Part One Time bomb in the classroom Problem teen-ager hides in the cracks Lingering problems: After Moses Lake, violence leaves mark In Olympia, lawmakers toe line between violence, rights Numbers don't always add up Part Two Eye on violence: Schools beef up security, find new ways to curb problems Prevention starts in college classroom Blessed are the peacemakers Poll shows public wants solutions Programs show students how to recognize, avoid potential problem areas Part Three A child's death, A mother's pain Alice Fritz describes heartbreak of losing her son to violence Getting connected: Students who get involved early have better chance of doing well Guidelines for getting involved Laws give students protection from action Many give warnings before violence Seeing the signs Credits Resources Problem teen-ager hides in the cracks By Marny Lombard The Spokesman-Review Seventeen years after her youngest child was born, a Spokane Valley mother still wonders whose boy he really is. "What planet did he come from?" she said. That's how different her son is from the rest of his family. His strength of will was obvious from the beginning. At 2, he told his mom, "No kisses, Mommy. Only hugs." For the next six months, that's all she got from her little boy. In elementary school, his teachers admired his humor and intelligence. They also worried about his behavior. Every fall, his mother got a call requesting a special conference to talk about his headstrong ways, she said. The names of this family were omitted to protect their privacy. At 11, her son started smoking pot. At 13, he stopped playing sports, dyed his hair, changed his friends. He used more drugs, experimenting and eventually smoking pot three times a day, his mother said. It was a contrast to the rest of the family. The three other children were good students, involved with their Central Valley schools and community. High school was more of the same. "His junior year was a total disaster. Truancy was a biggie. He went to truancy court, drug court and traffic court." He went to drug counseling - and kept on using. Last fall, he started his senior year at Central Valley High School. He came home crying one day, his mother recalled, because he had no friends. In October, after all the drug use, truancy and isolation had simmered for a good seven years, he hit the wall. One Tuesday morning, he was summoned to the assistant principal's office. He was to be suspended for swearing at a teacher. The teen-ager exploded. He threatened to get a gun, come back to his school and shoot the assistant principal. The school called his parents. He was expelled. His parents came at once. They took their son to his psychiatrist, who wanted to check him into a secure psychiatric facility. Hearing that, the boy fled, leaving his psychiatrist alarmed enough that she called the school. Officials called a lock-down and ran classes under tight security. "Has he been under a rock for the last few years?" the mother asked, trying to fathom how her son could make such a threat. She praised the schools' efforts to help her son. "I think I talked to the counselors more than he did." This teen-ager didn't fall through the cracks; he looked for the cracks to hide in. The lock-down in October reverberated around Spokane County. Local media covered the incident extensively. "It can't happen here" became "A close call, way too close." Now, no high school in the area wants him, while juvenile court says he should be in school eight hours a day, his mother said in December. "The superintendent of West Valley (school district) wouldn't even talk to me," his mother said. "So who is in contempt of court - us or the school? I don't know." Back to Learning the Hard Way

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