This girl was a human lie detector.
The defeat in my voice was obvious as I dropped my arms to my sides. “What kind of dog?”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
POLLY
“Ma’am, you can’t go in there.”
“Then it’s a damn good thing that I’m no ‘ma’am’.”
American Thighsby Lady Jane
Narrated by Brittney Houston
My clinic day was back-to-back patients followed by a meeting at the high school with Leah’s friend, Rose.
Rose Hammel was a warm hug of a person. She was just as cheerful as I’d pictured from her emails last week. I couldn’t decide what I liked about her best: her thick Tennessee accent, her contagious enthusiasm for the school, or her office. I marveled at all the Disney princesses and Star Wars figurines along her shelves while we talked. I’d been a little nervous, wondering how we’d get along, but she was clearly a kindred spirit.
“Leah told me about the grant the school was awarded last spring, the one meant to expand disability and 504 plan accommodations. Congratulations.”
Rose beamed, her tight curls bouncing as she nodded.
“I tell you what, I practically scared Reggie half to death in his office next door when I found out. I shrieked so loud he came runnin’—expectin’ a spider, ’cause he knows I hate those little devils and he’ll take ’em outside for me now and again.” Rose paused, seeing my confused expression. “Oh sorry, sugar, that’s Mr. Sievers, the guidance counselor. His office is right next door.” Rose pointed behind me, then continued on. “The grant is great news for the district. We’ve got more kids than ever needin’ accommodation, which is wonderful, knowing that we’re helpin’ more students succeed, but that also means we need help. Reggie and I try to attend every meetin’ so we can walk the families through the evaluation process, but we can’t get to ’em all, there’s just too many students needin’ help. What I’d really like is to hire a special education advocate for each school in the district. That way, the advocate can work with every student and their family needin’ an IEP or 504 plan.”
I shook my head. “I’m not familiar with a special education advocate, what’s that?”
“An advocate knows the federal and state school laws for disabilities. They work with a family to help coordinate with us at the school level, so the students get the services they need,” Rose explained.
“That sounds amazing. What else is the grant money going toward?”
Rose flipped through her stack of papers and pulled out a packet.
“Here’s the proposal I gave to the school board at their meetin’ earlier this month. I proposed updates for special education technology aids, like tablets with those text-to-speech apps, and to expand the standard 504 plan templates to include each individual mental health disorder, like sensory processin’ disorder and the like.”
I flipped through the proposal as she talked. “Please excuse me if this question sounds ignorant, but how does the district determine if a student meets criteria to be eligible for service? Like, for ADHD as an example.”
“Shoot, that’s not ignorant, hun. If I had more folks askin’ questions like you, there’d be a heck of a lot less judgment ‘round these parts. Like how people still judge me when my accent slips now and again. Growin’ up we were as poor as church mice. Even though I got myself an education and a ‘highfalutin vocabulary,’ per my meemaw, people still think I’m dull as a sack of nails.”
I’d known Rose for all of ten minutes but the thought of anyone insulting her infuriated me, even if I was mildly curious what Rose considered to be her accent “slipping”.
“Now what were you sayin’, hun? Oh, that’s right, determinin’ who needs what. Well, if a student already has a diagnosis from an outside provider, like a counselor, we use their medical notes to help determine eligibility.”
Being a pediatrician for years, this is something I already knew. “What if the student doesn’t have an official diagnosis? How long does that take? Because it’s been taking months to get my patients into a counselor, much less a neuropsychologist or psychiatrist.”
Rose pointed to her nose. “You got that one right. That’s exactly why the last part of my proposal aims to reduce wait times for a medical provider down to thirty days.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. Thirty days? It’s been taking months for my patients to see any mental health provider, period. I shook my head slowly. “Is that even possible? Unless a family can afford to pay out of pocket for a private provider or has a favor called in, the wait times have been months.”
Rose’s mouth twisted grimly. “It’s the same here, I’m afraid. We’re tryin’ to build up our referral pool and have the grant provide stipends for private providers to assess the student within thirty days, but it’s been a tough row to hoe so far. First, we gotta get the board to approve the stipends. Then, we gotta get a confirmed list of providers willing to see these kids.” Rose smiled and winked at me. “That’s where you can help us.”
I sat up straighter. “Me?”
Nodding, she slid a paper across her desk. “I need someone on the medical side who can help me recruit these providers.”
I scanned the sheet, wincing as I took in the full, single-spaced list of provider names, and balked. I wanted to help, but I didn’t want to overpromise. “Listen, Rose. I’m a single mother. My ten-year-old son, Max, is going to need his own 504 plan due to his anxiety. I’d love to help, but I don’t know if I have the extra time to research and field all of these calls.”
Rose held up her hand. “Oh, no, Dr. Alberton?—”
