NHS Interview
Public school isn’t for everyone. Many students fall through the cracks and never get back up again. Once in a while, however, a failing child finds a teacher or an adult mentor who sees something in them that makes them want to help. Ren Anonymous Rogers was one of those kids. Although she had failed her Freshman year of high school and was at Claymore Psychiatric Hospital for the first half of her second year, she was well-liked by most of the teachers who got to know her. Sometimes she got into trouble due to skipping school, drinking, doing drugs, and not doing her homework, but she never started fights and she wasn’t a bad kid. She was on the receiving end of all kinds of bullying, however, and when she was locked away in Claymore Hospital, she told her parents that she wasn’t going back to public school. They argued about it, but they knew it was no use trying to get Ren to do anything she didn’t wanna do, so they were prepared to accept the fact that their child was a high school dropout.
Luckily for Ren, while her parents often ignored her needs and didn’t see her as special, those teachers and adult mentors in her life knew that she was greater than anyone gave her credit for and that she was capable of far more than anyone ever imagined. One of those mentors was Ren’s social worker in Claymore Hospital. She insisted that Ren was smart, despite her grades in public school, and that putting Ren in a more supportive environment would make her thrive. She enrolled Ren in New Horizons School in Coolidge Corner, Brookline, a wealthy area of Boston where many Orthodox Jewish people lived. Ren’s parents would not have been able to find or afford the school on their own, but Ren’s social worker convinced Ren’s town to pay for her to go there since they could not give her a proper education in the public school system. It was made possible by a law called Chapter 766.
Ren’s paternal grandfather drove Ren and her mother, Mrs. Rogers, to Coolidge Corner on the day of Ren’s appointment for an interview at New Horizons School. Ren’s father, Mr. Rogers had just been given a promotion with a raise, but it meant that he had to move his main office to New York City while Ren and her family were still living in the suburbs outside of Boston. Mr. Rogers stayed in New York during the week and flew home every other weekend. It was inconvenient, especially since Mrs. Rogers didn’t drive, and Ren was the oldest child at only fifteen years old, so she wasn’t old enough to drive yet either. Ren’s grandfather drove them around most of the time and he drove them into Boston that day, making anti-Semitic comments about the Orthodox Jewish people walking around everywhere. Ren was already well aware that her grandfather was a bigot. He was a cop too. They weren’t close, but he occasionally helped her get around.
After escaping the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Route 93 South, they drove by Bunker Hill, the Boston Garden, and down Storrow Drive. The view of the sparkling Charles River caught Ren’s eye and people were out walking and biking while dressed in layers of clothes. Ren was wearing brown corduroy bell bottoms with a maroon, black, and yellow striped thermal shirt, a brown and tan flannel, three-hole, green Doc Martens, and a maroon, velvet hat that looked like something Linda Perry of the 4 Non-Blondes would wear, over Ren’s long blonde hair that had split ends. She had a striped green and black knit scarf around her neck too, but no jacket because it wasn’t very cold for late January.
After passing the Charles River, the Hatch Shell, and the Esplanade, they made their way up Beacon Street and through Kenmore Square where Ren recognized the landmark Cit-go sign by Fenway Park. They followed the green C-Line train up to Coolidge Corner, past the Coolidge Corner Theater and all kinds of gorgeous brownstone homes and other impressive architecture. There was a tall, intricately designed clock tower right across from the Coolidge Corner T stop. Ren’s jaw practically dropped to the floor as she got a glimpse of the neighborhood where she might go to school. They made their way down a side street, all the way to the end, where they saw a big, fluorescent blue house with a white, wooden sign that said, “New Horizons School” on the front. A couple of alternative-looking kids were on the front steps, smoking cigarettes. The New Horizons School was right next to a beautiful Synagogue. Students were out in the yard playing hackysack, smoking, listening to scream-o punk, and being kind of loud, but they looked like awesome people. Ren knew from the second she walked into that place that she might just belong there.
An older, bald, black man dressed in a sweater, khaki pants, and loafers came to the door to greet them.
“You must be Ren Rogers,” the man said. “I’m Barry. I’ll be doing your intake. You do like to be called Ren, right? We make sure to call everyone by their preferred names.”
“Yeah, I’m Ren. Sometimes I call myself Ren Anonymous, but I understand if you have to call me Ren Rogers,” Ren said.
“Nope. I’ll take note of that. Ren Anonymous, it is. I like that,” Barry said.
“Thanks, I just felt like Ren Rogers sounded too much like a chicken farmer,” Ren said, and Barry laughed. Mrs. Rogers rolled her eyes and Ren’s grandfather was too distracted by the unfamiliar surroundings to be paying attention… plus he couldn’t hear well.
“You must be Ren’s family,” Barry said to Mrs. Rogers and Ren’s grandfather.
“Yes, I’m Karen’s mother, Wendy, and this is my husband’s father, Edward. My husband couldn’t be here today, unfortunately. He just started a new job in New York,” Mrs. Rogers said.
“That sounds exciting. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna take Ren up to my office for some tests. It could take a couple of hours. You’re welcome to wait in the front office, or if you’d prefer, Coolidge Corner is right up the street, and I’d encourage you to go take a look around there and see where Ren’ll be eating lunch every day if she decides to come to school here,” Barry said.
“Okay, well, I guess we could do that, right, Ed?” Mrs. Rogers said to her father-in-law.
“What’s that?” Ren’s grandfather asked.
“They want us to go up the street to see what’s up there. You wanna go for a walk?” Mrs. Rogers asked.
“You wanna talk?” he asked.
“No, a walk,” Mrs. Rogers repeated.
Ren’s grandfather still looked confused, but he was Mrs. Rogers’ problem.
“Why don’t you follow me up to my office,” Barry said.
“Okay,” Ren replied.
“So that was the Front Office, or ‘Up Front,’ as we call it. Martha sits at the desk all day, usually, but she was out today with the flu. She’ll be the one who talks with your transportation company, if you have one,” Barry said.
“Yeah, I think they said Wicked Good Cab Company was gonna be taking me to and from school and that my town is actually gonna pay for it?” Ren asked. She couldn’t believe that was true. Her town never did shit to help. They just abused her.
“Yep. Most of the students here come in cabs. A few of the older students drive their own cars or ride their motorcycles, but everyone comes from different parts of Eastern Massachusetts and are between the ages of fifteen to twenty-two, so you’d be one of our youngest. One of our other younger students actually rides his bicycle to school every day, and he lives all the way down near Rhode Island. He’s very dedicated to learning. Do you like to learn?” Barry asked.
“Um, yeah, I mean, I think I like to learn, but I’m probably not that dedicated. I haven’t always liked school,” Ren admitted.
“Well, that’s an entirely different question,” Barry said. They had passed through a big open hallway with a beautiful wooden staircase, but they didn’t go up. Next, they walked into what looked like a kitchen or a small cafeteria. There were a few tables, and students were reading newspapers, drawing, and hanging out with cups of coffee in front of them. A coffee maker and piles of disposable cups sat on the counter next to several boxes of cereal, a sugar bowl, and non-dairy creamer. A mini fridge was hidden underneath with milk for the cereal, and they had a soda machine in the corner. The walls were decorated with colorful, framed art and black-and-white photography.
“This is the Rec Space,” Barry said. “People hang out in here to eat, get coffee, read the paper, play games, or whatever they feel like. It gets crowded in the morning, although we’re a small school; only forty-four students, total. There’s usually about eight students per class. We leave the coffee maker on all day, as well as a hot water machine if you prefer tea or hot chocolate. We provide all of that for free, plus cereal in the morning. You can drink your beverages in class, but food is only allowed in here. You’ll probably eat your lunch up the street with the other students though.”
“Okay. Cool,” Ren said as she looked around at an extremely diverse group of students scattered throughout the school. She could feel them looking at her with curiosity, but they didn’t look at her with hate the way the kids in her town did. She hoped they’d be kind of like the kids she met in the psych ward. Her social worker said they would be.
“Hey Barry, did I tell you I got the job working at Rocky Horror on the weekend?” a young man in a trench coat with long hair, glasses, a goatee, and a bald spot said to Barry. Ren figured he must have been one of the twenty-two-year-old students because he looked old to her.
“Congratulations Leo! That’s great! Are you still playing Dungeons and Dragons?” Barry asked.
“Yeah, of course. There’s a big group of us now that meets at a comic book store in Harvard Square. I step into another dimension whenever I’m seen there,” Leo said and lifted his trench coat over his head, hiding underneath. He was kind of geeky, but Ren liked geeks better than the popular, “normal” kids in public school, so she thought he might be okay.
They passed through a door in the Rec Space that led back outside, to a ramp and stairs, which led to a small yard and parking lot. The students who were smoking and playing hackysack earlier had stopped their game and were putting out their butts and heading back inside.
“Don’t be nervous, but we have to do a few tests,” Barry said as they opened the door to another building with classrooms and open cubbies that had books, Walkmans, hats, and other stuff stacked against the walls.
“Your unlocker will probably be back here. That’s where you can put your stuff, and there’s a hook underneath for your jacket. Today’s pretty warm though, isn’t it?” Barry said.
“Yeah. I think it’s the sun,” Ren said. She was a little worried about having an unlocker rather than a regular locker with closed doors because she was so disorganized, but she thought maybe it would force her to organize better. On the other hand, she also noticed that a lot of the unlockers were quite messy anyway, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if hers was too.
The walls of the back building were decorated with framed art by the talented students and couches were lined up along some of the other walls, under the unlockers. Ren was looking at the art, feeling impressed but intimidated, as well as deeply connected to it all.
“Do you like art?” Barry asked.
“Yeah, I love it,” Ren said.
“You must be an artist,” Barry said.
“Kind of,” Ren replied. She was looking down, feeling like she couldn’t confidently call herself an artist compared to the artists who did the art on the walls of NHS.
“Well, you’ll love it here if you’re an artist of any kind, but first I need to ask you an important question,” Barry said.
“Um, okay,” Ren said, anxiously. They walked up a narrow staircase to an office with comfy chairs all over it. Barry sat in a brown leather chair and Ren sat in a wicker dish chair with a red cushion and started to pick at her nails. Barry had the poster from Bob Dylan’s Self Portrait album hanging on his office wall and Ren’s face lit up when she saw it.
“I have that poster!” Ren blurted out. She could never pass up an opportunity to talk about music.
“Oh really? That’s a classic, right there. I think he’s one of the best poets of my generation. I know the music may not be for everyone, but when I listen to the lyrics I can understand why he makes his voice so hard to ignore,” Barry said.
“Yeah, I used to hate him when I was little. My dad used to sing his songs with my uncles when they were drunk and it was terrible and wicked embarrassing, but I saw a movie called ‘Dogfight’ with River Phoenix and Lili Taylor and she played the song ‘Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright’ for him on the record player and I fell in love with it. I went down to the basement to get my parents’ old records and record player and I haven’t been the same since,” Ren said.
“Well, it sounds like you’re a true music lover,” Barry said.
“Yeah, I guess… so what are we doing?” Ren asked.
“Take a deep breath,” Barry said. He could tell Ren was anxious.
She took a breath.
“So my first question is, do you have a history of getting into fights?” Barry asked.
“Fights? No!” Ren said as she leaned forward, “Unless you mean that time in eighth grade when I got my ass kicked on the last day of school; but I didn’t touch her! All I did was walk into the room and I got jumped! The whole class ganged up on me, even the teacher,” Ren said, honestly reliving the trauma of her last day of eighth grade.
“Well, that doesn’t sound like your fault. Have there been other times?” Barry asked.
“No...I mean, unless you count what happened at the group home I was just in. Some kid was in my room wearing a towel and he started humping me and I punched him in the eye, which honestly scared the crap out of me cuz I’m not usually a fighter, but it was self-defense,” Ren said.
“Yeah, that definitely sounds like self-defense. I’m sorry that happened,” Barry said. “Anything else?”
“I don’t think so, no… I mean, I might’ve thrown sand in a kid’s eye in nursery school, but I’m usually the one being bullied,” Ren said.
“Okay. It sounds like you’ll be fine, but just so that it’s clear, we have a zero-tolerance policy for violence. It doesn’t matter what someone might say to provoke you, once a student violently lays a hand on another student, they’re expelled,” Barry said.
“Okay,” Ren said. It made her nervous to worry about the rules and the consequences of breaking them even though she didn’t expect violence to be a problem...unless, of course, the other students were violent. She started biting her nails.
“I think you’ll be fine. Most of the students here are extremely welcoming. Violence is almost never an issue. I just have to put that out there right away. I also have to ask if you have a history of skipping school or staying home a lot,” Barry said.
Ren’s anxiety turned into panic and she was silent for a few seconds. “Um, yeah, kind of,” she finally said.
“Well, that’s pretty common with our students. Everyone here struggles with these rules, but you won’t be given grades of A, B, C, D, or F; you’ll be given credits. If you get enough credits, you’ll graduate. Each class is worth one credit. You’ll either get full credit, half-credit, or no credit, and the way you get credit is by showing up for class and doing the assignments. We don’t give a ton of homework, but we do give a little, and eventually, you’ll need to take a Historical Research class, which is a lot of work, but it’s required to graduate. Every absence you have counts against you. You can only have three absences before you get half-credit and three more after that is no credit. Also, if you don’t do your homework or you’re late for class, or get in trouble in some way, the teachers can give you a ‘third,’ which is a third of an absence. You can also do extra credit work to earn back thirds. We like to try to make it doable because we know how hard it can be to be a teenager, and the kids who come here have all been through a lot more than the average teenager, so we wanna cut you guys a break when we can, but I have to ask if you think you can commit to regular attendance. It doesn’t have to be perfect, although if it is, we’ll even give you an award and a cake at the end of the semester,” Barry said.
“Um, yeah. I can probably commit to attendance. I dunno about perfect attendance, but I’ll do my best,” Ren said.
“That’s all you can do is try. Okay, so now I’m gonna show you some cards with pictures on them and I want you to tell me what order they go in and why,” Barry said.
“Um, Okay,” Ren said.
Barry set out cards with pictures of a light bulb, a mouse, a door, a fridge, a TV, a key, a clock, a mouse trap, a person screaming, and a piece of cheese. Ren put them in order.
“The clock comes first to symbolize the person coming home after work. The key is next. They open the door with the key, turn on the light, and see a mouse. They scream, get a piece of cheese out of the fridge, and set up the trap. Then they go watch TV and wait,” Ren said.
“Great! Try this one,” Barry said, and he set up more cards with pictures on them and Ren put them in order and explained it to him.
“Excellent,” Barry said, and he did another and another and another, and Ren had no problem answering them but she had no clue how she was doing because she didn’t understand what they were even testing.
“Am I doing okay?” she asked.
“Oh yes, very well,” Barry said. Ren just shrugged as they moved on to some other strange tests involving word games, Rorschach-like images, blocks with shapes on them, riddles, and eventually algebra and mathematical word problems. Ren struggled with some of it but found some of it easy.
“I’m not good at math,” Ren said.
“That’s okay. A lot of creative people struggle with math. We have a great teacher named Nima who does hands-on math that I bet you’d love. I think her class is planning to make a scale-model of a playground this year,” Barry said.
“That’s kinda cool,” Ren said. She was a little overwhelmed but liked what she was hearing.
“Okay, and now I want you to do a written assignment. I’d like you to write a page or two about something you did recently that you were proud of,” Barry said, and he handed Ren a pen and a piece of college-ruled paper. She took the pen and began to write about the coffee house she went to the night she got out of the group home she was in for a month. She had written a poem inspired by the live music that night and read it to the crowd, who loved it. Her pen moved rapidly as she wrote about the experience. She handed the paper to Barry when she was done and he read it. She included the poem at the bottom of the page.
“Wonderful!” he said. “So you’re already a talented writer, I see! I’m actually teaching a writing class this semester and I have a few spots left, if you’re interested.”
“Yeah, totally!” Ren said, actually getting excited, which wasn’t like her.
“Great, well, I’ll sign you up on the board in the hall of the Front Building. You can add your name to any of the classes that have space left, and there’s still a lotta room because we had a few January graduates this year; one from your town, I think.
“Cool,” Ren said.
“Okay, well, let’s head back down. Hopefully, your mom and grandpa found their way back,” Barry said.
Ren followed Barry downstairs, past the unlockers, back outside, and up the ramp to the Rec Space in the front building.
“Who are you?” an Armenian girl with a buzz cut and spiked, black bangs asked Ren. She was wearing baggy jeans, a SPAM t-shirt, light blue Chucks, and black and purple jelly bracelets. She had an eyebrow ring, black fingernails, and a tattoo of a bird on her thumb.
“Is that how you introduce yourself to a new student, Rayanne? This is Ren,” Barry said.
“Sorry,” Rayanne said. “I just don’t know her.”
“Well, she’ll be starting up with us in a few days,” Barry said.
“Cool. No doubt. What’s your name again?” Rayanne asked.
“Ren,” she said. Ren was always awkward with introductions.
“Cool, I’m Rayanne,” the girl introduced herself.
“Now that you’re introduced, maybe you wouldn’t mind showing Ren around on her first day and take her up the street for lunch with the crew,” Barry suggested.
“Yeah, I guess I could do that,” Rayanne agreed.
“Okay, well, Ren’s gonna pick her classes now. Have you signed up for yours yet?” Barry asked Rayanne.
“Nah, I will though,” Rayanne said.
“They’re filling up fast. You don’t want last picks, do you?” he asked.
“I don’t care,” Rayanne said.
“Suit yourself,” Barry said to her as he walked away and led Ren to the hallway where the classes were posted on the wall. Ren was overjoyed when she saw the choices. Unfortunately, she had to take some required classes like Math and English, but she got to choose the Hands-On Math class and her English class was planning to read banned books. Then, on top of that, she was taking Creative Writing, Photography, and Music. She had room for one more class, but there wasn’t much else open that she wanted to take.
“Nima teaches a great Science class and you only need one Science credit to graduate, so you might as well take it and get it over with,” Barry said.
“Okay,” Ren agreed, with a sigh.
“And we’re gonna put you in the Girl’s Therapy Group with Jestine and Lisa, two of our therapists. Jestine will also be your individual therapist. You’ll have group therapy every week as well as individual therapy. This is a therapeutic school,” Barry said.
“Sure,” Ren shrugged. She was used to having lots of therapy by that point.
“So yeah, you’re pretty much all set. Let’s see if your family’s back,” Barry said and led the way back to the Front Office where Mrs. Rogers and Ren’s grandfather were sitting and waiting.
“We’re back,” Barry said.
“Well, wha’do you think?” Mrs. Rogers asked. “You think you’ll like it?”
“Yeah, I think I really might,” Ren said.
“Okay, well, wha’ do we need to know?” Mrs. Rogers asked.
“We’ll have our secretary, Martha, get in touch with you about what time the cab will come, but school starts at nine AM Monday through Thursday, and then Ren will get out at two or three most days, except Fridays when school starts at nine-thirty and gets out at noon,” Barry said. Ren’s face lit up at the idea of a half-day every Friday.
“That’s short,” Ren’s grandfather said. Of course he heard that.
“Well, we just have a two-hour class and the school meeting that day, then homeroom. The staff usually meets for the rest of the day and they go over the individual education plans of all the students. No one gets lost in the shuffle here,” Barry said.
“That’s good to know,” Mrs. Rogers said, although she thought it was Ren’s own fault that she was lost in the shuffle. Surely, if she had been a good kid, she would not have been. Right?
“Okay, well, then we’ll see you Monday morning. Here’s a list of some of our rules for you to look over, and a list of your rights, as well, because we think that’s very important,” Barry said as he handed Ren a few pieces of paper stapled together with rules and human rights.
“Okay, thanks!” Ren said. She shook Barry’s hand as he held it out to her.
“Looking forward to getting to know you better. Enjoy your last few days off,” Barry said.
“Thanks,” Ren said again.
“Yes, thank you so much,” Mrs. Rogers said.
When they walked back to the car, Mrs. Rogers lit a cigarette and said, “It looks like a really nice area.”
“There’s a lotta weird looking people around here,” Ren’s grandfather had to say. Ren and Mrs. Rogers just rolled their eyes in disgust at his behavior, but it was no use arguing with him.
“I think you’re gonna love it here, honey,” Mrs. Rogers said.
“It does seem pretty cool. I’m kinda excited,” Ren said.
“Just make sure you make it work. This is your last chance and you’re lucky to even get this,” Mrs. Rogers said.
“I know,” Ren said.
“I don’t think you really do,” Mrs. Rogers said.
“Yeah, I do. I get it, but I’ll do good here. I’m gonna try anyway,” Ren said.
“Yes, try. Try not to let us down again,” Mrs. Rogers said.
Ren felt like shit due to the way her mother and grandfather were acting, but she had a feeling the kids at New Horizons School might understand.
When they reached Ren’s grandfather’s car, Mrs. Rogers stomped out her cigarette on the city sidewalk and got into the front seat. Ren got in the back and put on her headphones to listen to a Faith No More tape in her yellow Sony Walkman.
“You and those headphones,” Mrs. Rogers said.
“What?” Ren asked.
“Nothing,” Mrs. Rogers said.
“The Thing? Wasn’t that a horror movie?” Ren’s grandfather asked.
“I said ‘nothing,’” Mrs. Rogers said.
“No, you said something,” Ren’s grandfather replied.
“Never mind. You’re both hopeless,” she said as she pouted and lit another cigarette while looking out the window as they drove home, just beating the late afternoon traffic back to their North Shore suburb.
