people need to
spend on errands like mailing or receiving items.  The window normally
reserved for package pick-up was closed, forcing everyone to wait on
one line and also extending the length of time between customers (since
the regular clerks would have to go and search for packages).  There
were only 1 or 2 windows open, further slowing down the line, and all
of us needed customer service from a human (as opposed to the Automated
Postal Clerk machine, or the defunct stamp vending machine in the
corner that eats money).  Additionally, there was confusion with people
who were there waiting for the passport window to open.  Lastly, many
of the customers had no choice about going to a different post office,
either because they
were required to pick up a package at this location, or because the one
at 225 Prospect Park West (11215-9992) is closed on the weekend.  This
only adds to the customer backup!
I have used post offices in many cities around the U.S. and overseas as
well.  The Van Brunt P.O. may be the one with the worst staffing I’ve
ever experienced.  Although the service is slow there virtually every
day, the weekend is the time that the most people would need to visit
the post office.  I’m sure there’s no shortage of workers who could use
the income from working on a Saturday, so why not fill the shift?
Thank you for your consideration.
[Eliz D-B still don't want my full name on my blog]

As our customer, your privacy is important to us.  Please see our privacy policy at www.usps.com
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Yesterday was Saturday, which is the day into which I normally cram the majority of my week’s errands and socializing.  I got up bright and early (well, for a 27-year-old on a Saturday morning!) and headed off.  When I got to the bank, the first thing I noticed was a mildly-overpowering stench in the ATM vestibule.  The smell was intense, sort of like a gym-locker full of unwashed
socks, but not as bad as say, the area of my trailer at work that I
once christened the Funk Vortex.*  I just held my breath and took care of business, seeing as how I only needed to make a quick stop.
Next on my list was the post office, where I discovered that apparently, this was also next on the list of the Mysterious Malodorous Offender.  How could that BE? I wondered, before realizing that plenty of other people would need to visit both the bank and the post office on a Saturday morning.  The problem with the post office (or more truly, one of the many problems) is that it happens to be one of the slowest post offices I’ve ever used…on earth…  Perhaps this explains why the stench was palpably stronger, if the Offender had needed to spend a fair amount of time waiting on line.  In any event, I’m almost certain it was the same smell, except this time it was like a whole locker room overflowing with sweaty old socks (and maybe the jockstraps too).  Yick.  Naturally, on this particular sunny Saturday there were only about 1.5 workers stationed at the 5 service windows, which meant one big line for everything (usually there’s a separate, shorter line for package pick-up, if nothing else).  By the time I left, a fight was looming between the irate people waiting for the passport window to open (supposedly at 9:30).  A yuppie mother loudly explained to her whiny kids that "That man doesn’t want to wait on the line and is being very noisy and threatening for no reason."  At least it was a distraction from the smell- either that or the Offender had been far enough ahead of me on the glacially-paced line to have already completed the transaction and left, taking his or her odor along.
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*And by Funk, I mean the body odor of a herd of hormonal adolescent prisoners without access to hot water, not the 1970s musical genre.

I haven’t been updating this blog very regularly at all.  I’m not sure if I’m just too tired in my limited free time, or what.  Sometimes when I’m not home, I think of funny things to share with you, but then I forget about it when I’m home- that or I figure that hardly anyone ever reads this.  I have been busy.
I will share some amusing tidbits.  For starters, has any one heard of the Complaints Choir?  I found out about it on the radio, specifically, the Helsinki Complaints Choir (although the original one is apparently in Birmingham).  It is literally a choir for people to sing original songs based on complaints sent in to them by their compatriots.  The songs are hilarious- choral music with lyrics such as "I don’t like fat women in yellow Jeeps who think they are in charge," etc.  Oh my goodness- if there was a NYC Complaints Choir, I’d join it in a heartbeat.  Or at least send in some suggested complaints- the best part is that you don’t have to just focus on major problems like global warming or the war in Iraq; they can be as self-centered as possible if you wish.  Examples:

• I don’t like people who put their bags on the seat in the train when it’s crowded.
• Some people on the street walk too slowly and take up all the room, but other people are trying to go too fast, and they push you or cut in front of you.  I refuse to acknowledge that I am ever going too slow or too fast.
• My wireless internet doesn’t work in my bedroom.
• The water in my washing machine is too cold.  So, when I wash clothes on "warm," I have to actually put it on "hot" for a few minutes, but not too long  because otherwise it will ruin my clothes.  Then, when I’m doing a "cold" wash, the water is too cold- i.e., if I get soap on my hands or need to push the clothes down under the water, I can’t rinse them in the stream of water coming into the machine.  It’s so cold that it hurts.  But my dad always closes the door to where the sink is, so I get soap all over the doorknob when I go to wash my hands in there.

And so on and so forth.
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I think I’ve discovered the worst possible way to die.  Check it out here.
Okay, so maybe it’s not real.  I did hurt myself yesterday though…specifically, I was at a work-related activity yesterday at the Queens Museum of Art.  In fine-tuning some collage materials with an Exacto Knife, I slipped and gave myself an Exacto Cut, which bled profusely and embarassingly.  In spite of this injury, I had a great time and enjoyed myself much more than our other staff development activity this week, which was a big group workshop at CCNY.  I knew that none of the choices of groups would be germane to my job as a clinician, but I chose the Assessment group because I thought it might be the least irrelevant.  Long story short, only 3 other people signed up for that group because Assessment is boring, so they combined us with the Pedagogy group.  What a nightmare.  Basically, many of the teachers from my school are dumb, and treated this supposed professional skill-building activity as, alternately, a group therapy session and a chance to complain about the Dept. of Corrections to people who can’t do anything about it.  A woman started crying, because an ice breaker activity reminded her of her mother who died, and her brother who’s sick.  Then some of the other teachers who knew her better crowded around, hugging her, crying, etc.  I felt really awkward, and looked around for a clean tissue to offer, but I couldn’t even find one.  Then someone said, "Let us pray."  Someone else mentioned the separation of church and state, and most of the people present agreed that it’s a BAD thing.  During this whole ordeal, the only good part was that my Coworker of Interest (CofI) was there too, so we could roll our eyes at each other…  Not to be insensitive, but these teachers just had no boundaries or sense of what’s appropriate in a staff development activity, and the workshop facilitators didn’t help much by telling us all that we’re doing "God’s work," and later encouraging someone to sing a gospel song.  I won’t bore you with the rest of the details- let’s just say that I wanted to cry too, but from boredom and exhaustion.  The much-touted free lunch was passable, but not as good as it was cracked up to be…basically, the best part of the day was when it ended, and a bunch of us went drinking at a great bar in Harlem (CofI included).
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So, I’m thinking about bringing sexy back, a la Justin Timberlake.  He says to "Get your sexy on!" but I tried my sexy on and it didn’t fit properly.  So I’m thinking about bringing sexy back and exchanging it for a surly instead.  All kidding aside, I have recently purchased a bikini- my first since I was about 7 years old.  I’m hoping it will motivate me to get back in shape, so I’ll feel comfortable actually wearing it.  On the other hand, I usually only swim 0-5 times a year, and hardly ever go to the beach.  The package arrived yesterday, and I tried it on.  It seems like it’s actually too small, so now I have to decide if I want to try to slim down enough to fit into it (doubtful, frankly) or go through the hassle of returning it/trying to get a different size.  Do bathing suits stretch out when they get wet?  Anyway, there was something else in there that I ordered, which also seems like maybe the wrong size, so I might just return all that stuff.  Then again, will the next size up be too big?  Decisions, decisions…sorry to bore you.  But this bikini may be just a little bit too itsy bitsy teeny weeny…
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Well, I’ve managed to while away yet another Saturday afternoon.  I have an hour left to go to the dry cleaners and maybe try to make some sense of some union mail that I received, before heading out for the evening.  Hope all’s well with you.