Karen-Teacher Conference

On the street in front of Shiketsu Academy, a bright red sports car pulls up. The convertible top is down, letting in the breeze to ruffle the wide brimmed hat of the woman in the passenger’s seat. She holds it on with one hand, the other draped around the wide shoulders of the man at the wheel. A bright yellow ribbon that encircles her hat settles behind her. “Go ahead and find us a parking spot, sweet pea,” she requests around a wad of gum in her mouth. She pats the man’s shoulder and leans in to kiss him on the cheek, then swivels out of her seat.

In a fancy, ruffled white and yellow dress ensemble with a pair of white lacey heels, the woman struts towards the school doors. Her dark hair hangs around her shoulders, pink highlights in her bangs framing a pair of sunglasses that she nudges down as she passes the threshold of artificial lighting. Flipping a phone out of her purse, she taps out a text message.

where r we meeting?
hi mom well the to the classroom leave right right upon leave

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Leaning back behind his desk, Ryusei spins a pencil between his fingers impatiently. Across from him, Yasu sits in a chair tapping on his phone. He’s been waiting in the hallway for an hour while other students who were scheduled for after him go first, because his parents are late to arrive. Supposedly they’re now in the building, but it’s been fifteen minutes.

Then, at last, the door to the room slides open. A woman in posh clothing steps through, carrying her large hat in one hand with her tacky leopard-pattern purse draped over the other shoulder. What first looks like a bright white pearl necklace around her collarbone, Ryusei notices, is actually growing out of her skin.

“They could use better signage in this school, darling,” Iwata Suzu tells her son, walking up to the desk. She looks at the student chair beside Yasu and makes a disgusted face. “I’ll stand,” she says. “Let’s make this quick, then?”

Pursing his lips, Ryusei resists the urge to tell her off for being late and then demanding he be fast. Teacher now, has to maintain a respectable… façade, at least. “Certainly, ma’am,” he forces out, taking Yasu’s report card from the desk and holding it out for her. The woman looks at it like he’d handed her a used tissue and plucks the folder from him, opening it up.

Immediately scowling, she flips through, “Why are his grades so bad?”

As diplomatically as he can manage, Ryusei folds his hands in front of him. He glances at Yasu, who’s still staring at his phone. “Ma’am, Yasu has been having difficulty focusing in class, as well as in basic reading and writing. Has he been-”

“Well isn’t it your job to teach him?”

“- assessed for anything like ADHD, or dyslexia?” Ryusei finishes despite the woman’s interruption. She doesn’t even respond to the second half of his statement, standing there expectantly as if waiting for him to answer her. Sighing, he repeats, “Has he been assessed-”

“No, he hasn’t,” she swings her hand dismissively, “Yas-yas is a perfectly bright boy. He uses the internet just fine, and that’s all words, so how could he have dyslexia?” Suzu demands, pointing a long, sharp nail at Ryusei. “His grades only started dropping after he came to your school, so what’s the problem?”

We have standards, Ryusei thinks to himself, but restrains his mouth from running away and saying it. “According to the records from his old school, he had an assigned EA. But there was no diagnos-?”

“No, there wasn’t,” Suzu snaps at him, clearly upset at having to repeat herself. She looks away and shrugs. “If that’ll help, just do that again. And if his grades don’t go up,” she tries and fails to snap her fingers, the gesture obstructed by the giant sparkling gel nails on her fingers, “I’ll be having a talk with your boss. I’ll have you know I work for the Majestic Agency.”

… Suddenly, Yasu’s passing grades in Heroics start to click with his sensei. “I see.”

The door opens again. A heavyset, balding man waddles through wearing a wide grin. He’s clad in a flowery Hawaiian style shirt, and a broad pair of brown cargo shorts. “I’m here!”

Yasu’s father flops into the chair next to his son, nudging the boy’s shoulder with a large-knuckled hand. Yasu looks up from his phone for once to smile. “How’s the interview going, sport?”

“Okay. We were just finishing,” Yasu says, getting up from his chair. His mother is already halfway to the door. Sora licks his lips and watches them go.

“I’ll be right out!” he calls. Suzu rolls her eyes, but doesn’t argue. After they leave, Sora looks across the table at Ryusei. “Oh. I guess they took it, huh. Do you have another copy of that report card?” Moving around a few windows on his laptop, Ryusei turns it for Sora to see. The man leans forward and peers at the scores. He lets out a mournful whistle. “Pretty bad damage, huh?”

“Has he been assessed for anything?” Ryusei repeats the question, praying to any gods that might be listening that this is the reasonable parent.

“No. He and his mother are really touchy about it,” with an understanding look, the heavyset man leans back in his seat, the wood creaking.

“His mother…?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m not his bio dad,” Sora quickly clarifies. “Yasu’s biological father isn’t in the picture. He’s from before we got married.”

“Sorry, I’d just assumed,” flipping through some of his files as though it should have been stated somewhere, Ryusei reiterates, “Would we be able to assess him at all?”

“As long as you don’t put it on any records I don’t think she’ll care. And he doesn’t like taking medicine. But,” fishing in his pocket, Sora takes out his phone. “I’ve been looking at different phone apps with him, before. Ones that help you read when you have dyslexia.” Ryusei’s pretty sure there’s more than just dyslexia wrong with Yasu’s head, but he pulls his chair forward to listen as Sora goes on about the different apps and their pros and cons, nodding along. Maybe something here would help him find a place to get started.