I'm Fine, I Swear [Sean]

As the Hammel psychiatrist, and as a long-standing administrator with more seniority than most of the faculty, Sean was privy to information about all incoming students. He maintained files on all of the students, as a matter of course, since he would have to check off on their compliance with his senior seminar, and because he might have to interact with them on a disciplinary, if not also a therapeutic level. Not every student met with him, but he prided himself on being aware of all of them.

Additionally, the psychiatrist flagged certain students as requiring his help. He didn’t meet with those students obtrusively at first, but he wanted to forge that connection. Young psychics, students with mental health issues (of course), students from religious homes whose parents were metaphobic, certain students facing other internalized prejudices...he arranged those meetings once then students were settled.

Tori Peterson was one of those people. Her file contained a great amount of information, culminating in notes from the recruiter that Sean had confirmed through his powers.

The scope and depth of his telepathy was remarkable useful in his professional life.

Hearing the knock, he set down Tori’s file and turned towards the door. “Please, come in,” he called out. He remained seated, since his full height had a tendency to intimidate, and she was young and new as it was. There was no need to add to those feelings.

“You can close the door,” Sean informed Tori, when she entered the office. He encouraged privacy for all of the students, insofar as he was able to guarantee it. Privacy was a somewhat nebulous concept at Hammel, particularly where a telepathic psychiatrist was involved. The least that he could do was prevent other students and passersby from overhearing confidential conversation.

Once the door was closed, he turned towards her and offered her a gentle smile. “I did,” he confirmed with a single nod. “I wanted to talk to you now that you’re settled in a little bit, to see how you were doing.”

Sean had considerably more than that, which he had gleaned from her file. While she didn’t have a mental health history, he had enough notes from her academic records and from her recruiter that there was much for him to monitor. Even if they didn’t cover everything in this conversation.

Since he wanted to use this meeting to open the lines of communication and to establish a rapport, he was prepared not to cover everything. Even scratching the surface would be a lot for an introductory session.

“I’m Doctor Neville,” he explained, offering his patented introduction. “If you want to be a little less informal, you can call me ‘Doc.’”

Sean was kept busy, primarily because he kept tabs on so many students. However, he prided himself on his ability to foster a personal relationship with the student body; while Hammel wasn’t tiny, it also wasn’t huge. It certainly wasn’t the size of some of the high schools in bigger cities, and he had an advantage that most school counselors lacked. Most counselors didn’t benefit from telepathy.

“And where have you been assigned?” The psychiatrist queried, as he was genuinely interested in that. Roommates could often make or break the Hammel experience, and he wanted everyone to be as safe and as comfortable as resources would allow. Considering the fact that L.C. had come to live with him for so long entirely as a result of a roommate situation, he wanted to nip that in the bud.

Sean trusted the housing staff. However, they couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“I check in with most of them.” He reviewed every student’s file upon their entrance to Hammel, and the psychiatrist kept detailed notes for himself. Many of those entrances led to meetings later on during their tenure at Hammel. Some of those entrances, as with Tori, led to immediate meetings.

“I like to make sure that everyone gets settled properly,” Sean explained further.

Hammel was hardly perfect, because no individual person was perfect, and groups of people were far from perfect, and Hammel was comprised of the decisions and labor of many people. At the same time, Sean was often proud of Hammel, because the staff members were inclusive, and they did what they could to foster an even more welcoming and inclusive environment with every passing day.

Besides, Tori was not the first trans* student to pass through Hammel’s doors, and she would not be the last.

“I hope that you get on well with her,” the psychiatrist remarked. He was familiar with Adaryn, partially because of her powers and partially because of her social anxiety. He knew that, while quiet, she had a gentle presence and a kind heart, and he thought that she would make a good roommate for Tori, once the two girls had gotten to know one another.

“It is a big change for most people,” Sean conceded with a nod, “And so settling in varies from person-to-person. Some of the students come from families with meta-human parents or older siblings, and they tend to adjust more easily. Some students are very extraverted and love their powers almost immediately, which also helps. Other students are shyer or have some concerns about their powers, so it can take longer to adjust. A few weeks or months then. But students find their rhythm eventually.”

The fact that Tori wasn’t out to her parents certainly made this matter a tad more complicated. However, that was nothing that Sean and Hammel couldn’t overcome, given that they had dealt with far more distressing circumstances in the past and likely would in the future. “I’ll make a note of that,” the psychiatrist promised her, so that nobody accidentally outed her. “Also, if you want to be informal, you can call me ‘Doc.’” The form of address was important given how many different entanglements existed at the school.

“Hammel is a year-round school so our break schedule is a little odd when compared to most school schedules,” Sean explained, focusing on the first question that Tori had actually articulated verbally so as to help give her a sense of clarity. Focusing on smaller, practical matters would help to ease her into the bigger issues. Considering the fact that she wasn’t out to her family yet, there were enough bigger issues to discuss shortly. “We have a month off in the summer, from the end of June to the end of July. We have another month off in December to January, and then a spring break in March.”

That was the simplest question. From there, they had to address potential contact with her parents. “Parents are offered opportunities for parent/teacher conferences, and we send out report cards.” There were also disciplinary matters, but given the absence of a record, the psychiatrist saw no reason to lead with that foot. “As for how we’ll handle that, we’ll handle that however you wish to. I’m a liaison between you and the administration, and my notes about your preferences will be used to determine how we interact.”

That was the least they could do in ensuring a safe and comfortable environment.

“So, how would you like us to handle your gender identity when contacting your parents?”

Sean would work at her timeline. Tori was not the first trans* student, or patient, with whom he had worked. He had given the proper diagnosis and prescribed proper treatment for those patients in the past (those who desired medical intervention), and he was willing to do so within the context of the law. Thus, if and when Tori felt comfortable coming out to her parents, he was willing to work with them, on her behalf, in order to help her access the treatment she felt appropriate.

“Of course you can get back to me on that. This isn’t set in stone.” While the psychiatrist would abide by whatever Tori requested of him, insofar as interacting with her parents, she needn’t decide her pace for the entirety of her education at Hammel in this moment. Plans could be revised as her comfort level dictated or as circumstances changed. Anything else would be cruel and would undermine the self-determination that he wanted students to develop regarding their identities.

“Until then, I’ll use your legal name and won’t correct them when we speak. I’m sure this won’t be frequent communication.” Given that Tori’s record had no indications that she would develop into the next Oriel or Jack or Chevalier twin.

One of the nicer aspects of Hammel, as opposed to many other schools, was that there was less overall interaction with parents when the students boarded at Hammel. Students were not forcibly isolated from their parents, and parents had access to their children if they requested, but otherwise there was a fair amount of autonomy. Sean considered this particularly important given the amount of metaphobia that existed in broader culture, and in some families of Hammel recruits. Additionally, it allowed the school to take on the mantle of a safe space and foster comfort with individual identities without students feeling judged each moment by less understanding communities.

Sean returned her smile. Then, in response to her question, he shook his head. “I don’t have anything else on my agenda at the moment. Of course, if there’s anything else that you want to discuss, I’m available for questions.”

The psychiatrist would not cut their meeting short, if Tori had anything else on her mind. However, this was a new student check-in meeting (particularly important given the particular matters that Tori faced). He didn’t want to overwhelm her, and the purpose of calling her in to see him in the first place was to establish an initial connection. In the future, he would want to meet with her again, to discuss how she was adjusting and to further work on her relationship with her family. Now, however, she could get settled and not worry about conversations with the Hammel psychiatrist.