Parent of a former Hyde student shares experience

Parent of a former Hyde Student shares experience

I. Sitting in Associate Head of School Mike Dawes’ office during our initial interview, I wasn’t convinced that the Hyde School was a logical fit for our family. For sure, our son, then 16, was in deep trouble... smoking dope four times a day, maxxed out oppositional defiant behavior... ach, you’ve heard it all a thousand times. So had Mike, and the self-deprecating way he described his alcoholism, the destructive ways Mike Jr. had behaved until they found the Hyde School, how he and Lynn both ended up working there, and his strong belief that we would all heal if we stepped inside the Hyde circle, made a persuasive case.

And yet, there was something troubling about the deifying language Mike used when he discussed the school’s 77-year-old founder, Joe Gauld. Mike told me, however, that Hyde would welcome the challenging but open-minded attitude I seemed to possess, and my wife had a good feeling about the place. So absolutely, I said, I’d be happy to read both Gauld’s Character First: The Hyde School, and the one his son Malcolm Gauld penned with his wife Laura, The Biggest Job We’ll Ever Have, and consider enrolling our son at Hyde in the Fall. Malcolm, Hyde’s current President, and his sisters Laurie and Gigi, are all employed at the school’s Woodstock, CT, and Bath, Maine campuses, as are the aforementioned Mrs. Malcolm Gauld and Gigi’s husband Don. So are a number of other old friends and family members.

Lauren was also eager to read this literature. Fortunately, after a brief period of discord that occurred when he commenced his Fellini-like dissolve from being “the nicest boy in the 8th grade,” (as Janet, a classmate’s mom said when she stopped us one warm June night in the summer of 200X while we were walking across the local Little League complex) into a youngster whose main goal seemed to be to front the next coming of the seminal rap group NWA (laudable, actually, that one), my wife and I had seen eye-to-eye every step of the way. All of us, including his brothers, who is two years his junior, would benefit from this confluence of purpose and opinion.

Troubled by a streak of megalomania in Joe’s writing wide enough to plow a Humvee through, we nonetheless decided, after reading these books and considering the escalating magnitude of our situation (an outburst later that summer landed our son in juvenile detention for two weeks and an outdoor program in Utah for nine), to drive him to Hyde immediately after his stay at the Aspen Achievement Academy ended on September 3rd, 200X.

Although I would end up being terribly mistreated by Joe Gauld, Head of School Duncan McCrann, and several other staff members, our experience of Hyde is dappled with other, brighter colors as well. Institutions, including the largest (the “United States,” the “Catholic Church”), and smaller ones like the Hyde school or your local board of education, don’t really exist at all. In most cases, a swirl of perspectives, values, and personalities are constantly engaging and competing with one another to define the environment. We found a number of caring and committed staff members at Hyde, and until we were forced to leave--- and beyond --- valued the contributions they made to the healing of our family. But there’s also a deep streak of dishonesty and hypocrisy at Hyde, and ours is a story of the damage that this disreputable behavior --- call it the Jekyll side of Hyde --- can do.

II. “I’m about to introduce you to a man who will change your lives,” declared Holly Thompson as she presented Joe Gauld to the group of 20 or so Hyde parents who were at the Family Learning Center I attended in the Fall of 200X. Each year, parents are asked to attend an FLC without their partner. Over the course of three days Hyde puts them through a series of confrontational experiences intended to shake the tree and lead to a deeper sense of self. Beyond the sophomoric content --- one drill asks you to imagine that you’re a butterfly emerging from the chrysalis --- and the fact that none of the group leaders have any therapeutic training, positive stuff often comes out of these meetings. Assembling herds of mostly bright adults who are eager to grow (if only for their kid’s sake) and are willing to try and help others going through similar heartaches can be healing.

But I recoiled at Holly’s intro, and the pontific nod Joe gave as he accepted her fealty. Then, after listening to Gauld pour out his life story like it was streaming from him for the first time (Hyde parents hear these routines, repeated nearly verbatim, three or four times a year), I watched as Joe went around the room asking people to say a few words about themselves. It quickly became apparent that the principle purpose of these brief interactions was to give Gauld the opportunity to display his great gifts of insight and understanding. Often interrupting a person in mid-idea, he would tell her exactly what she needed to be working on over the weekend, and then move on to the next person. I was hoping that time would expire before Joe got to me, but that didn’t happen, and so I told him the truth; that I had some long term issues with my mother and was hoping to use the weekend to address them. Stepping on my words, Joe informed me that I was far too analytical, and not where I needed to be emotionally. Allow me to pull off the highway for a moment...

I studied the Torah with my rabbi for seven years. In preparation for both of our kids’ Bar Mitzvahs I read this book from cover to cover looking for an appropriate text to reference in my remarks. Perhaps you recall a story from the Book of Numbers that begins when a thirsting community turns against Moses and his brother Aaron. Back in the House of Meeting God tells Moses that he must return to the Israelites and order his staff to deliver water from a rock; instead, Moses pounds the rock with his staff. Water flows, but God tells Moses "Because you did not trust me... you will not lead this congregation into the land that I have given them." Moses is denied not for disobedience, but because he lost faith.

I mentioned this story to our son at the time of his Bar Mitzvah, said that I hoped his life would be governed by faith and purpose, and that principled leadership flows naturally from them, not blind obedience. Certainly no Maimonedes-like flash of insight, but thoughtful enough. One thing I can tell you for sure about the Torah and the centuries of collected interpretations known as Midrash is that everyone who approaches it is encouraged, make that REQUIRED, to explore the Torah’s meaning. Your right to question anyone’s analysis is inviolable, and there’s just one rule: as long as a single toe is touching the text, the rabbis say, any analysis is valid. In short, critical thinking is part of each step in the growth process!

Ok, so how do I square a commitment to this ancient tradition of open-minded intercourse with the fact that I’m sitting before a pompous ass who’s saying that in about 90 seconds he’s discovered all he needs to know about me (and the guy sitting next to me, and the lady on his left) in order to prescribe exactly which changes we have to make over the course of the next 72 hours, a person who will brook no questioning of his perspective? As respectfully as I could, I told Gauld that I appreciated his concern, but that his analysis of me was not correct. Spreading his palm broadly to the gathered crowd, Joe said, “I think these people would all agree with me.” Don’t care if they do! said I, and that was that.

Later, at a meeting held in the auditorium for first year parents, a staff member invited anyone who had a complaint about the school to voice it. When I got up and said that it seemed obvious that Joe Gauld makes snapshot judgments about people, determines how they are to be handled, and then “that which the high priest proclaims, the adoring acolytes execute,” well, you should have heard the reaction. I’ve spoken before large groups many times, but have rarely been accorded the rock star-like treatment I got at that moment. Many folks, it seemed, had already been bruised by Joe, and didn’t like it one damned bit. I should have known that openly stating the obvious would, however, ultimately lead to our excommunication from Hyde.

Each seminar attendee is required, on the last night of the FLC weekend, to write a letter to someone --- anyone --- he chooses. I, of course, composed a missive to my mom in which I outlined the history of our conflict and shared an insight that I had gained over the course of the weekend: I had, metaphorically, spent my life “sleeping with a pistol by my pillow, determined that no one would beat me to the draw,” all the while completely unaware of how deeply frightened and defensive I was. I thought this was pretty good stuff. In fact, impelled by the insight, I detoured off the Tappan Zee Bridge on the way home and went directly to my mom’s apartment, rang the doorbell, and hugged her before saying a word. But Holly, who was the group leader, had already been programmed, and so she said that I was being too intellectual, etc., etc. When our son read his letter she told him that she impressed with the integrity it contained, especially since this trait hadn’t been modeled by his father during the course of the weekend.

Were there positive elements of our Hyde experience that balanced this junk? Absolutely. In particular, the staff performed superbly during a crisis we endured over the Christmas vacation of 200X. We had invited a classmate to spend a few days with us, and he showed up at about 3 a.m. one night... late I know, but this kid had no family, and found himself with nowhere to stay one night, and so we told him to drive from Connecticut to our house immediately.

The next morning he had a crisis of conscience. Our son, it seems, who was to start a winter break job at 7 a.m., greeted him with a joint in his hand, and this kid had to tell us about it. Our son responded by cursing us all out, heading for an upstairs bathroom, and lighting up another dooby. We called the cops (again), and had him arrested. Then, working with the parole department, Mike Dawes, and us, the judge agreed to send our son back to school, and if he got in any trouble while there, to juvenile detention for another stay. Caught smoking pot in Connecticut, he was sent back to juvenile detention for another week and returned to Hyde as a term of his probation. I don’t know how many other private schools would work with a family in this fashion, but we were then, and remain at this time, grateful for the way Hyde treated this matter.

By the way, our son (who had done a superb impersonation of Al Pacino’s Scarface character during his first stay at the Middlesex County Juvenile Detention Center) was overwhelmed the second time he found himself spending time there as an invited guest of the state. His commitment to avoid acting in ways that will land him in that kind of environment has remained unflagging since the day he walked out of “prison,” and Lauren and I are proud that we spearheaded this no nonsense response to his wholly inappropriate behavior and attitude. We will always be grateful to Hyde for the way they handled this situation.

Lauren and I had no hesitation, after the completion of his junior year, to send our son back to Hyde to complete high school. Of course, since he was about to turn 18, our son would be free to make another choice, but we made it clear that while we would support him financially through the completion of high school should he choose to return to Hyde, if he decided against the proposition he was on his own. Based on our earlier, no-nonsense pattern of conduct, our son knew that we meant business and agreed to head back to Woodstock.

Parents of seniors are asked to spend a weekend seminaring as a couple with other folks in the same situation during the summer break. By now Lauren had been asked to serve as the co-chair of our region, and I... irony of ironies... had been appointed admissions chair, which means that I was a point person for the school, responsible for explaining the program to people in our area who were considering enrolling in Hyde. That, of course, was prior to my second encounter with Joe Gauld.

When Lauren and I drove up to Woodstock, Connecticut, on July 28th, I was ready to do some serious work. By this time I had a clear understanding of how I could use the process --- flawed as it obviously is --- and especially, the people I met (if I was fortunate to come in contact with some interesting ones) to further my goal, which was to finally and forever liberate myself from the need for parental approval that I’d carried for so long. As a creative artist I know that interesting things can happen when you start out with an intellectual construct, toss in some emotional flexibility, and let the process lead where it will. I sensed that something important was coming, and that it was going to happen soon...

Lauren and I couldn’t have been luckier. The small group we were placed in was terrific; all of the people in it had worked the process for awhile and had found ways to probe and provide positive feedback. We had a great meeting on Thursday night, and although most of us were disappointed the next day when, for logistical reasons, our group was combined with another, we continued to interact well with each other.

But the steamroller had a destination I couldn’t avoid: on Friday I attended another mandatory Gauld-given seminar. Wanting to avoid confrontation, but commanded by conscience as well as the Hyde ethic of truth before harmony, I told Joe that I was at a critical point, I believed, where resolution of the most fundamental issues that had held me back was possible. “Your son is a senior,” Gauld bellowed. “You’re supposed to be way beyond that!”

Man, did that piss me off. Here I was revealing something tender, and this somewhat insightful, but extremely nutty guy --- who clearly has some major unresolved issues himself (primarily involving his step-father, who never gave him the mad love, so he repeats ad nauseum, that the half brothers he sired by Joe’s mom received) --- is laying down the hammer once again and declaring that the truth, as he sees it, is scripture. When I balked at his characterization of me, Gauld, who had clearly been anticipating the moment, told me that I was free to leave the school if I disagreed with him. I took the bait, walked out of the room, and became the second person that day to exit one of his seminars. Then I cooled down and decided to hang around for the remainder of the weekend. I’m glad I did, because, with the help of the group, and most importantly, Lauren, I got in touch with a long ago discarded part of myself, and came to understand that the young boy who yearned for his father’s love was still alive inside, hoping not to be forgotten. I wept as I read the letter “he” wrote to my father on Sunday and closed that chapter of my life.

Allowing others in is fine, but if you’re not also helping people in need, what’s the point? I was glad to receive an e-mail that contained this passage from another parent in our group the day after we returned from Woodstock: “Hey My Man..... I really enjoyed meeting you and Lauren.... If it wasn't for you I would not have made the progress I feel I made this weekend..........I really am glad you rose to the occasion........you are incredible and a special person...”

School started up again in September, and like most other couples, some with siblings in tow, Lauren and I headed up to Hyde in late October for Fall Family Weekend. For the next few days we seminared with Lauren and Carlos Battle, the parents of our son’s new roommate Blake; Lauren would figure prominently in the events that led to Joe Gauld’s meltdown the following month and the de facto dismissal that Duncan McCrann laid on us that evening. There were, however, no problems during this weekend. In fact, Anya Wornzoff, one of our son’s advisors, led our seminars, and in an e-mail exchange with me several days after our return, wrote: “I greatly appreciated your insight and leadership this weekend in a group of very new families... I often find great clarity in your words and understand them clearly and find it incredibly insightful.” Syntatically confused though they were, I was grateful to read Anya’s clauses. And until the health scare that preceded the trip, I looked forward to my second FLC with enthusiasm.

III. It was just another yearly medical exam, and I’m the picture of health, so Bernie Lehroff’s words took a few moments to sink in. “There’s a great deal of blood in your urine, so I’m going to order a CAT scan of your kidneys, and then get you into the hospital to check out your bladder for cancer, which I don’t expect we’ll find.” Damn, Dr. Lehroff has been my urologist for the last five years or so, and he’d never said anything like this before!

The CAT scan would reveal a secondary lesion that’s probably nothing; I won’t know for certain until we see the results of the follow up scan I’ll take in another six months or so. If the lesion hasn’t grown, I’ll be fine. Fortunately, the bladder exam, which involved anesthesia, and the catheterization of my johnson, was negative, though extremely painful.

As for pain, I’m good with that. When I broke my ankle in six places playing softball in Central Park for a Broadway show league team at the age of 30, causing damage which required nine screws and two five inch plates to secure, the cop who arrived on the scene gave the wrong address to the ambulance dispatcher, and I had to wait almost two hours for one to arrive and hustle me off to Lennox Hill Hospital on 77th St. When the pain became unbearable --- Dr. Schwartz, the surgeon who worked on me, said that this kind of bone related agony is among the most excruciating we get to experience --- I thought, in my semi-delirious state, about the suffering people of India and how I was finally able to relate to them, and it abated to a manageable level.

But at the age of 53 this bladder exam, conducted the day before I drove up to Hyde for my FLC, was painful, and emotionally exhausting. When I arrived in Woodstock on Thursday, November 3rd, at about 3 p.m., a number of people asked me why I looked so pale and drawn. I brushed off several inquiries, and answered others honestly.

When I realized that I’d been assigned to a group led by Judy Fortier I had to smile. Judy spent the bulk of her career as a nurse attending to kids with life threatening diseases and their families --- in my book one of the noblest causes known to man --- before switching careers and climbing aboard the Hyde train in the late 90’s after her son passed through the program. Her husband was also brought on board as an English teacher but left, according to various accounts, because of a pronounced proclivity to ogle undergrads.

Our previous regional retreat (a weekend getaway where Hyde parents bivouac at a hotel and focus entirely on their issues) had featured Judy as the star attendee. As it turned out, this retreat was held the weekend of our son’s return engagement at the Middlesex Detention Center. That Saturday we were to visit him in the joint, and I was on pins and needles. Would he evince some significant change (yes, thank God!), or remain the hustler --- Superfly, 200X --- that we feared he may have metastasized into?

I called Mike Dawes prior to the weekend and told him that I didn’t think I would be able to concentrate on, or complete, the assignments we had been given, but would like to go to the meetings anyway, if only to lend support to others. What did he think I should do? After saying that our attendence was absolutely not required under the circumstances, Mike told me that if I felt up to it I should go and participate to whatever level I felt comfortable with. “If anyone has any problems,” he said, “tell them to get in touch with me.”

As it turned out, Judy did have problems with that approach. After seeing our son on Saturday I decided not to return for the rest of day’s activities, but showed up at 8 a.m. on Sunday. After the group went through the “clearing the decks” exercise, where anyone who has something on his mind that will keep him from being fully engaged in the coming meeting has the opportunity to express it, the large group divided into the customary smaller units. At this time I was told that I was to be the subject of a “concern meeting.”

Sitting across from me in a hallway along with Nan, a Hyde alumni parent from New Jersey, and Sandy, an annoying, but fundamentally ok guy who would, at our final regional meeting, announce that I had made the most significant impact on his growth that year, Judy aimed her substantial girth in my direction and asked if I knew why I had been chosen as the subject of a concern meeting. When I said no, she responded “that concerns me even more.” Judy went on to point out that my resistance to Hyde was holding me back. “You have to surrender completely to the process,” she said. Now look, back in the day, I did go to an EST meeting that was held in a midtown Manhattan ballroom. Sensing (correctly) that my chances of getting laid were pretty good if I stood up publicly and confessed a personal weakness, I was happy to do so. But Judy had nothing to offer me in this regard, and that train sailed long ago anyway, so why prevaricate? I told Ms. Fortier that I appreciated her interest, but submission wasn’t in the cards, and we concluded our chat.

In the intervening months Judy and I had seen each other at Hyde but never spoken or even acknowledged one another. Knowing that the staff was aware of our history I was bemused by their decision to place me in the group she was to lead, but accepted it as a challenge. Considering the other stuff that was on my mind, our history wasn’t much of a factor when we began our Thursday night seminar.

IV. The opening exercise, new to me, was simple: each person was to stand up for five minutes and give the group an autobiographical sketch. Everyone was free to handle the assignment in their own way, but each group member had to remain on his feet for the entire five minutes. A number of people struggled to fill the time, and Judy did her best to try and help by asking questions when someone ran out of things to say.

Feeling weak and tired, I too had difficulty speaking for the full five, but instead of asking me questions, Judy simply said “two minutes to go” when I stopped talking. I thought for a moment, and then decided to lay it all on the line. I told the group about the procedure of the previous day, how frightened and weak I was feeling, and that nonetheless I was hoping to participate fully in the all of the meetings. Judy’s response? “One minute.” That was it. No concern, and no helpful questions, which under the circumstances would, of course, have been easy to script.

Later, other members of the group would tell me that they were surprised and put off by Judy’s brusque response. As for me, I just looked at her and said, “If this was a congressional hearing, I would simply yield to the chair the balance of my time. But I know you’re not going to let me do that, so I guess I’ll just have to stay on my feet until time expires.” After about 45 uncomfortable seconds, Judy glanced at her watch, said “time,” and I sat down.

Every Hyde seminar begins with the recitation of the school’s guidelines. A series of statements intended to remind people of how participants are supposed to approach the process, the guidelines are passed around the room and read off one at a time. Hyde staff, including Joe Gauld, routinely disregard these guidelines, especially the one that says you’re not allowed to intellectualize or give advice to others. Earlier I mentioned how the “clearing the decks” moment works. If Joe Gauld had modeled this principle on November 3rd, he would never have fallen into the hole he ultimately dug for himself.

But the HAPA (Hyde Alumni Parent Association) parent who was assisting Judy certainly was ready to clear the decks on Friday morning. What was her name... could it actually have been Lazarus, or am I conflating my impression of her with the memory of a Biblical figure? I’m not sure. What I can say for certain is that this girl is one tough cookie. In fact, next to her, John “The Beast” Mugabi, who was ultimately dropped in the 11th round of their middleweight championship fight by Marvelous Marven Hagler in one of the most vicious boxing matches of the 1980’s, seems more like the character Sally Field played on The Flying Nun.

HAPA parents are a mixed lot. Generally, they are people whose kids have completed the program, feel positive about the school, and are willing to come back as unpaid volunteers to help run seminars. Some of them are sensitive listeners who do good work. Others, it seems, are looking to fulfill a variety of unmet needs, and these folks can do some serious damage. This woman told a rather bizarre story on Thursday night. She had, she said, come to Hyde with her husband and daughter. Shortly thereafter her old man bagged the program and their marriage. Months later her daughter quit the school as well. She, however, hung around, and eventually “graduated” from Hyde.

Like Sammy “The Bull” Gravano, it seemed clear that “Lazarus” was there to snap the whip and enforce the rules. Looking straight at me, she said that she had some clearing of the decks to do. I had, she intoned, greatly disturbed her the night before by negatively influencing one of the students who --- thanks to my example --- had also failed to complete his full, five minute autobiographical discourse. (Later, “Lazarus” would be remonstrated by another adult when she scolded a woman in our group who, recovering from major surgery, was unable to fully engage in a physical exercise. As I said, a no nonsense broad. Had she been asked to help quiet a dissenting voice?) The tension thickened when I cleared the decks myself by saying that, based on our earlier, unresolved incident, I would not be able to take feedback from Judy. My son and I were asked to leave the seminar, and find someone to talk to. We ended up in Mike Dawes’ office.

“I love your father!,” Mike bellowed to my son. “Lots of people here don’t like him, but I love him. Do you want to know why?” Mike has a way of smiling through most every sentence he utters. When he decides to turn up the heat and turn down the corners of his mouth, the shift of demeanor is doubly effective. My son, of course, couldn’t have cared less why Mike felt good about me, but humored him nonetheless. “Sure.” “Your father’s smart, he’s honest, he’s willing to change, and I admire him.” But then Mike said something extremely revealing. He knew that I had for some time taken the position that it’s hypocritical for staff to demand that kids live by principles they claim everyone at Hyde is asked to abide by when the reality is that a dual standard exists. “Your father’s right!” said Mike. “There is a double standard! But what do you think would happen if we let everyone here at Hyde speak the truth as he’s just done?” Having been given the equivalent of a bounce pass in the open court, my son slam dunked the answer. “There would be chaos.” “RIGHT!” said Mike. “But,” my son responded, “all the kids see that, and that’s why no one takes the school seriously.” Mike then gave me a challenge. Judy, he said, was someone he had difficult relating to; she just didn’t show much interest in looking at her own issues. But maybe I could help her. Seek her out, talk to her. Could I do that? I looked at my kid and said “I’ve used a quick wit to cover up the fact that I’m often uncomfortable around people; I have trouble trusting them. I’m going to do exactly what Mr. Dawes has just suggested.” We thanked Mike for his time and left his office.

V. I didn’t see it coming, not at all. As I entered the large conference room that sits down the hall from the entrance to the main building after passing Susie, the receptionist whose golden smile and warm bearing are the glue that keeps the Woodstock campus together, I was completely at peace. Perhaps it was the understanding that our time here is fleeting, or a sense of gratitude that sprung from the knowledge that I really had resolved some fundamental issues, or a combination of the two. For whatever reason, I walked into that meeting with a purpose: to pay respect to Joe Gauld, and honor the contributions I believed he has made --- regardless of the flack surrounding them --- to the lives of many families.

Over the course of the next few hours I would comport myself well. “Like a prince,” was how Lucille Leggett, a staff member, would describe my behavior to several people, including Mike Dawes, and ultimately, to me in a three way conversation I had with her and Mike on November 9th. Other people would say, and write, similar things over the course of the next several weeks. I noticed, however, that despite my deferential and supportive comments, Joe, who was sitting directly to my right, never looked at me or acknowledged my presence.

With just a few minutes remaining in the meeting, Joe exploded at Lauren Battle, who, he said, didn’t have the courage to examine her issues honestly. Proclaiming that her family was in deep trouble and that he doubted if the school would even be able to help them, Joe kept pounding on her, and as he did, his face got redder and redder. But Lauren wouldn’t budge. Flushed as well, Lauren kept her composure --- and her smile --- while refusing to concede the correctness of Joe’s thesis. “I am willing to look at myself honestly,” she kept saying. Lauren sniffled into her tissue a few times, but her gaze was steady and no tears fell.

Seeing that he was having troubling breaking her, Joe scanned the room and asked if anyone had an opinion of Lauren that differed from his. When he’s on the ropes, Joe looks to the crowd for help, betting that he’s cowed them to the point where no one will contradict any statement he makes. However, since I knew Lauren better than anyone in the room I felt obliged to speak up. I told Joe that during the Fall weekend I had seminared for three days with Lauren. Like him, I had initially wondered if her smile masked an unwillingness to look deeply at her own issues. But over the course of the many hours we spent together, I said, I came to feel that this was not the case; Lauren was capable of genuine introspection, seemed willing to confront her shortcomings, and struck me as a person committed to changing her pattern of behavior.

“That’s exactly the wrong answer!!!!!” bellowed Gauld. “You’ve ruined this seminar for the last three hours!!!” Then, looking at a staff member sitting behind me, shouted “I told you I didn’t want him in this room. He never apologized to me!!!!!!”

Ok, let’s count them... one, two, three... all 17 of the parents in that room, were, I’m quite certain, in shock at this point. Many of them contacted me later, and I have evidentiary material in my possession that fully supports this statement: Joe Gauld collapsed into an unprovoked and unjustifiable rage that no one saw coming, or could explain. When he paused to catch his breath, I broke the stunned silence and said to Joe, “You’re angry, aren’t you?” “Angry?”, he said, and then glanced around the room for support that he could see was absent. When another member of the group looked Joe in the eye and said that he had direct experience with male to male anger and wasn’t pleased with what was going on, Joe looked down at his shoes. After several moments, he raised his head and said, “I’ll think about what’s happened overnight, and if I feel I owe this group an apology, I’ll give one tomorrow.” Translation: I know I just fucked up, but I’m not prepared to acknowledge it yet. Then, having recovered his regal bearing, Joe turned to me and said, “But you have to leave. Now.”

Wait a minute. If you’ve got something on your mind that’s going to prevent you from participating fully with another person in the group, as Joe clearly had, aren’t you supposed to “clear the decks” right from the jump? In the coming weeks I would speak to several people who were at the Senior weekend meeting where Joe suggested that I leave the room. They would all say that I was courteous to him from start to finish, and disagreed with Gauld’s analysis of me respectfully. Prior to this gathering no one on the staff indicated to me that Joe was carrying a grudge, so how was I to know? However, I realized that nothing positive could come out of a defensive reaction and so I just looked into Joe’s eyes and said, “I will leave, but before I go I have something to say. Over the course of the last three hours you’ve said a number of wise things. I’ve profited from them, and would like to say thank you.” “I won’t accept that from you,” said Joe, who by now seemed both confused and defiant. “Well,” I replied, “that’s your problem,” and left the room.

VI. Walking out of that meeting I had a deep sense of calm. All my life, I thought, I've fantasized about using my verbal skills to publicly pummel an abusive authority figure. A guy with a vicious streak a mile wide has just attacked me, and he ended up on the mat, but what irony! Not only had I hoped it wouldn’t happen, I’d done everything in my power to keep him from sliding down the mountain. Later, I would share this moment with another parent, and ultimately Duncan McCrann, who would distort my words beyond recognition.

Determined to put the experience behind me and focus on the positive, I headed off to the cafeteria to have a bite to eat. I was hoping to run into Bob Sands, and was glad to see him as I entered the room. Two of Bob’s kids, I believe, went to Hyde, and he recently joined the staff as Director of Development and Alumni Relations. In short, Bob shakes down families for donations. We had chatted for a few minutes at lunch that day, and Bob saw that I was interested in helping the school, so we decided to speak again. We were joined at the dinner table by a woman whose name I can’t recall. I do know that she was also an admissions chair, and a businesswoman with a lot of energy and some terrific ideas. Although he didn’t swear us to confidentiality Bob did say that, since we were obviously committed to helping Hyde, he would share some insider information with us. In sum: the school was in trouble.

That came as no surprise to me. When I drove up to the campus on Thursday I discovered that about 75 kids (more than half the student population) had been placed on 2/4, the work detail punishment the school hands out for a variety of offenses. Hardly unprecedented, as Bob pointed out, but symptomatic of a deeper malaise. Never known for its efficiency, the school’s administration, he continued, was floundering badly; communications with parents were being handled less efficiently than he’d ever seen, and a host of other internal problems were exacerbating an already difficult situation. An overwhelmed faculty, for one, had been stretched to the limit. Add to this an enrollment that had decreased substantially from the previous year, and the picture was clear: Hyde was in a jam. The three of us discussed the possible creation of a parent advisory panel that could lift some of the burden from the staff, take an independent look at these problems, and offer solutions to them. Bob thanked us for our interest and we parted ways.

The next activity, a “trust walk” was scheduled to take place right after the dinner hour. It’s a time when parent and child go for a walk and say what’s on their mind. My son had already heard about the episode with JG from his roommate Blake, who had flirted with the idea of k.o.’ing Joe when he saw how distraught his mom had become after receiving a whipping from him. Like most kids, our son had no interest in staying a moment longer at Hyde than was required. Sensing an opening, my son told me that he’d finish his senior year if we said that he must but asked if, in the light of this obvious transgression by the school, I’d consider removing him from Hyde. By this time it was clear that not only had Joe acted inappropriately, but that none of the staff who were present at this meeting, including Judy Fortier, were going to address the matter. Still, I told my son that I hoped the best elements of Hyde would rise and that this experience would ultimately be constructive. He accepted this reasoning and we headed off for the night’s final activity, a singing session.

Confronting fear is an important part of the Hyde philosophy. Most people are afraid to sing, so they ask you to prepare a song and share it with your group. Seniors like our son are required to perform a duet with their parent, but in the confusion of the day we hadn’t prepared one, and so were told we could work a number up and present it on Sunday. Even though we weren’t performing ourselves, my son and I stuck around for the next hour and a half or so to support the others. As this meeting was breaking up and we were getting on our coats, Judy Fortier asked me to stay behind. When the others left she told me that Duncan wanted to meet with me in order to “help me.” Boy, did that annoy me, and I told Judy, and Terry Walsh, who had also sat through the earlier meeting without saying a word, exactly how I felt. “I’ll work on myself until I’m 150,” I told them. “But until Hyde is willing to model its own principles none of you has anything to offer me.”

Terry Walsh is a tough character. Last year, when our son needed a stern hand, he did a good job of challenging him. Self-examination, however, is not his strong suit, and he saw no value in the points I was raising about Hyde. Terry demanded that I explain myself. “Every one of you failed in three fundamental ways,” I said. “First of all, you didn’t practice Brother’s Keeper. You let Joe Gauld make an absolute fool of himself.” In fact, if Joe had spit pablum on his bib he couldn’t possibly have embarrassed himself more fully. “Secondly, you allowed your fear of him to compromise the school.” One parent who had pledged a significant amount of cash to Hyde had seriously considered trashing the donation, I pointed out, and I was certain that all of the other parents who witnessed Gauld’s breakdown were having second thoughts about whether Hyde was the right place for their families. “Finally, none of you thanked me for not responding to Joe’s abuse in kind, or has even had the decency to ask how I’m feeling.” This, I saw, was having no impact, so I folded up a bit inside and agreed to meet with Duncan.

As a journalist with over 1,000 published articles, I’m proud to say that I’ve never been questioned on material facts. Not once. Truman Capote had better recall, I’m sure, but I’m strong in that area as well. When conducting telephone interviews I take shorthand notes, vibe on a person’s manner of speaking, and then recreate the conversation before sending it off to print. I never use a tape recorder. Over the years, I’ve learned that when I need to turn on total recall, at least for a paragraph or two, I can. Walking over to Duncan’s office I thought about what I’d say. Dunc’s just a few years older than me, he went to Harvard, and so, I figured, he must have been following Watergate when those events were unfolding. He has to know the famous comment, captured on tape, that John Dean issued when, in his capacity as Counsel to the President, he informed Nixon of his legal vulnerability. So, I thought, I’ll paraphrase it.

“What’s going on?” asked a grim faced Mr. McCrann. “Mr. Headmaster,” I said, “there’s a cancer on the presidency, and a strain of ethical hypocrisy at the Hyde School that must be addressed.” I went on to say that Joe really wasn’t the issue. If, however, the school wasn’t willing to address improper behaviors by him --- and other staff members --- then the principles they ask the kids to live by are mere platitudes. Students, I continued, are smart enough to sense the divide between what you say and how you behave, and it’s a contributing factor to the malaise that the institution is suffering from. I also mentioned the ironic moment I experienced when Joe dismissed me from the meeting. I had hoped that these comments might lead to a frank conversation between us, but Duncan would have none of it. “I hear you,” he said. “And since you feel that way, you have to leave right now.” Wait a minute, what about the principle that goes “If the shoe fits, wear it. If not, throw it away.” Wasn’t I allowed to say whatever I felt in my heart, and wasn’t the school required to consider my statement before discarding it? Duncan went even further. “I strongly urge you to withdraw your son immediately.”

I couldn’t believe it. Here it was, 10 o’clock on a Friday night, and the Head of School is, in effect, kicking my son out of Hyde for no reason. I told McCrann that I couldn’t agree to his suggesion without speaking to my wife, and he said that he understood. I rounded up my kid, went into another administrator’s office, and called Lauren. Although she was shocked, my wife saw the situation clearly, and understood that, given McCrann’s feelings, it would be pointless to insist that our son be allowed to remain on campus. Before we could come to a final agreement to pack up our son’s things and leave, however, Duncan stuck his head in the door and said, “Are you guys about done?” That was it; he wanted us to leave, and so we did.

Back in New Jersey the next day, Lauren and I fielded a number of telephone calls, including one from Lauren Battle. Her account of a meeting held that morning would be corroborated by three other participants. Fully expecting to see Joe Gauld when the group was asked to reconvene, they were instead met by Duncan McCrann. When one parent asked why Mr. Gauld was not addressing --- and apologizing directly to --- them (and, by extension, me) for his bad behavior, Duncan said that Joe had been called to assist at an FLC on the Maine campus and had left without leaving any message for the group. Translation: Joe slipped out of town under the cover of darkness.

Another parent said that if any Hyde employee other than Joe behaved as intolerably as he had, that person would most likely be fighting to keep his job. McCrann smiled wanly and responded by saying that Gauld had acted even more poorly in the past, and recounted a story intended to bolster the point. Needless to say, this justification did not sit well with the assembled gathering. Duncan then committed the ethical transgression of publicly disclosing the contents of a private conversation that I, the parent of a student, had had with him in his capacity as Head of School, without first gaining my permission to do so. He went on to compound the offense by distorting my remarks beyond recognition. I had, he said, told him that I always wanted to bring down a powerful person, and had finally achieved my goal the previous day.

VII. Coda The following Monday I called the school, expecting that we’d be able to wrap things up quickly. We had prepaid the entire year and assumed that Hyde would issue us a refund for the balance. School officials demurred, and Duncan pointed out, in a letter that came the next week, that the contract we signed gives the school carte blanche to hang onto any and all of the cash we forked over to them, and that they were going to exercise that right. Hyde would acknowledge no wrongdoing on the part of Joe Gauld or any member of the staff. Sensing, I’m sure, that he had made a mistake by pressuring us to leave the school without cause and knowing that we wouldn’t be returning anyway, given the school’s unwillingness to acknowledge its own ethical transgressions, Duncan wrote that Hyde would allow our son to re-interview with his mother as participating parent. I, of course, remain a persona non grata for reasons that have never been spelled out.

At the end of the day it’s obvious that Mike Dawes, who had in earlier times been an extremely successful salesman of financial instruments, misrepresented his product when he told me during our initial interview that the Hyde School welcomes open minded discourse and lively exchanges with the adults who participate in its programs; all available data suggests that the opposite is true. Hyde staff members often say that without full parental participation the chances of a successful outcome for a student drop dramatically and yet they dismissed me from the program... why? Because I modeled Hyde and held them to their own standards? “Kids watch what we do, not what we say,” is a favorite slogan. Does anyone at the school believe that the gross misconduct that Joe Gauld exhibited on November 4th, 200X isn’t replicated on a regular basis, or that the students fail to see that Mr. Gauld --- and those influenced by his ‘the rules don’t apply to me’ standard of conduct --- have built a system laced with duplicity? Hyde’s strength is explicitly laid out in one of the school’s core principles: having the courage to work on your own character and demand the best from others is a virtue that outweighs any external manifestation of success. Many dedicated and caring faculty members routinely challenge the kids to understand that while it’s ok to fail, glossing over bad behavior --- your own or anyone else’s --- is unacceptable. And yet, there are also examples, far too many of them, that expose a hypocritical willingness to cover up improper conduct on the part of the staff. This, the Jekyll side of Hyde, stems from a cultish devotion to the school’s founder, and the administration’s inability to hold Joe Gauld --- and themselves --- to the standards they demand from students and their families.

Source: Fornits. Names may have been changed.