Start. Stutter. Stop.

Larry Jones looked at the clock in his office. One more hour and he could begin his three-week summer vacation. He was the 11^th and 12^th grade counselor at the Academy School, located an hour west of Boston. The school had 300 students with 75 per grade level. There was another counselor who worked with the 9^th and 10^th graders and together they shared one secretary. It was a heavy work load, particularly for him as he was responsible for the college admissions process for the senior class.

He had reason to be happy this July. The class that graduated a few weeks earlier was particularly strong. Several of the students in the top ten would be attending an Ivy League college, including one to Harvard, and two each to Brown and Yale. The Class Valedictorian was headed for the University of Chicago. Larry’s work for the year was almost done.

By evening he and his wife would be at their cottage on Cape Cod. Tomorrow morning he’d go fishing and then they would settle into their summer routine. On sunny days they’d walk the sandy beaches near Chatham and Monomoy or if the weather was rainy, they’d drive up to Provincetown for lunch. In the evenings, he’d watch the Red Sox on TV and work on his summer reading list.

Larry thought about leaving a few minutes early. Markham, the janitor was the only other person in the building and he would lock up at 5:30 and would set the alarm. Markham was a wily, old fox. He knew more about the school, and occasionally human nature, than anyone. Occasionally, Larry would bring a bag of donuts to work in the morning and he and Markham would drink coffee in the janitor’s cluttered work shed, behind the building.

However, Larry had a couple of more papers to review. Each September the Academy School enrolled 15 new students in grade 11. These students replaced the ones whose parents took them out at the end of grade 10. Some parents wanted to save two years’ worth of private school tuition so they sent their kids back to public school. Conversely, there were parents who wanted their teenagers enrolled in a private school for the last two years so that their college resumes looked better. 

Larry Jones noted that 13 of the 15 slots had been filled for September. He knew from experience that the school would pick up two more new students in August. It was Larry’s job to interview and select this cohort. And, truth be told, the Headmistress was less concerned about the quality of the new students than she was about having a balanced budget. He didn’t want to face her in a month’s time with vacancies in grade 11.

Just as he was about to go to find Markham to say goodbye, a woman and teenage boy appeared at his door.

“Do you have a moment?” the mother asked. “I know it’s late in the week but I have a few questions. My son is just finishing grade 10 at Wrexham High School and my husband and I would like Hugh to have two good years before college. That is, if he gets accepted into college.”

Larry Jones was a professional so he’d give the mother and son a few minutes. However, he had neither the time nor the authority to talk about financial aid, if that’s what they needed. The business office was closed and wouldn’t reopen until August 1^st.

“Tell me about yourself,” said Larry. The mother answered for the boy.

“He’s an above average student. His brother graduated as an officer from the Naval Academy a few years ago and we know that Hugh isn’t capable of such heights but we feel he has some potential. My husband is very successful. He’s the president of the Boston Bankers’ Association and his name always comes up when there is an election for Governor. He was the captain of the Dartmouth hockey team. He wants the boys to be like him. He believes in the saying, ‘the apple doesn't fall far from the tree’.”

“And how about it, Hugh?” asked Larry. “Can you handle the workload in a school like this.? But before we get to the academic questions, tell me about yourself. Sports? Extra-curricular interests?”

The boy was staring ahead at a poster of Ted Williams, the great Boston Red Sox outfielder, that was on the wall just behind Larry Jones’ desk. The mother was looking at the carpet by her feet. Larry could read body language. In fact, many high school counselors excelled at reading body language. Vexed parents, frustrated teachers, anxious teenagers: they all “telegraphed” a message through posture and other non-verbal gestures.

“Well, you see, Mr. Jones, Hugh suffers from a fairly severe stutter and he’s reluctant to talk for fear of embarrassing himself,” said the mother. “An interview is very intimidating.”

“I understand,” replied Larry. “By the way, many of our students have some type of learning challenge. Stuttering is just one of many issues we see. How about this, Hugh? I’ll tell you a little bit about our school and you relax and catch your breath. By the way, here’s the school brochure with all the information you need. Read it when you have the time.”

Larry then spent the next few minutes outlining the life of an 11^th grader at the Academy School. He talked about sports and stressed the many clubs that students could join.

Hugh looked up and said, “I l-l-l-l-like cross-country. I love to r-r-r-run. I was #3 on our t-t-t-team last fall. I like the solitude of running and I don’t have to t-t-t-talk to anyone for a whole afternoon.”

“That makes sense,” replied Larry. “Tom Jackson is our cross-country coach and training begins in late August.”

Larry went on, “I have an idea. Cross-country ends in early November with the state tournament. A week later clubs begin. Miss Royston is the speech and debate coach. This is a winter club and runs through until April. I saw Miss Royston in the store the other day and she reminded me that she’s looking for talented students to join the speech and debate team.”

Hugh’s mother was turning red and she looked at Larry as though he had two heads. “Well, I’ve heard just about everything now. Hugh can’t do speech and debate! He can hardly finish a sentence as you will have noticed.” Hugh dropped his head again.

Larry knew better than to take on Hugh’s mother this late in the day. His wife was waiting at home and they had a two-hour drive to Cape Cod – maybe longer on a Friday evening.

“How a sentence is delivered is less important than what is being said,” remarked Larry. “Nevertheless, Miss Royston, the teacher, is very adept and skilled in helping all of her students. A few years ago, she had a partially blind girl on the team. She had Camilla do an oral interpretation piece using braille.” 

“Then there was our Japanese exchange student. She struggled with English as you can imagine. But Miss Royston paired her with another girl and they did a duet presentation: the exchange student presented an essay in Japanese and our student read the English translation. It was very effective. The pair won first place in the competition for creativity. We were so proud of Hanako and Jenny.”

Hugh was now sitting up straight in his chair. “I’d like to meet your t-t-t-teacher. Maybe she can help me?”

“Here’s what we’ll do,” said Larry Jones looking directly at Hugh. “In the brochure is an application, a financial statement, a health questionnaire and the club selection form. If you can be here on the afternoon of August 1^st, I’ll make sure that Miss Royston stops by to meet you. She’ll answer any questions you might have. And, by the way, come in on your own.”

Hugh’s mother ignored the last comment and said, “well, I feel slightly better than I did 20 minutes ago, Mr. Jones. Thanks for your time. Our family has much to talk about this weekend, if my husband can get away from his golf.”

Turning the light off in his office, Larry Jones went in search of Markham. The janitor was walking the main hall with a set of keys in his hand. “Time to leave, Mr. Counselor. You must be ready for some fishing on the Cape? I see that another new family just stopped by. Does the boy have any talent in sports?”.

“Well,” replied Larry. “He’s is fairly good at cross-country. Coach Jackson will be pleased. But the mother is insufferable and the boy has a severe stutter.”

Markham sighed and patted Larry Jones on the back and said, “Well, every problem has a solution. I’d send him to Miss Royston, if I were you. She’ll have him on the stage in a few months reciting the ‘The Gettysburg Address’. Take care of yourself and have a good summer.”