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If Sean could only have two professional accomplishments in his lifetime, he would die content if those accomplishments were imbuing a generation of children with the skills necessary to have confident, happy, safe sex lives, and if he could undo the stigma surrounding mental health treatment. The psychiatrist did what he could to encourage students and other staff to view mental health the same way he did: every bit as necessary and as valid as physical health and treatment. He also – unsurprisingly as a mental health professional – didn’t view attending therapy sessions as a weakness.

Most people – including introverts – could benefit from having someone with whom to talk, as a means of escaping the echo chamber of one’s mind.

There were other reasons to meet with the psychiatrist, aside from pure therapy sessions. Sean wore many hats at Hammel, had worn many hats since joining the staff during the first Bush’s administration. He taught the Sexual Education Seminar each summer and answered all questions related to relationships, sex, and reproductive health. He was the principle disciplinarian for anything that didn’t require Yvette’s intervention and monitored alternate detention schemes. He was the advisor to the Student Activities Council and thus met with members of the council and those who had propositions for review. He offered support to students coping with budding psychic struggles. He met with students to offer guidance services and to aid with college applications, family problems, and other academic services short of tutoring or grade reviews. If students struggled with a subject, he had the ability to intervene.

Sean was aware of Alexis’s difficulty with math. She wasn’t the first student to struggle with math, and she wouldn’t be the last. The psychiatrist had never been a math prodigy, but he had a strong enough grasp on it to have survived pre-medical academic requirements and to thrive in the medical profession. He worked with learning disability management, and some of the coping skills could be utilized by those who did not have learning disabilities as a means of navigating difficult subjects. He believed that he could help her.

Sean had a second reason for wanting to meet with her; he was familiar with her brother, since Ethan had come through Hammel only a few years ago. The psychiatrist had a long history of keeping his eye on students who had troublesome aspects of their personalities, even after the students had reached maturity and graduated.

Certain events in the past few years had demonstrated the necessity of that.

That was in the back of his mind when Alexis arrived at his office door and knocked. The large psychiatrist sat behind his desk with a mug of coffee to one side, her file and a math text book on his desk. Unfortunately for her, he was in and ready. “Please come in, Alexis,” he called out to her, “Make yourself comfortable.”

Sean didn’t view her behavior as aggressive. The arrangement of furniture in his office was purely a matter of comfort and wasn’t designed as the first level of analysis for student behavior via their choices.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” the psychiatrist replied, before extending one large hand across his desk, offering a handshake. He wasn’t forward with all of the students; he adapted to the personalities of those who found themselves in his office. The shyer or more anxious ones were treated with kid gloves, while the more assertive students were met more affirmatively. Sean was always mindful of behavior, always mindful of his size and his authority. Even when his methods were less than orthodox, he never tried to be frightening.

He knew the difference between fear and respect; while he worked toward the latter, he never desired to induce the former.

“You aren’t wasting my time at all,” he reassured her. The sentiment was a common one; far too many students came to his office with the impression that his time was so important that they couldn’t impose. Never mind that his primary duty was meeting with students, and that they were entitled to meet with him for whatever their reasons were: academic, family-related, social, emotional, or otherwise. Meeting her eyes for steady eye contact, he added, “That’s why I’m here, after all.”

At the other remark, he shook his head slightly. “I’m more of an all-purpose provider. Not every meeting with me is therapy in the psychological sense.”

He was happy to elaborate on that, if she asked, but he didn’t pontificate. For that same reason, he said, “For the record, I’m a psychiatrist. Psychiatrists are medical doctors; psychologists have doctorates,” (most of them) and left it at that. They could discuss professional accreditation later, if she showed any interest in that topic at all.

First things first. “How are you doing today?”