Same story, but in elementary school. One thing I forgot to mention is that he tries really, really hard to get other kids to like him. Like, if his family won't, at least he can have friends, right? Right? I mean in this one it kinda works, so... Anyway. Parent Teacher Conferences are just the best, aren't they?
"He's extremely smart," she tells his father. "I've never seen anything like it before. He absorbs knowledge very quickly, and retains it better than most other students. I'm constantly pushed to find new material for him."
"He's an amazing student," she tells his father. "He always listens in class, and is a joy to be around. He's kind to the other students, and is willing to be in a group with anyone and everyone. He believes everyone can be his friend, and is kind to them."
"He is always ready to learn," she tells his father. "He always seems so happy to be here. It's as if we're teaching something that will take him to infinity and beyond. His face lights up with every new thing we learn. I can tell he wants to be here."
And he stares at his hands. They stare back, so many lines and colors that all connect to make the human body. They've been learning about how skin is an organism, how it's alive. He wonders if it has a mind of its own, and if it is, if it wants to be friends with him. That's the kind of thing he can't say if he wants people to like him, but can think when he's staring at his hands.
His father's hand is on his shoulder, reminding him that he is there, he is there, he's at the school, and everything will be ruined. He's tried so, so hard to get this teacher to like him. Not, like, overly hard, because he's attempting to be friends with actual people, but he's tried. Yet - now, because his father is here, it's all going to fall through.
"That's wonderful," his father says, and his voice is calm. He does not sound like it is wonderful, so he looks at his hands (and they stare back). "I'm grateful he's been doing so well. Is there anything we can work on? Surely, he can improve somewhere."
He stares at his hands, while the teacher says, "Well, yes, I suppose. The entire class has been working on quieting down during transitions. He could also improve in that - he's extremely ready to learn when in 'learn mode' - I want to make sure you understand that. But sometimes, when I'm ready to teach, he's still talking to his friends."
He stares at his hands, and doesn't say that if he doesn't talk to him, they won't like him anymore. He doesn't say that he's the fastest to get into 'learn mode.' He doesn't mention that he's trying, and that at least he has friends, not like his brother who can't talk to anyone - he doesn't. He's holding his hands so tightly now that they're turning white, and his father's grip on his shoulder is excruciatingly tight.
"Thank you," his father says, and his voice is calm. He doesn't sound very grateful. "We'll talk about that, and see if there's anything we can do to start a change in that habit." Then she changes the subject, and they talk about something else. And it's - it's very interesting. Because he had thought his father would ruin things, with his teacher, with the class, with everything.
But he didn't. His teacher had. He stares at his hands, and wonders if she meant to, or if she just… doesn't know that it doesn't matter how smart he is if she then says he's not.