FATHERS & DAUGHTERS

We are gazing out our window. It's a warm, sunny day-before-halloween Friday. There is no better view of after-school socializing and hanging out than the one afforded by our 2nd floor perch overlooking Atlantic Street and Veterans Park.

Suddenly, Grant remarks, "You're not going to believe the color of that girl's hair over there.....the one just walking past the bus stop." Sure enough, even from across the street, the day-glo purple hairs radiates shock and awe.

The hair makes its way across the street to the sidewalk directly below our window. "Wait," I exclaim, "I think that's S!" S is one our students....and like all of them, a "favorite" of ours.

Sure enough, we soon hear her footsteps ascending our stairs. S strides into our office wearing a big smile and what turns out to be, much to our relief, a shiny halloween wig. We have a chance to talk about school and a connection we hope to make soon between S and a "coach" who happens to be Stamford's lone female firefighter. All in all an upbeat Friday afternoon conversation.....until S's cell phone rings. Immediate tension. Her face clouds. "No, no....I am just here at FUTURE 5....at FUTURE 5 talking about things.....and waiting for my ride."

There is no mistaking the angry voice of her father at the other end of the call. This has happened before. "I don't give an [eff] where you are, you need to......" S trys to remain calm and reason with him, but we can't help but overhear her father's anger transforming into out and out rage. Scary. Finally, S burst into tears and now, responding to her father with a volley of her own rage, races to the back of our office to continue the argument in private. Eventually, she re-emerges, somewhat more composed, but tearful. She explains how she has given her father good reason to be worried about her in the past, but he simply won't and can't understand that she is now honestly trying to get her life together and stay on track. We talk for a bit allowing S to air some of this out. Her ride comes. She says goodbye and descends the stairs, still wiping tears from her eyes.

I hear someone greet her at our front entrance. I hear the footsteps ascending our stairs. L enters, a smile a wide as the ocean. "You are never going to guess who came to my school today!"

"I give up. Some big celebrity?"


"No, my father. He walked into the guidance department and demanded to see my first half grades and my attendance record. What a surprise for him! Since I don't live with him now he just assumes I still have terrible grades and that I am not going to school. He expects only the worst from me."

L continues to smile and truly seems to relish the delicious irony of a mistrustful father bursting into the guidance office and discovering -- surprise, surprise! -- that somewhere along the way his daughter has apparently managed to turn a corner: good grades, good attendance, good attitude.

"My guidance counselor told me the whole story. Isn't that funny?" she laughs, as she wipes a tear from her eye.