The Don Juan of Disney - April 25, 2007

It was our normal house recreation hour and this afternoon we took the kids down to the basketball courts for a game. We had all the kids except the new kid, James, who was in therapy. The staff was me, Mel, Trixie, Gus (who was up at the house getting dinner ready) and Vance, a new staff that has been with us for about 6 weeks.

Now I really like Vance. You could tell right away that he has a good head on his shoulders. He is in college studying to become a teacher, an athletic Philipino guy who has a good sense of humor and has a nice, positive energy with the kids. Another nice thing about him is that he sets firm limits and doesn't let the kids get away with too much. I can tell he'll be here for a while and I've tried my best to take him under my wing and help him out when he's got questions or needs to understand "the big picture." And there are always plenty of "teachable moments" when you're dealing with these kids. Like a lot of new staff, he can be a little too exuberant sometimes, trying to do too much.

You can probably imagine that trying to play a regular game of basketball with a group of severely emotionally disturbed boys is no walk in the park. Even in play, you're still working. Typically, any kind of game consists of about a minute of playing and then five more minutes of behavior modification and calming down hot tempers. This particular "game" included the boys taking turns standing at the top of the key with the ball, screaming out "Jordan!" or "Iverson!" or "Shaq Diesel!" or "Skills!" and then charging toward the basket as if to dunk and knocking down anyone standing around playing "defense." It resembled human bowling more than anything.

After being leveled a few times, Francis had finally had enough.

"I ain't playing no more!" he screamed. "Fuck all y'all bitches!" He stomped off the court, up the hill and toward the trees.

Trixie said, "Hey Francis, just take a break, get some water or something. We can go play one-on-one together and work on your skills."

"I ain't doing shit, you bitch-ass ho! I'm climbing trees instead. I ain't coming down, neither."

Trixie was unimpressed. "Okay, whatever. Don't fall out."

"I hope I do!"

The staff then turned their attention to the remaining participating boys. All the staff except Vance, who, with a head full of steam shouted, "I'll get him!" and ran up the hill. As he did so, Francis quickly jumped up, grabbed a limb, climbed up the tree and sat on a branch.

I called out to Vance, "Hey, easy there big boy! Just keep an eye on him, he's not going anywhere!"

Francis picked off a few pine cones and began to throw them in Vance's general direction.

"These are bitch-bombs, muthafuckin retard!"

"Gotta get him!" said Vance. He turned to Francis, "Get down!" Francis ripped off a pine cone and chucked it at Vance. I started to walk up the hill to help out the new guy.

"Vance," I said, "slow down. He's not going anywhere. Where's he gonna go? Just get out of pine cone range and keep an eye on him. He wants you to engage his negative attention-seeking..."

Another pine cone went whizzing by Vance's head.

"Oh yeah?" said Vance, "I got something for that!" Vance took a running jump, vaulted off the tree trunk, grabbed Francis by the ankle and yanked him out of the tree. They both landed with a thud on the ground, Francis landing on his back. Vance wrestled Francis on the ground trying to pin him down, all the while Francis was yelling, "Abuse! Staff abuse! I'm telling my therapist! He's trying to break my arm!"

As I walked up to the two, Vance knelt down on Francis' back, pinning him there. "Now what, Francis? That's what you get for trying to hit me. Now you know..."

"Wow, what an incredible display of childcare skills," I said. "You know, Vance, far be it from me to try to criticize, but I was just wondering what you were going to put in the Incident Report. I hope you're studying creative writing in school."

Vance looked up at me. "What's an Incident Report?"

I rolled my eyes and rubbed my forehead. "Goddamn it, not again. Are you serious? Please don't tell me they let another one work in the most violent unit on campus without PART training you."

"PART training? What's that?"

"You're really trying to get me fired aren't you?" I knelt down next to Vance. "PART stands for 'Professional Assault Response Training.' Here, put your leg over his leg like this, pull out his arm and hold on to it above the wrist. Don't kneel on him. You want to immobilize him without hurting him. It's not a fight."

"But I'm just doing what you guys always do," said Vance.

"Well, no you're not. You've got to go through PART training to put your hands on a kid, and you always have to do it with another staff, not alone. And the kid has to be seriously violent. So, since I'm the senior staff here, and PART trained at that, I have to write the fucking IR and I have no idea what I'm going to write."

Francis continued, "The goddamn newcomer is an abuser! He pushed me outta the tree and I wasn't doing shit! Call the sheriff, call the sheriff!" He was trying to turn his head around to spit on Vance.

I said, "Now Francis, you know he didn't run up and yank you out of the tree. What Vance and I are going to do now that we've PART captured you and PART restrained you together is this: we're going to safely PART escort you up the hill into the house where we will then PART place you into the Quiet Room.

"I ain't goin to no fuckin Quiet Room! I didn't do nothing and this fat-assed ho slammed me down for no reason. I'm calling my lawyer and get his stupid fuckin ass fired!! Newcomer's smokin crack!"

Vance and I picked him up off the ground and dragged him up the hill. Francis continued to spit in Vance's direction. When he did, we would stop, and still holding his upper arms, use our free hands to push his head down, which would cause Francis to scream.

I said, "Now Francis, every time you try to create a dangerous situation by trying to assault the staff, we are required to PART keep ourselves safe by PART protecting ourselves from your abusive spit. That means shoving your head down as close to the ground as possible while still holding your arms way up here. Sorry if it's a little uncomfortable. So if you want us to stop PART shoving your head down, stop spitting."

"I'm gonna spit on you then I'm gonna sock the shit out of you."

We finally arrived at the Quiet Room door. Both Vance and I had Francis' upper arms and as we pushed him toward the open door, Francis would reach out and hold onto the edge of the door to prevent us from getting him in there.

I said, "Now Francis, for your protection and for ours, I'm going to have to safely PART deposit you into this room." I turned to Vance and quickly said, "Ok, let go."

As Vance let go, Francis instantly tried to turn and punch him with his free arm. Anticipating this, and still holding his other arm, I simultaneously spun him around and shoved him into the room using his spinning as momentum. Francis twirled around about 3 times before falling down on the floor. I slammed the door and turned to Vance.

"I call that the 'helicopter.' I don't know if PART has a name for it. Can you go get me two incident reports? I'll show you how to write one."

As Vance went to get the IR's, Francis continued, "I'm gonna bust outta here and get my paybacks! I'm gonna beat that newcomer's ass!" He repeatedly ran full speed at the door and slammed into it.

I said, "Now Francis, if you continue to try to hurt yourself, Vance and I will be required to keep you safe by PART coming in there and PART floor containing you. And it's a long way down to the floor."

"Fuck PART!"

Vance returned, IR's in hand.

"Thanks," I said. "Now tell me exactly what happened."

Vance said, "Well, Francis' stupid ass ran up a tree..."

"I heard that! He called me stupid! That's it! What's the number for 911, I'm calling the cops!"

"...and I yanked his ass outta there."

I said, "Oh, Grasshopper, you have a great deal to learn from me, the Great Master. You definitely did not 'yank his ass outta there'. We don't do illegal things here. We do things per PART, because every last one of us is PART trained, right?"

"Well I'm not PART trained. Can Francis really get us fired for this? He keeps talking about that."

"Well, actually both you and I could concievably get fired, yes. But Francis has a major hurdle to jump, which is this: he has to tell a story that makes sense. Luckily for us, we have logic and reason on our side. Observe." I turned to the Quiet Room's window and yelled to Francis.

"Hey Francis!"

"What the hell do you want, you asshole?"

"I just have a question. When Vance here was nice enough to come to the tree and talk to you about being upset during the game, why did you try to kick him?"

"Cuz he's a punk-ass bitch! Wait. Did I do that? I didn't do that! He tried to hit me. That's when I socked his ass. Fuckin newcomer!" He paused a moment. "Stokie, I'm gonna fuck you up cuz you're trying to confuse me."

"I am not," I said. "I'm trying to PART talk about your feelings and PART process you out of this dangerous situation."

Francis was indignant. "Talk about my feelings? Riiiiight! I FEEL like I'm going to fuck up the newcomer's car. I FEEL like his fat-ho mama likes to eat shit. I FEEL like my back hurts where that damn nigga SLAMMED ME DOWN FOR NO FUCKIN REASON!!"

"That's nice, Francis," I said. "I'm glad you've decided to calm down." I turned to Vance. "Dude, you have to show that he made an immediate threat to his or our safety. And you have to show that you made an effort to calm him down and that you warned him of consequences."

"So," I continued. "What I have so far is that you gave him a timeout from the game so that he could calm down. He refused his timeout and threatened to punch you. After you repeatedly warned him about his unsafe behavior, he ran up a tree and threatened to jump out. Concerned for his safety, you and I followed him up there, he started throwing pine cones, lost his balance and fell on you as you tried to break his fall. After he started trying to punch you, we placed him in a PART prone containment. How's that so far?"

Vance squirmed. "Doesn't it bother you that you're sorta faking the information? I mean it's kinda true, but it's kinda not."

I said, "I'll tell you what makes me uncomfortable. I'm uncomfortable with an Administration that let's new staff come into this unit without being PART trained and having the audacity to not tell anyone about it. I think that's a direct threat to my job."

Vance said, "Oh. Then that's exactly how I remember it, oh Great Master."

Francis screamed, "I remember ABUSE! Get Johnny Cochran on the phone! I'm telling and your abusive asses are getting fired!"

I said, "Now here's the good part. Give me that extra IR."

I opened the door a crack and tossed in the IR.

"Francis," I said. "I'm very concerned about these allegations of abuse and I want you to know that I'm on your side."

"No you're not, Stokie! You're using your powers for EVIL!"

I continued, "So I want you to write your side of the story on that IR so that all the lawyers and therapists and house supervisors can look at it and fire Vance's stupid ass. Can you do that for me?"

Vance turned pale and looked at me as if I had abandoned him.

Francis picked up the IR. "Fuck yeah, dude, now it's time for payback. I'm gonna write the sheriff, too. How do you spell 'stupid-ass retard'? How do you spell 'crack smokin white-ass honky'? How do you spell 'the newcomer looks like William Hung'?"

Francis then took the IR and ripped it up into tiny pieces. "I ain't writing shit for you, muthafucka! You can't make me!"

"Dang, Francis," I said. "You always figure out a way to outsmart me." I turned to Vance. "Now I write, 'When given the opportunity to write down his complaints of abuse, the resident ripped up the IR and refused.' And that's that."

Just then James, the Mac G of Doo-kie, burst into the front door with his therapist, Martin. James was a whirlwind of energy and lack of impulse control. He was quickly running from the kitchen to his room and the TV.

He was saying, "I'm gonna play my Gameboy fo' a minute. I want a snack first. What's on TV? I'm gonna put on my new clothes. What's for dinner? I'm goin' down to the courts..."

All the while Martin was closely following him, half jogging, chanting, "Control...control...control...Remember what we were talking about? Control...control...control...."

I heard Mel say from the kitchen, "Get out of my kitchen and get in the shower. Therapy's over."

"I'm just gonna play my Gameboy, but first I'm gonna play Legos..."

"Control...control...control..."

I called out, "I heard Mel say get in the shower. Now get in the shower."

James continued, "Can me and Martin do magic tricks? First I wanna go shoot some hoops..."

"Control...control..."

I called out again, "James, get in the shower right now or you're going to bed early and you're not getting any dessert. Five, four, three, two..."

"Okay, okay, Stokie, damn!" He ran to get a change of clothes, went to the bathroom, slammed the door and turned on the shower. Martin then approached me.

"You know Stokie," he said, "I don't appreciate your threatening him to get him in the shower. He and I are working on his impulse control."

I said, "Martin, when he's in therapy you guys can play 'follow the leader' or whatever other game you want. I'm sure it's very theraputic. But when he comes back up here, he's gotta follow the house rules and I can't have two out-of-control people running around my house when I'm trying to run a shift. I got the rest of the house coming up from rec, I got a kid in the Quiet Room. I don't need you two to add to the chaos."

Martin turned on his heels and left.

I turned back to Vance. "Hey, by the way, how's it going with Stephanie? You were talking about maybe asking her out or whatever and I know you two had that evening shift together the other day. She's got that nice, big boo-tay."

Francis burst out, "You said big booty! Stop talking about my mama!"

"Francis," I said. "If you can prove to me that you're no longer violent, you can come out and join the rest of the house with no consequences. Sit down and be quiet for 5 minutes."

"Fine, bitch." Francis sat down.

Vance said, "Oh yeah! We totally hooked up during my overnight."

"Already? Jeez dude, you work fast."

"Yeah, once the Night Awake came on shift, I asked her if she wanted to watch a dvd with me in the staff office, we both sat down on the bed and one thing led to another." He smiled.

"Wow, buddy, you're a real Cassanova. That must've been some DVD to get her in the mood. What'd you do, go rent something special just in case?"

"No man," he said. "I just put on one of the house's DVDs. Just a little something for ambience. You know."

I was incredulous. "No you didn't. We don't have anything like that here. What was it?"

"Finding Nemo."

I stared at him as my jaw slowly dropped. "Well, I guess the Great Master can still learn some new things from the Grasshopper."

Posted by Stokie at 12:20 PM

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