Status: Currently on Hiatus
The Breakdown of Natalie Whitman
Dr. Jennifer Phillips
You must understand that when I first met Natalie Whitman was over a simple issue. I had just moved into a small town in New Jersey. After living in the city for about ten years, it was nice to settle down and just to live in somewhere quiet. A job offer to be a school psychologist was finally what brought me. I received my Ph. D in child study in Columbia, but never actually used it. Finally, it was time to put it to use. High school was a difficult place, I remember that. The girlfriend/boyfriend issue, the constant gossip, the dividing wall between “popular” and “not popular.” the common clichéd aspects of life that even adults practice. After getting the job at Lincoln High School, I prepared myself for the flood of teenagers.
After long sweltering days, the bane of every student as they say good-bye to their swimming pools and endless days of sleep and hello to pencils and teachers who too wish to be on vacation, the first day of school. As I stood outside of my new office with the brand new plaque etched with my name, I could immediately tell which grade was which. The freshmen were terrified, walking with their binders close to their bodies. Some struggling to get their lockers open and others trying to figure out where their classes were, I considered myself one of the freshmen. The sophomores were just that: wise fools, joking around as if they were upper classman when really they are the second lowest on the food chain. The juniors did not seemed fazed at all and in fact seemed worried. They probably knew that this was probably their most important year when it came to college. Finally, the seniors, some with already early set senioritis. Then, there was the most frightening group of all, the teachers or my “peers.” Teachers, people who I was used to respecting and now I was one of them, or perhaps above them. Most of them could not refer to themselves as Doctor. You could clearly see the different group of separation. There were the older teachers, probably veterans. Then there were the young teachers, the next generation of women and men, ready to mold the minds of young students. Of course, there were always some in the middle, the middle-aged teachers, not too old but not too young. I didn’t have a group and I didn’t know if I would have one, after all I am suppose to sit in my office for most of the day, waiting for teenagers with their problems. After the homeroom bell, there was to be an assembly. This is where I introduced myself to the entire school.
The auditorium was not a Broadway theater to say the least, but it was comfortable enough to sit the small population of students. I believe that there were only 800 students in the school. Students swarmed the seats as I stood there, smiling and greeting each and every one of them. My smiles were not met and most walked off with a stern look on their face; I don’t blame them even my brain was still on vacation mode. The principal was a plump sweet woman with gold colored hair; she looked like she was around 40, a very young principal in my book. With a loud screech from the microphone, the crowd was silenced and the principal began to speak.
“Hello everyone and welcome to the 2008-2009 school year, for those who don’t know me, my name is Mrs. Saunders and I am principal of this fine institution. Now, before you go off to begin your wonderful academic journey, I have a new member of our staff. I want you to give a big Lincoln welcome to Dr. Jennifer Phillips.” There was a deadbeat applause, but I didn’t expect a big turnout after all I was not some sort of celebrity. Climbing up the stage, I felt awkward, like those public speaking assignments in high school. With a nervous giggle, I began to explain what I was, what I did and how I can help each of them. I explained to them what ever they told me was strictly confidential. However no luck, not even a flinch from the crowd, with a smile and a nod, I began to walk off the stage. A cable was in the way and me, being the klutz I was, I tripped over and fell to my knees. This time, I got a reaction, a big boisterous laughter from the crowd. I quickly untangled myself from my web of humiliation and walked off, bright red. Running out into the auditorium, I heard a couple of teachers snicker and comment. “She can’t even keep her own balance, how is she going to help a student maintain their own balance?” Yep, that moment confirmed it: this was high school.
After long sweltering days, the bane of every student as they say good-bye to their swimming pools and endless days of sleep and hello to pencils and teachers who too wish to be on vacation, the first day of school. As I stood outside of my new office with the brand new plaque etched with my name, I could immediately tell which grade was which. The freshmen were terrified, walking with their binders close to their bodies. Some struggling to get their lockers open and others trying to figure out where their classes were, I considered myself one of the freshmen. The sophomores were just that: wise fools, joking around as if they were upper classman when really they are the second lowest on the food chain. The juniors did not seemed fazed at all and in fact seemed worried. They probably knew that this was probably their most important year when it came to college. Finally, the seniors, some with already early set senioritis. Then, there was the most frightening group of all, the teachers or my “peers.” Teachers, people who I was used to respecting and now I was one of them, or perhaps above them. Most of them could not refer to themselves as Doctor. You could clearly see the different group of separation. There were the older teachers, probably veterans. Then there were the young teachers, the next generation of women and men, ready to mold the minds of young students. Of course, there were always some in the middle, the middle-aged teachers, not too old but not too young. I didn’t have a group and I didn’t know if I would have one, after all I am suppose to sit in my office for most of the day, waiting for teenagers with their problems. After the homeroom bell, there was to be an assembly. This is where I introduced myself to the entire school.
The auditorium was not a Broadway theater to say the least, but it was comfortable enough to sit the small population of students. I believe that there were only 800 students in the school. Students swarmed the seats as I stood there, smiling and greeting each and every one of them. My smiles were not met and most walked off with a stern look on their face; I don’t blame them even my brain was still on vacation mode. The principal was a plump sweet woman with gold colored hair; she looked like she was around 40, a very young principal in my book. With a loud screech from the microphone, the crowd was silenced and the principal began to speak.
“Hello everyone and welcome to the 2008-2009 school year, for those who don’t know me, my name is Mrs. Saunders and I am principal of this fine institution. Now, before you go off to begin your wonderful academic journey, I have a new member of our staff. I want you to give a big Lincoln welcome to Dr. Jennifer Phillips.” There was a deadbeat applause, but I didn’t expect a big turnout after all I was not some sort of celebrity. Climbing up the stage, I felt awkward, like those public speaking assignments in high school. With a nervous giggle, I began to explain what I was, what I did and how I can help each of them. I explained to them what ever they told me was strictly confidential. However no luck, not even a flinch from the crowd, with a smile and a nod, I began to walk off the stage. A cable was in the way and me, being the klutz I was, I tripped over and fell to my knees. This time, I got a reaction, a big boisterous laughter from the crowd. I quickly untangled myself from my web of humiliation and walked off, bright red. Running out into the auditorium, I heard a couple of teachers snicker and comment. “She can’t even keep her own balance, how is she going to help a student maintain their own balance?” Yep, that moment confirmed it: this was high school.
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The story goes back and forth in point of view, the title, font and story will tell you who is talking.