Fat School Confidential by Joe Rourke Read Free Book Online Page A

doing with their program, studies, and so on. If anything needs addressing, this is where we initially do that.”
        Opening the show, Daniel motioned to Sheila.
        “ Where do we begin?”
        Sheila paused, a smile creeping over her face.
        “ Let’s begin with the Gumbies!”
        At this point, Daniel gave us greenhorns a lesson in what was called the “Summit System.” Depending on the student and his or her personal accomplishments and goals attained while at the school, he or she was given a ranking that related to mountain climbing. After all, this was the Academy of the Sierras. All new students were designated as “Gumbies,” or ‘inexperienced’ climbers. After achieving certain milestones, they rose to become “Boulderers,” “Ascenders,” “Belayers,” and then, finally, the coveted “Yabo,” named after the late great mountain climber, John “Yabo” Yablonski. Depending on their rank, students were given certain benefits and status among the community. Gumbies were given a bare minimum of phone time each week to call home, zero free time outside the dorm, and no off-campus privileges. Boulderers were given
    twenty additional minutes of “talk time,” free time outside the dorm, and a weekly off-campus outing to the movies. The higher the rank, the greater the privileges.
        Of course, with greater rewards came greater challenges. For students to become Boulderers, the second-lowest ranking, they had to accomplish the following: First, they had to walk an average of ten thousand steps a day for two weeks, measured by A.O.S.-issued pedometers. Second, using a small, A.O.S.-supplied notebook, they must log each and every meal—including calorie and fat content. Students called the process “Think and Ink.” They also had personal responsibilities to fulfill (e.g. keeping their respective dorm rooms clean and orderly), as well as attend and participate in all activities. Last but not least, they had to maintain a grade of ‘C’ or better in all classes.
        Overwhelmed by the wealth of information given to me, I was compelled to take notes. But seeing as all the other teachers and staff were just sitting there, I did the same.
        Miraculously, only one student was mentioned. A residential staff supervisor, Tony Zepeda, coughed up, “What’s the deal with Jimmy?”
        Daniel and Tom gave each other a glance, which, from my perspective, looked like snickering. Eyeballing the two men, Sheila responded.
        “ Jimmy Dyer has spent the better part of his high school life at A.O.S. He’s lost nearly two hundred pounds, so he’s exercising his newfound voice in the world. He’ll grow out of it.”
        Tom chimed in.
        “ So to speak.”
        Tony, clearly disappointed, snapped back.
        “ So what do we do when he doesn’t listen to staff? He’s been giving us hell with his unmets.”
        Unmets, as defined in A.O.S.’s unwritten glossary of terms, were chores or personal tasks that were not completed—thus,  “unmet.” Chores and tasks included getting up in the morning, maintaining proper hygiene, and so on. Depending on the amount and type of unmets, students were dealt with in varying degrees of consequence. In Jimmy’s case, Tom Eccleston became the voice of reason.
        “ He’s an Ascender, right?
        Tony nodded.
        “ Well, then. Let’s stumble him to Boulderer until he shapes up. If he doesn’t show improvement in the next two weeks, we’ll talk again.”
        Sheila nodded her approval.
        By the time the meeting was over, we had five minutes before the students stampeded towards the classrooms. Adjourning, teachers, B.C.s and the rest of staff fanned out of the room and rushed to our respective battle stations.
        Armed with more knowledge than before, I felt ready to take on just about any challenging student.
        Or so I thought.
        My first class on my first day