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       #Post#: 72--------------------------------------------------
       You Never Get to Relax
   DIR By: StoryGod
       Date: December 25, 2019, 11:49 am
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       Albina filed into the large conference room for the meeting of
       fifth grade Suite Advisors. She had spent the morning checking
       off paper work, writing to parents to assure them their
       offspring were safe and sound, and then joining her crew for
       lunch. In a few days to weeks, they could have lunch on their
       own, and she would be free for big chunks of the day. The
       thought filled her with a bit of dread. A year ago there had
       always been something to write or look up, or to worry about not
       doing. Doing work, had never really been Albina's problem
       though. It was convincing others that her contribution was
       worthwhile and then there would have been the job market. "I
       make more than an adjunct who completed his/her PhD," she told
       herself. "At least I have free room and board."
       "And I also have meetings." The meetings brought back unwelcome
       memories of department, grad student meetings. Those around the
       tables pushed together and those sitting one row back, which was
       the only way to fit everybody in,  looked way too much like the
       graduate students she remembered. She noticed Kadie who angrily
       defended her charges' good diets. There was chatty, networking
       Connie, and there was the mustachioed, male Suite Adivsor who
       supevised the game of Twister in Rapinoe-McConolly-Brinker.
       The Middle School Head Resident, a woman who had put on a wool
       tweed skirt for the occasion, ran the meeting. The topics were
       making sure everybody did their paper work."When does one ever
       escape paperwork," Albina thought. There was also parental
       contact, and the Head Resident went over the things parents
       expected to know and the limits of confidentiality. Suite
       Advisors had not access to grades, but did get warnings from
       teachers when a child needed more study time or tutoring. Suite
       Advisors were certainly free to comment about a child's attitude
       toward study hall, and willingness to study voluntarily, and
       certainly whether they helped others.
       Nutrition and self care were another concern. The goals were
       simple. Children needed to take a reasonable approximation of a
       meal three times a day on their trays and eat most of it. The
       meal could include junk food, sweets, soda, or all three, and
       breakfast cereal, hamburgers, coldcuts, pizza, and bread were
       NOT junk food. Junk food was cakes, pies, cookies, crackers, and
       chips, stuff available on the junk food and cold bars. Children
       could eat up to one ALL junk food meal every day, if they chose
       to do so. They could also include some junk with every meal.
       Most didn't eat meals that were entirely junk, "but occasionally
       you'll have one weird one in the mix," the Head Resident for
       Fifth Grade explained,  "and I don't mean a kid who lives on
       nothing but junk food and soda. They exist, but they're not what
       crawls under a Suite Advisor's skin. If you have a child who
       eats nothing but junk food and soda, you know something is
       wrong.  Ditto for a child who is starving themself. The weird
       ones are those who have chocolate milk, cereal, and pickles for
       a meal or something else you don't believe anyone would eat. If
       it's not meal after meal of junk food, lay off. We serve it
       because someone eats it. Someone lives in your suite."
       "Last I want to go over security," the Fifth Grade Head Resident
       bloviated. Albina wished she wore a watch. Digging out a cell
       phone took too long, and there was no clock in the room. "A few
       of you have children who are flight risks. How many of you have
       flight risks." Albina debated raising her hand, but in the end
       she had to come clean.
       "If you have a flight risk in your suite,  what are the trouble
       signs to look for?" the Fifth Grade Head Resident let a
       preposition dangle in mid air.
       "Long phone calls with parents done in secret," a male, African
       American Suite Advisor announced.
       "Phone calls or texts that change a child's emotions," said a
       Suite Advisor with prematurely, graying braids.
       "A child begging to go off by herself when off campus,"
       mustachios suggested.
       "Excellent," the Fifth Grade Suite Advisor purred. "Now if your
       flight risk is raising red flags what can you do?"
       "Go to campus security," an extremely plump Suite Advisor
       volunteered.
       "It's a bit early for that and campus security has a flight risk
       list. They are monitoring the app as backup."
       "Talk to the flight risk about her parents," Kadie suggested.
       "Keep the flight risk close when making a trip away from
       campus," the African American Suite Advisor with the
       authoritative voice added.
       "But you're discriminating against me," the Fifth Grade Suite
       Advisor imitated a fifth grader in a way that made her sound far
       younger and also like nails grating on a chalk board.
       "I'd contract with her," a Suite Advisor with silver glasses
       explained. "I'd tell her that you know she wants to run away to
       join a parent, or just leave school, but that has bad
       consequences, and that I want to trust her to shop by herself,
       so I make a deal with her. She shows signs of committing to
       being on campus or she can't rendez vous shop with her
       suitemates. If she doesn't give a hang about rendez vous
       shopping, then I hold out some other reward. I try to get her to
       buy into cooperating."
       "Very good...Now I have an open door policy and I'm not
       Security," the Fifth Grade Head Resident explained. "If any of
       you think you have a flight risk on the verge of escaping, you
       can come to me. Any other questions."
       When Albina could finally check her cell phone, it said 3:55pm.
       She sprinted over to Mishra-Hornick, the middle school building
       in time to see kids nervously pouring out, emerging like moles
       into bright sunlight. Albina played the dork and stood on a
       bench. "Who wants to play games?" she called out. "Also we have
       a pantry run tonight." "Lots of junk food," Albina thought.
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