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The
story of Jeffrey Buffalo was not the story I was looking for at
the time. Nor did it wind up taking the form I had originally intended.
There had been plenty of talk in story meetings about parents being
told their children could only attend school if they were on Ritalin,
or anti-depressants -– some form of pharmaceutical behavioural
modifier. No drugs meant no school. Clearly this was a story that
raised a lot of questions. Were teachers exceeding their jurisdiction?
Was this another example of drugs being quicker and easier, for
both parents and teachers, than taking the time to work with a difficult
kid?
There were leads on the original story. But, as often happens, they
either were not credible journalistically or could not carry a story
on the radio. There was also the ongoing issue of how willing they
were to potentially expose their child and their family to public
scrutiny.
Then a child welfare worker quietly called me back.
“There is this file that’s come to my attention”
said the worker, “ I know it’s not what we were talking
about but ….”.
The worker outlined the story with no names.
A little boy in Northern Ontario had been caught up in a series
of school suspensions. It had started in grade one. The little boy
had thrown a girl’s shoe over the fence; he got into fights
in the playground. There was no question of weapons or serious injury,
but he kept being suspended.
His grandparents, who were bringing him up, were concerned. They
worked with the school. They took him to a string of doctors and
psychologists. All of the medics concluded there was not a lot wrong
with the little boy, but he did have a learning disability. Nothing
was being done about the learning disability and, not surprisingly,
the little boy’s behaviour was getting worse.
The school seemed convinced that this little boy needed medically
“fixing”; that he needed to be detained in a secure
facility.
By this time the little boy was in grade four -- for the second
time! He had been suspended for months on end and the edict from
the school board was that he could not come back to school until
a psychiatrist guaranteed that he would not misbehave.
The grandfather was at his wits end.
The worker called the grandfather. He agreed that the worker could
give me his phone number. We were off and running.
Not only was Mervyn Buffalo, Jeffrey’s grandfather, willing
to talk about what had happened to his grandson, but he had also
kept every piece of paper from the school, the doctors, from anyone
associated with Jeffrey. He gave me phone numbers of doctors and
workers who had seen Jeffrey and was completely open. He understood
that his story had to be verified.
The school board was another matter. Phone calls to the school district
office went unanswered. It looked like this would simply be a rather
sad feature story.
I tacked a two-day visit to Timmins on the end of another trip to
save money.
I drove through the inevitable snowstorm in Northern Ontario to
the little community where the Buffalos live. The interviews with
Mervyn Buffalo and a local psychologist went as planned. We poured
over a big box of documents, Jeffrey and his sister both talked
to me. And there was a bonus. Merv said he would be busy the next
day because he was trying to set up a parents’ support group.
I went with Merv to the meeting and taped the whole thing. It validated
Merv’s story.
In the meantime, in a continuing effort to get some sort of comment
from the school district, I went round to the school board office,
sat in the waiting room and taped the sound of the clock ticking
and doors opening. The school district official in charge was simply
too busy to see me, but if I would submit a list of questions the
official would be pleased to send me a written response. That doesn’t
make good radio.
I went to see a couple of local politicians and a local journalist
who I was told might be helpful in finding out more about the families
involved as well as a little local school board politics. One directed
me to two school board trustees, who agreed to see me. I met them
with my tape recorder running and microphone clearly visible. The
senior trustee said she did not want her “damaged voice”
on the radio. That request had to be honoured. But what she had
to say went to the essence of the story.
I wound up broadcasting the words of the senior trustee spoken by
an actress. Those words were intercut with the voice of the other
trustee. I then continued the “room sound” from the
location where the interview took place under the actress. The trustee’s
request was honoured, at the same, what she had to say was heard.
As she spoke, her attitude to the Buffalo family became clear. Both
trustees had a lot they wanted to get off their respective chests.
They also indicated that the board was in the middle of a lawsuit
concerning another special needs child. It was then possible to
find out more about that lawsuit and include that in the story.
The various legislative sections and regulations were easily checked
online and a final check was done with one of the regulatory agencies
involved in cases of this nature and with the lawyer handling the
lawsuit with the district.
This was one of those stories that did not involve endless Freedom
of Information requests or protection of key figures identities.
This was a simple story. The information was all there it was simply
a matter of sorting it all out. |
