"No," Miss Pomeroy said at once. Then she added: "Perhaps it would be best if he stayed after all." She riffled her papers. "Timmy's latest Auden-Gronet test shows his personality has dropped at least five points from positive during the first half of the school year."
Mrs. Briggs looked at her nine-year-old son. He was down to the core of his apple now, a nice looking boy, she thought, with bright blue eyes, hair that insisted on drooping too far down on his forehead—she'd have to start training it in earnest soon—and a fair supply of freckles. He carried himself well. Had a pleasant speaking voice, she thought, and a good vocabulary. She had noticed no—slipping?
"Timmy's not too far behind factually, Mrs. Briggs," Miss Pomeroy said, referring to her records. "In fact, we'll admit he's ahead in stability and adjustment. But he's getting more negative in aggressiveness and personality development. He just doesn't seem to care. That factor may account for his stability—he doesn't have any reason to be unstable, you see? And he adjusts easily because he doesn't care enough not to. There is a reason, of course."
Mrs. Briggs was annoyed. The schools had gone too far. "And what, may I ask, is the reason?"
"Too much time in the Elroom, Mrs. Briggs."
Mrs. Briggs managed a good-natured laugh. "Miss Pomeroy, you have Timmy all wrong. He doesn't spend any more time in the Elroom than other children do."
"Children are all different," Miss Pomeroy countered.
"But not Timmy."
"Parents are often poor judges of their own children, Mrs. Briggs."
"Are you trying to tell me I don't know my own child?"