Monte

Things have gotten better since my last journal entry. Since my school realized that I was telling the truth and not having sex in Mrs. Framer’s room, they’ve decided to only give me a couple of days of in-school suspension; not alternative schooling.

In-school suspension (ISS), is the second to worst punishment my school gives. It’s the same as traditional suspension, only instead of not going to school, you stay at school in a room all day with other ‘bad kids’ in little cubicles and do the work that your teachers assign for you to do.

On Monday morning, the day that I went back to school for the first time, my parents and I had to have a meeting with Mr. Wallace, the principal, and Mr. Garcia, the assistant principal. This was the meeting that would determine what my punishment would be. However, before going to the meeting that morning, my parents and I first had to go to the recommended family counselor. When I previously mentioned counseling in my last journal entry, I said that they were going to teach me “good decision making,” however the meeting turned out to be more like visiting an actual psychiatrist.

I must admit that the counseling session was quite possibly the best thing happened to me the entire day. My parents and I walked into Mark’s office (the counselor’s name was Mark), and we sat down on a couch opposite of a plush leather chair. Mark sat down with us in his leather chair and first asked why we had come. I explained to Mark the entire story of what had happened at school. After I spilled my guts about what I had done, the counselor asked both of my parents what their concerns were.

My mom began by telling Mark that she felt scared for me. She told him that I had never done anything like this before and her concern was that she felt I wasn’t handling my sexuality appropriately. She said, “I don’t think he has an outlet for the way he feels… [pause]… about his sexuality.”

My dad then stated his own concerns which followed somewhere along the lines of what my mom had said. I remembered that earlier that week when my dad and I were driving to the cemetery to visit my grandmother’s grave, he had told me some of his concerns, a lot of which he never mentioned to the counselor: “I just fear for your safety. You shouldn’t be going around waving your flag. If you want to go out and fuck around with every guy out there and get AIDS, then wait until you turn 21, but until then, you abide by my rules.”

When my parents were asked to leave the room and it was just me and the counselor talking alone, he asked me what some of my own concerns were. That’s when I brought up what my dad had said about “going out and fucking around with every guy.” I told Mark that one of my concerns was my dad’s own ignorance about homosexuality. I told Mark that I was disappointed with my dad because his statement made it sound as if he almost expected me go out and screw around as a result of my homosexuality. I also told Mark that I was concerned about my mother’s unwillingness to talk about my sexuality. I told him about the first time I came out, which was to my mother, and how I blurted it out to her and she responded by getting angry and telling me to go and tell my father I was gay… as if when I’d tell my dad, he would beat the shit out of me and I’d think twice about being gay. At that point in the conversation with Mark, I began to cry. It felt extremely embarrassing, because I’ve seen myself cry in a mirror before and I look very dopey with my lip trembling and my face swelling up like a red balloon.

Earlier in the meeting, my parents had told the counselor how great of a kid I am. My mom told him how I never get in trouble, how I never get tardies in school, how I’m such a good student and always do my homework, and how I’m self motivated and never have to be told to do something. The counselor had looked slightly confused at all of this. I guess he had somewhat expected for me to be the “typical problem child in counseling.” He responded to this by telling my parents that they were extremely lucky to have a son like me. “Most teens at this age are always rebelling against their parents. In cases like this, what you’ve told me about your son seems very abnormal.” I just smiled at the guy and chuckled.

Later, when the counselor and I were talking alone, he told me that I seemed very scared to disappoint my parents more than anything. He also said something that brightened up my entire week: “It also seems that your parents are a little neurotic.” –He came to this conclusion after I told him about how my parents rarely let me out of the house, and how I’ve only gone out with friends a total of 5 times in my entire life.” — So yes, I was very pleased with his ability to genuinely understand my situation. He further explained to me that “neurotic” meant a type of nervousness, and my parents seem to have a nervousness about overprotection. Later on when my parents came back into the room, Mark tried to explain to them the nature of the problem that he saw. He explained it as mildly as he could to my parents without downright coming out and telling them that the problem lied mostly with them. As he put it, “there is a problem with the family system.”

I was very happy after my first counseling session and am actually looking forward to the next time we meet this coming Tuesday. I was just so happy to hear somebody, an intelligent adult, tell me that it wasn’t all my fault. I know I’m not a bad kid. I know I made a stupid mistake, but I also know that not everything it my fault, and the counselor understood this.

After the counseling session, my parents and I went to my school to hear what my punishment would be. My day was downhill from there. My two assistant principals dragged everything out for as long as possible. They first started to ask me question upon question about “what I thought I did wrong” and “how will I succeed in the future after this incident.” They made me sit there and admit to them all of my mistakes. I wanted to throw up. And then Mr. Garcia turned around and adds to the conservation: “I just want you to know how disappointed you’ve made me.” He said this with his head down and his shoulders slumped. I wanted to hit him. Two minutes ago the man didn’t even know what my fucking name was, didn’t even know what I looked like, and only new my school I.D. number: 120309.

After I was persecuted for awhile, they told me to leave the room so that they could talk with my parents alone, as if I had no damn business in it. Later I learned they had told my parents that they “should be spending more time with their son.” — As if they were prime examples of family men and had the right to give advice.

Anyways, since I’ve been back at school, all of my teachers and friends have asked about me. Mrs. Framer ended up ranting to all of her classes about how I had destroyed her trust and disappointed the entire debate squad. And then at lunch she kicked me out of her room and told me to never come back again. I ended up eating lunch alone by the side of the school. None of the kids from any of her classes will talk to me now and it’s spread around school that I’m gay. All of my teachers have asked about me and I told them the story and explained to them that I didn’t have sex… Overall, I’d have to say that life’s a bitch…

…but it’s getting less bitchier as time goes on. Hopefully this will all be behind me soon.

Be sure to check out my new ‘art’ section.