Log Title: Teacher's Conference/Spike's Recovery
Characters: Buster, Sparkplug, Spike, Susan Witwicky
Location: Seattle Memorial Hospital; Home of Judy and Ron Witwicky
TP: Flashbacks
Summary: Susan Witwicky attends a teacher's conference about Buster, and later Sparkplug visits Buster during Spike's recovery.
As logged by Buster - Sunday, September 30, 2012, 11:27 PM
1980[]
1980. Buster's third day into his silent streak after Jeremiah's 'sermon'. Now, Susan is responsible for being the sole parent going to parent teacher conferences. The reason - Sparkplug started a new job 4 months ago. He can't take any time off.
Susan Witwicky
Susan Witwicky breathes out her nose as she heads into the elementary school. She knows Buster's silence will be a major point of contention. Goddamnit, why couldn't Sparkplug help! Oh yeah... his job.
Susan Witwicky looks around the elementary school. She grins warmly, looking at the small desks and round tables and 'assignment' lists. Memories of her old job start flooding back, even though it was high school.
Buster's teacher waiting in her classroom at her desk, grading papers
Susan Witwicky makes a mental note to pick up pizza for the family tonight. She knows she'll have stuff to talk about for Spike and Buster. Not to
mention both Sparkplug and Susan talking to Spike and Buster about their obsession with Star Wars. Liking the movie is fine, but since virtually
everything out of their mouths has been Star Wars lately...boundaries must be obeyed.
Susan Witwicky smiles and knocks on the door.
- <OOC> Susan Witwicky says, "If it's cool, can she also give Spike a brief eval. Sort of 'good news/bad news' scenario - will leave it up to you to
decide which kid is the more problematic."
Buster's teacher looks up from her desk and smiles. "Come in," she says welcomingly
- <OOC> Buster LOL
- <OOC> Buster says, "What grades would they both be in, then, again?"
- <OOC> Susan Witwicky says, "Buster 5 (1st grade?) Spike 9 (4th grade)"
Susan Witwicky's face lights up. "Hey!" She extends a hand. "I"m Susan Witwicky." She automatically goes into excuse mode. "My husband JUST started a
new job, so he couldn't get off work. But trust me - he is VERY involved...almost obsessed - with our kids' school. I mean...not BAD obsessed...but
extremely interested," Susan says, laying it on a bit thick.
Buster's teacher smiles patiently, used to hearing this from 30 mothers a day during parent/teacher week.
Susan Witwicky grins. "Buster...absolutely ADORES you, by the way!"
Buster's teacher stands and offers Susan a seat across from her desk. "Why thank you. I adore him as well -- although I'm a little concerned about his
lack of verbal communication lately in the classroom, and I'm grateful for a chance to talk to you about it. If you don't mind me asking - is everything
alright at home?"
Susan Witwicky looks around, hoping to curry favor with the teacher. "Wow...talk about memories!" She smiles "I used to teach high school...I
mean...still do - on occasion - like substitute."
Susan Witwicky's eyes widen. "Look...I know! I...we have a speech therapist - " She pulls out a card for the therapist. She says hurriedly "I've tried everything - but no punishing! I mean, we punish, but we believe in positive reinforcement...like Spock says! It's just...nothing's working!"
Susan Witwicky says sheepishly "There...was...uh...there...was ONE incident...involving his grandfather. See - he's a minister...part time. And he's one of those Old Testament ministers - and I think he said a few things that may have scared my son, but I've been telling my son that there are thousands of Biblical scholars who believe something else! And he...seems to grasp that, but he just hasn't been able to talk. Not even his speech therapist has been able to make any progress! I want you to know we're working on this! I've told Spike...that until William...his father - and I say so - he is not to tease him."" Susan massages her temple with her middle and index finger and smiles nervously at Buster's teacher who also has Spike's records. "He...Buster...has done this before... gotten really quiet when things...get hairy or when he finds trouble coping with certain things alien to him. That's why we bought a speech therapist for him!"
Buster's teacher listens to the flood of explanation, and the finally asks, "So, this has happened with Buster before?"
Susan Witwicky closes her eyes. "Yes..." She looks at Buster's teacher. "Look, we're really trying!"
Buster's teacher asks, "How long did he take him to recover last time?"
Susan Witwicky sighs. "Maybe a few hours?
A few grown-up kids were teasing him for mispronouncing his 's'."
Buster's teacher frowns. "Well, it's certainly been more than a few hours this time."
Susan Witwicky frowns as well. "Look...I KNOW this is a problem - and I want you to know, we're doing all we can! And I know it has to be difficult for you!"
Buster's teacher says, "Well, I'm more concerned about Buster's difficulties in this case."
Susan Witwicky says, "What about his grades? Have they suffered?""
Buster's teacher says, "Not yet, but taking part in class is an important part of schoolwork, and that has never been one of Buster's strong points already."
Susan Witwicky nods. She looks at the teacher and pleads. "Look..he's a sensitive boy. And look at his reading! It's through the roof - he's reading at
maybe a 3rd grade level. It's just... I'm trying. All of us are!"
In Spike's file - like Buster - higher than average reading comprehension. Areas to improve - he tends to not follow direction - wanting to figure stuff
out on his own. And good god, get a grip on that kid's imagination.
Buster's teacher smiles reassuringly. "I know. Both your sons are very smart -- Spike is two years ahead in science, and has NO problem participating in
class," she adds with a tad too much emphasis. "But this problem with Buster needs to be addressed before it progresses too far. Should I set up an
appointment with the school counselor? I'm not sure this is a problem for the speech therapist alone."
Susan Witwicky's eyes widen with concern. "It's that serious?"
She says, almost pleading. "Look...I can't stress this enough - our kids... mean everything to us! And we are taking this very seriously!"
Buster's teacher leans forward on her desk. "Yes, Mrs. Witwicky, it is. This isn't mere shyness."
Buster's teacher should know since no doubt Buster has no doubt probably talked about his mom every now and then.
Susan Witwicky nods and folds her hands. "I know..."
Susan Witwicky says calmly "I...just...can't FIND the correct diagnosis," Susan says in the pre-Google age.
Buster's teacher leans back. "All the more reason to talk to a professional about nipping this in the bud. I'm not suggesting it has anything to do with
your parenting skills - you are obviously quite enganged. But problems at home can greatly impact a child's ability to focus and learn in school."
Susan Witwicky says, "Is there something I'm not doing?
How are his grades doing ...this past week?"
Buster's teacher repeats, "Like I said, his grades so far are fine. Buster's bright enough to complete all his work in silence, without asking questions."
Susan Witwicky's eyes widen hopefully. "And Spike?" She
adds "We REALLY try to provide a nurturing home. I just wish you could meet my husband. And again - he's absolutely crushed he can't make
it to this conference (Susan will tell Sparkplug tonight that there was a parent teachers conference).
Buster's teacher smiles. "Spike... is a handful, and more than one teacher has joked about taping him to his seat. But he's bright and responsive, and
whatever's going on at home, he seems to be weathering it well."
Susan Witwicky says, "There's... nothing though. I mean, we had that ONE dinner, but his grandfather RARELY comes over."
She gets up and says wearily. "Look...we are not perfect, but I can say that any son or daughter could do a helluva lot worse than Sparkplug
and myself. We WILL get to the bottom of this!"
Buster's teacher nods. "Still, Buster needs to develop other coping skills rather than increasingly withdraw under stress. Will you consider talking
with a counselor? I've seen Michelle make great strides with students with similar difficulties."
Susan Witwicky says, "Absolutely..."
She extends a hand. "THanks so much..and again - I know how stressful this is on you. But I mean it when I say that Buster thinks the world
and all of you!"
Buster's teacher smiles. "Good. Here's her card with her number. If there's any way I can help, please, just ask."
She stands and takes Susan's hand. "He thinks the world of you, as well. Both your sons are lucky to have the two of you as parents."
Susan Witwicky raises her brow. "It doesn't feel like it. But yes, please, let's get this consoler thing off and running."
Buster's teacher smiles reassuringly. "All parents feel that way, I promise -- except the ones that don't care, and therefore are the only ones who should."
Susan Witwicky nods. "I...I mean, we will work on Spike too...getting him to maybe better control that...enthusiasm."
She jokes, "Tonight we're going to try to get him from talking about Star Wars...that's all he seems to care about recently."
Buster's teacher chuckles.
Susan Witwicky says, "Just...call me if you need me though, day or night. I want this problem solved."
Buster's teacher nods. "I will. Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Witwicky."
Seattle Memorial Hospital[]
Spacious and modern, yet clean and functional -- that's the entire idea behind the broad hallways and shining corridors of Seattle Memorial Hospital. A healthy, antiseptic aroma pervades every nook and cranny of this facility, and it's professionally quiet. The only sounds are from distantly dinging elevators, and the occasional clicking footsteps against the tiles...doctors and nurses, making their rounds from room to room.
- Contents
- Dr. Nordhaus
1993. The recovery continues. Spike's on a walker, trying his best to walk a straight line. Which is far more than most doctors expected when Spike was attacked months ago.
Spike winces and tries to pull himself forward. His upper body getting stronger, but the lower extremities still feeling like dead weight. His motor coordination is still totally out of whack. His awkwardness causes him to stumble and finally fall onto his walker. "NoNoNoNoNoNo!"
Sparkplug moves in quickly to help his son. "Easy. You're doing great!" he says encouragingly.
Spike grabs onto his dad and then looks at the wheelchair. "Ch..ch..chai..chahi.."
He points to the wheelchair repeatedly.
Sparkplug shakes his head slowly. "Not yet, son. Finish your walk. Just a few feet further. You can do it."
Spike frowns and crawls to the walker and slowly proceeds to finish the brutal workout. Spike's arms shudder violently.
"Fff..ffu..fuck..Ff..Ff..Fre..Frenzy!"
Sparkplug smiles proudly. "Good job, son!" Only now does he help Spike back to his wheelchair.
Spike finishes the walk to the end of the hallway. But he feels like he's he's going to fall. "Ch..Ch...Chair!"
Sparkplug offers his help, although he still makes Spike do part of the walking.
Spike collapses into his wheelchair. He then gives an appreciative nod to his father.
Sparkplug repeats his praise for his son, adding, "You can't keep a good Witwicky down!"
Spike looks up at his father. "Bus...Bus...Bus...Bus...her...terr..where? Bus...ter?"
Sparkplug dithers, looking away in embarrassment.
Spike nods, though the words aren't coming quickly - he somehow gets it. He looks at his father. In a few months, Sparkplug will have an aneurysm that
will change his life as well. And the last few months, he's started to really show his age. The stresses of caring for a near comatose son, his work
with the Autobots, and his other son's failing grades finally starting to take a physical toll.
Sparkplug allows, "He's still at Ron and Judy's. He has a lot of homework I'm making him finish first before he comes by."
Spike smiles at Sparkplug and pats his father's arm. "Take...night...off...deserve it."
fishes in his book bag. He has a portable CD player. "Music...you buy? Ask...Carly...will...pay...want...some CDs."
Sparkplug looks down at the CD player. "Sure, son!" he says quickly, happy to change the subject.
Sparkplug grins. "Cole Porter?" he teases
Spike stammers. "Jam...Pearl...Jam..Jam...Pearl... no...title. Jam...Pearl." He adds "And new Nirvana...Ask record...cc...clerk..." He looks up at
Sparkplug and shrugs, grinning. "Su...su...sure."
Sparkplug feigns confusion. "Jam Pearl? That's a weird name for a band, but whatever you want, son." He grins.
Spike rolls himself back to his room. He looks over at his father. "Want...you...to...take...few nights off...though. Need re..rest..."
Sparkplug says seriously, "I'll be back tomorrow morning, and every day, until you're well."
Spike shakes his head. "Ask...cl..clerk..." He then crawls up to his bed. He nods again. "Thanks..."
Sparkplug pats his son on the shoulder affectionately, and heads out so Spike can get some rest.
Judy and Ron's[]
Meanwhile, Buster is in his bedroom reading an advance copy of 'The Giver' by Lois Lowry.
Around 11 a.m. on a Saturday. He's definitely not supposed to be near Buster per Buster's pleas. But it's gone beyond a breaking point. He knows Ron and Judy are out. Sparkplug looks at an envelope - its contents - an '84 foreclosure notice. Time to finally level with his other proble..son. He takes a breath and unlocks the door, and creeps in.
Buster crouches on his bed, engrossed in the story.
Sparkplug tiptoes inside. The last few months have aged Sparkplug like no other. Bags are under his eyes.
Buster seems much more involved with Lois Lowry's fictional world than his own.
Sparkplug looks upstairs to the ever-present shut door and creeps up.
He clinches his jaw, creeping up to his son's room.
For the sake of time and argument, let's just say that Buster may be so lulled into complacency with the ever-present 'We will always knock' rule that
he no longer feels the need to lock his door.
- <OOC> Buster says, "Sounds good to me. He's too distracted anyway, and no one is home."
Sparkplug's eyes widen with anxiety as he gently places his hand on the doorknob in Buster's room... and opens it - revealing Sparkplug. Before Buster
can react, Sparkplug raises his hands. "Hold on...hold on ... hold on!"
Buster looks up, his blue eyes widening in confused surprise.
Sparkplug says, "I know you don't want to see me, just... five minutes, OK?""
Sparkplug has changed, appearance wise so much with the extended lack of sleep he's invested in getting Spike to even form words and walk that Buster
may indeed have done a double-take.
Buster definitely looks shocked, and asks dumbfoundedly, "What are you doing here?"
Sparkplug says, "Son...your grades - what is going on?!""
Buster says, "My- my grades? What are you talking about?"
He stands, putting the book face-down on his bed, careful not to loose his page, even in his shock.
Sparkplug nods slowly. "Son... you were on honor roll last year. Now... you're barely getting Cs and it's your last year. College is right around the
corner, son!
Just...tell me what is going wrong. Do you need a tutor?"
Buster says, "A tutor? Dad, what are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be with your son?"
Sparkplug says, "That's why I'm here.... son... c'mon, please. What is going on with your grades?
I'm not here about Spike."
Buster says, "What do you think? Jeez, you think maybe I might have other things going on besides stupid classes that are beneath me?"
Sparkplug pulls a chair from Buster's desk out and sits down. "Ok... like... what else is going on?"
He says hopefully "Spike's out of danger... that should alleviate some stress."
Buster says, "That's great... is that why you're here?"
Sparkplug looks at Buster sympathetically. "You know... while I was working the oil rigs, I had to to a LOT of stuff that I thought was beneath me, but I
had to do it 'cause it was my job." He points to Buster's textbook. "Just like school is your job, son."
He focuses in on Buster, but again, Sparkplug's harried look is unmistakable, a product of the candle burning at 3 ends. "You're smarter than
this, Buster. I KNOW it."
Buster says, "Yeah, yeah. And if I need to, I'll bring things up. But it's the end of the year, and none of this is going to matter. I can't afford
school anyway, so what does it matter?"
Sparkplug says, "'I' will pay...somehow.
You've got a lot of ground to make up, son."
Buster says, "Oh, with Spike's medical bills? Yeah, right. We'll all be back on your oil rig.
Let me figure this out with Ron and Judy."
Sparkplug looks at Buster with heavy eyes. "No...you're my son. We're going to figure this out between us.
They...are your aunt and uncle."
Buster snorts derisively. "They have been my only family since Spike and you left, remember? Don't think you can just swoop in now and try to be Dad of
the Year."
His anger starts building quickly, and his pale fists clench
Sparkplug nods and says "I deserve that..." he then sighs and pulls out a heavy white envelope and passes it to Buster. "This all started with that oil
rig job, didn't it."
Inside the envelope are a few 'FINAL NOTICE - ELECTRICITY SHUTOFF' and 'FORECLOSURE DELAY:PENDING' he looks at Buster. "Suppose I should have showed you
this years ago... but THIS is why I had to take that job at that oil rig."
Buster looks at the pile of envelopes uncomprehendingly. "What does this have to do with anything?" he spits at his father, shoving it back at him
physically and rhetorically.
Sparkplug's back slouches slightly. He's never shown Spike or let on to Spike and Buster just how close they were to homelessness before he took that
fated job. A mark of failure that big, a Witwicky usually keeps to themselves.
He says, "I...took that job because it was the only thing that could save our house. And then... when the Autobots came..." He shakes his head.
"Son... with my salary, there's no way I could have put you and Buster though college. So...I had this...idea...see?""
Buster says, "I don't care! I'd have rather had a dad!
It's not like we have a home or money for school anyway!"
Sparkplug rubs his fatigued eyes. "I thought... if we could have... if 'I' could have found a way to take our knowledge of their culture - we would have
been paid - your college, Spike's college would have been provided for." He sighs "You loved Star Wars so much...I just assumed... you would have loved
it there. But I was wrong. But at the time...I just thought...give you a few years and then you'd join us."
Sparkplug nods. "I realize that now...son. And I don't feel proud that I lost...our house (including every remaining memory - physically - of Susan
minus her possessions).
Buster sighs, the fight going out of him.
"Look, Dad, I know. It's fine. But I have a new family now, and you can't just come barging in here pretending like you're still my dad. You're not. Ron
is.
If Ron has a problem with me, I'll discuss it with him."
Sparkplug pauses and nods. Closing his eyes, tears are flowing freely. "I'm so sorry...son. I'm sorry I failed you..." He looks at Buster, eyes reddened with shame and despair.
Buster frowns, realizing he's gone too far, but too inexperienced to know how not to make it worse.
Sparkplug says, "But please don't punish yourself with your grades! I KNOW in my heart of hearts you're going to exceed beyond your wildest dreams in college.""
Buster says, "You didn't. You're fine. But you made your choice."
That line has pretty much reduced Sparkplug to a shell. Even in front of his son now, the once-invincible father figure looks weak and defeated.
"Just...please... I want to help with your college. Let me do this ONE thing!"
Buster says, "I'm not 'punishing' myself. Don't be so dramatic. It just doesn't matter. I have my own plans for the future."
Sparkplug raises his eyebrow. An opening? "Oh? And what's that?"
Buster says, "You'll see. You might even be proud."
Sparkplug says, "Son...I'll always be proud of you."
Buster says, "Great. Well, you go take care of Spike, and I'll let you know what I come up with. THings are still up in the air."
Sparkplug sighs and looks at Buster, pride in his eyes. "I can do that later. Why don't we grab a burger. No strings attached. I'll buy."
Sparkplug looks at Buster.
"It's just a burger - "
Buster sighs. "I'd rather not now, Dad. I'm busy. Another time."
Sparkplug nods. He looks at Buster hopefully. "Another time then?"
Buster says, "Sure, Dad. Whatever."
Sparkplug smiles. 'Dad' never sounded so good.
He says, "Spike asked about you today in physical therapy..."
Sparkplug hopes that bringing his other son's name up won't result in the burning of any bridges.
Buster picks up his book and throws himself back on the bed, pretending indifference. "Yeah? How's he doing?"
Sparkplug was going to try to hug his son, but it looks like that's a no-go. "Well... he's forming sentences, and he was able to walk to the end of the
hallway with a walker." He adds "And Carly appreciated the gift you gave Daniel."
Buster looks up, blinking. Gift...?
- <OOC> Buster says, "I was figuring that Ron and Judy would send out gifts signed from him, since he's an irresponsible teen. =)"
Sparkplug shakes his head. "He wants me to by the new Jam Pearl Untitled CD, whatever that means - and the new Nirvana.
Buster says, "Compact discs? Ugh."
Sparkplug says, "Again... he really misses you. But I'm not here because of him.""
Buster says, "Yeah, well.... glad he's getting better."
Sparkplug asks awkwardly "Do you need anything?"
Buster says, "Nah, I'm good. See ya."
Buster goes back to his book.
Sparkplug smiles awkwardly at Buster. Still...that hurt. "OK... well, let me know if you need anything, son."
Buster says, "Sure thing, Dad. Have a good one."
Buster ignores his dad 'til he leaves
Back in 93 - Sparkplug trods down the steps, tears now flowing freely, but he keeps it inside. His son's indifference finds a way to open wounds he didn't even know he had.
OOC Outtakes[]
- <OOC> Buster says, "Go Teen Buster! Teens are assholes... and now you know!"
Sparkplug, do distraught from the chew-out, he left the papers detailing the despair he hid from his sons.
- <OOC> Sparkplug says, "woo! *plays Dennis Leary's 'Asshole'"
- <OOC> Buster says, "Ay! Ess Ess! Ach Oh! El Ee!"
- <OOC> Susan Witwicky lols.