THE COUNSELING SESSIONS
ALM No.93, September 2026
SHORT STORIES
It was a warm Indian summer day, when the heat of the summer bleeds into the fall, before the cold and the rain and the snow of winter show their faces. The sun poured in through the large windows on the left, hitting the desks along that row, making it uncomfortable for the students who had chosen to sit there.
One of whom was Hal, who liked staring out the window at the parking lot in the near distance, and across that to the playing field where there were sometimes gym classes engaged in whatever sport fit the season. At the moment there was a girls’ soccer game underway, a serious distraction for Hal. He could hear the teacher’s voice droning on, a voice he had come to disdain.
Not because it was a particularly unpleasant voice. Nor was it a subject he disliked. In fact, it was one of his favorite subjects: physics. Rather, it was because the topics being covered were, in his view, pedestrian: dull, boring, elementary. This was, after all, a class comprised primarily of high school seniors, and the better students in the senior class at that. Did they really need to be going over Newton’s laws of motion? He remembered covering them in eighth grade.
Rather, he wished to be dealing in the knowledge that had been gained since Newton had left the scene, a long time ago. The laws of physics as revealed by Albert Einstein, and others since his mind-boggling revelations in the theory of relativity. Sure, Newton had described how objects moved in the limited range of space and time that humans experienced day-to-day. But there were other more interesting laws that defined these matters when one advanced beyond the confines of the here and now. There was so much more out there that Newton never knew, never could know.
The girl playing soccer he found most compelling was dribbling the ball around a defender, her long dark hair streaming out behind her, her tanned legs maneuvering the ball expertly as she dribbled one way and the other, her little skirt covering that cute behind bouncing around, revealing brief glimpses of the shorts beneath. She was about to take a shot on goal when a voice intruded.
“What would be your view of that law, Mr. Robinson?”
Hal turned his head back to the front of the room. He blinked. He had no idea what law was being referred to.
Which didn’t stop him for a moment. “It needs updating.”
“I beg your pardon.”
Hal frowned. “That wasn’t clear? It needs updating.”
“Newton’s first law of motion needs updating? Would you care to elucidate us?” The teacher waved his arm in a gesture indicating the rest of the class and smiled contemptuously.
Hal was relieved that the teacher had indicated which of the three laws was in question. He noticed that the entire class staring at him.
“Well, let’s take this class. Newton’s first law of motion states that an object will not change its motion unless a force acts on it. Which would seem to imply that if a force does act on it, it will change its motion. It could be argued that the reason we’re discussing Newton’s laws of motion is because there has been no force for over three hundred years, the length of time since Newton came up with his brainstorm, to cause this particular instructor to update the topic of his lectures. But in fact there has been such a force: Einstein’s theory of relativity, which is now over one hundred years old itself. So it strikes me that a force that revolutionized the entire realm of physics over a hundred years ago but has failed to change this instructor’s behavior is a violation of Newton’s first law. Thus it needs to be updated.”
The teacher’s face had turned red. The veins in his neck stood out. He stared at Hal in obvious rage. “Well here’s something that may cause you to change your motion! Go to the principal’s office. Now!”
Hal shrugged, stood, glanced again out the window, noticed the object of his fantasies had raised her arms in a sign she had scored, slung his backpack over one shoulder, and made his way to the door, never glancing at anyone, in spite of the fact every eye in the room followed him as he left.
***
Hal was directed to a chair in the hall outside the principal’s office where every passing teacher and student could see him. Most just ignored him, but a few other students taunted him as they passed. “Hey, look. The genius can’t learn how to avoid being sent to the principal’s office. Again! He’s apparently not all that bright after all.”
Hal ignored them, lost in his own thoughts. He waited for half an hour before he was ushered into the office. Where the principal, a bald man in his sixties who looked tired and seriously unhappy at seeing him, sighed and nodded for him to sit down in the chair across from his desk.
“You again.”
Hal smiled shyly. “Hi.”
“What is it this time?”
“Mr. Temple didn’t seem to like my reference to Einstein’s theory of relativity.”
“What did you say?” the principal sighed, a clear note of fatigue in his voice.
“I just tried to update a point of physics.”
“Which was?”
“The difference between Newton’s explanation of motion, which applies only to objects in the limited realm in which we observe them here on earth, and Einstein’s explanation, which allows for the far wider realm in which they occur in the universe at large.”
“Uh huh.” The principal stared at him. “Why do you do it, Hal?”
“Sir?”
“Why do you insist on correcting your teachers?”
“I only do it when they’re wrong, sir.”
“You know by now it’s only going to get you into trouble.”
“Would you prefer I let incorrect information be conveyed to your students?”
The old man sighed. “Is it that you wish to be the teacher? Do you want me to start a new class for you to lead?”
Hal frowned, leaning back. “Absolutely not. That’s the last thing I would aspire to.”
“Do you just generally dislike teachers?”
“No, sir. I just generally like what they say to be correct.”
“Is it always that black and white? You couldn’t allow a little gray to pass occasionally?”
Hal scowled. “Is that what you’d like me to tell my father. That the principal wants me to let gray pass, when it’s clear there’s a white or black alternative.”
The principal sighed again. “Look. I have a school to run here. I’ve hired the best teachers that are available at the salaries we can offer. They may not be MacArthur Genius Award winners, but they’re dedicated and doing their best. Why do you have to make their lives miserable?”
Hal looked down, spoke in a quiet voice. “Sorry.”
“I can’t just let you keep doing this. It’s disrupting class after class. First you pointed out the error in Mr. Whiting’s pre-calc explanation of parametric curves.”
“Well, he was wrong.”
“How?”
“Parametric statistical procedures rely on assumptions about the shape of the distribution in the underlying population. He was assuming a standard distribution. That isn’t always the case.”
“Uh huh.”
“They’re also dependent on the parameters, such as the means and standard deviations of the assumed distribution. He didn’t explain that.”
“I see. Well, then you contradicted Mrs. Wallace’s interpretation of Moby Dick.
“Well…she was wrong too.”
“What’s wrong with suggesting Moby Dick is an angry whale?”
“Because the problem isn’t Moby Dick, it’s Captain Ahab. He’s an obsessed madman. And he’s exploiting the whale for his own sick needs.”
“But Moby Dick tried to destroy Ahab’s ship.”
“In an era when whaling practically wiped out the entire class of sperm whales. Sure, Moby Dick had a reputation for attacking whaling ships in the South Pacific. But he was just fighting back from the widespread onslaught of sperm whales. He was trying to protect his family.”
The principal stared at him. “Moby Dick had a family?”
“That’s a term applied to sperm whales generally, because they’re so different from other toothed whales.”
The principal shook his head in a gesture of despair. “Look. I can’t let this go on. It’s clear you’re not going to stop. It seems I can’t get that need through your head. So I’m going to send you to Mr. Conrad.”
“The counselor?”
The principal nodded, picking up his telephone.
“I don’t need counseling.”
“Apparently you do.”
There was a moment of silence as the phone on the other end rang. Then it was picked up. “Hello.”
“Hi. Lucretious?”
“Oh, hi, prof.”
“I’m sending a student down to you. Can you see if you can straighten him out?”
“What’s the problem?” He sounded in a good mood.
“He’s being disruptive in class.”
“Ah. Okay. Do I know him?”
“Hal Robinson?”
There was a moment of silence. “You’re kidding.”
The principal sighed. “Just see what you can do.”
There was another moment of silence, followed by a sigh. “Okaay.” In a decidedly unenthusiastic tone.
***
Hal knocked on the door that read “School Counselor”. In a moment it opened and Mr. Temple stared out at him. “Hello, Hal.” He spoke in a way that suggested he was trying to sound open and professional, but it didn’t require a genius to tell he was dreading what was coming.
Hal nodded. “Mr. Temple. I believe you’re supposed to straighten me out?”
The counselor nodded, swung the door wider, made a sweeping motion for him to come in. Hal did so, standing just inside the door.
“Have a seat, Hal,” Mr. Temple said. He indicated an easy chair in the corner. He returned to the padded chair behind his desk. Leaned back. Nodded. Hesitated. Sighed. Finally said, “So, tell me what this is all about.”
Hal did so, briefly and efficiently.
“So you like to correct your teachers.” Mr. Temple was nodding, trying to look like this was a meaningful insight.
Hal shrugged. “When they’re wrong.”
“And apparently that’s often?”
Again Hal shrugged. “It varies.”
“Uh huh. And you’re always sure you’re right?”
“When I know the subject in question.”
“Which is apparently pretty often, or the principal wouldn’t have sent you down here.”
Hal shrugged for a third time.
“So, Hal. Let’s talk about why you do this.”
“I already explained that, sir.”
“Yes. I know. You explained that you do it when your teachers are wrong.”
“Yes.”
“Do you also correct your parents when they’re wrong?”
“I only have one, sir.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Your parents are divorced?”
“My mother died three years ago.”
Mr. Temple’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
Hal waited.
“What is your father like?”
“He’s…nice.”
“Do you do things together?”
Hal’s expression became confused. “We live together.”
“Yes. I understand. But do you do things together other than just sharing a living space?”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. Do you…go on outings?”
“Outings?”
“Well, like sports events, for instance.”
“He doesn’t like sports. He thinks they’re stupid. Athletes who simply have some particular physical ability that in no way benefits others get paid millions of dollars, while people who do things that actually contribute to society get paid so little by comparison.”
Mr. Temple nodded, rubbing his chin. “I see.” He waited a moment. “Tell me, Hal, would you describe your father as…severe?”
Hal frowned. “Severe? What do you mean?”
“Firm. Stern. Does he…establish rules you have to follow?”
“Not really.”
“Well, how do the two of you relate to each other?”
Hal looked confused. “We talk?”
“Uh huh. What do you talk about?”
“He tells me about his day. I tell him about mine.”
“What does your father do?”
“He’s a professor.”
“A professor?”
“At the college.”
“Oh. What does he teach?”
“Physics.”
“I see. Which would explain, I suppose, why you know a lot about that subject?”
“It helps. I also read about it.”
“So you like physics?”
Hal nodded.
“Are there other subjects you particularly like?”
“Other fields of science. Math. English. History.”
Mr. Temple frowned. “Are there any subjects you don’t like?”
Hal looked away, considering this question. “I don’t know if you’d call it a subject, but I don’t like gym.”
Mr. Temple nodded. “I see. Why not?”
“You don’t learn anything there. You just spend time engaged in some physical activity.”
“Isn’t that what gym is for? To develop your physical side?”
“I suppose.”
“Which you’re not interested in?”
“If we actually learned anything, I might be.”
“Don’t you think the exercise itself is good for you?”
“Maybe.”
Mr. Temple frowned, crossing his arms. “Does your dislike of gym have anything to do with having to get undressed and shower? With other boys?”
Hal scowled. “I don’t think so.”
Mr. Temple rubbed his chin. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty much.”
There was a pause. Then Hal asked: “Did you like gym, sir?”
“Did I like gym?”
Hal nodded.
“Well…not particularly, I suppose.”
“Why didn’t you like it? Did you not like having to get undressed and shower with other boys?”
“Well…it was a long time ago.”
“You must remember something.”
Mr. Temple nodded uncomfortably. “I wasn’t…what you might call a gifted athlete.”
Hal nodded. “Do you feel you need to be a gifted athlete to benefit from exercise?”
“Well…no. I suppose not.”
“What subjects did you like, sir?”
Mr. Temple frowned. “I don’t know.”
“There must have been something. You did go to college, didn’t you?”
“Well, sure.”
“What did you major in?”
“Counseling psychology.”
“So you must like…psychology?”
“I suppose.”
“Have you found this to be a rewarding field?”
“Have I…wait. Why are you asking me questions?”
“Well, since we’re here talking, I was curious. I’ll have to figure out a major myself someday.”
“Are you interested in psychology, Hal?”
“I don’t know a lot about it. But I’d like to learn more. What was your favorite part about it?”
“Oh. Well. I don’t know. Developmental psychology was interesting. Abnormal psychology. There are a lot of subfields.”
“What did you find most interesting about abnormal psychology?”
Mr. Temple took a deep breath, let it out, stared at Hal. “You know, maybe this is enough for one session.”
“Session?”
“That’s just a term…it’s what psychologists call the time they spend with patients.”
“I’m a patient?”
“No. No. It’s just…no.” There was an awkward pause.
“You were saying?”
“Ah…maybe we should stop here.” He picked up his scheduling planner, leafed through it. “Could you come in again…let’s see…Wednesday? Say during lunch period?”
Hal nodded. “Okay.”
“And meanwhile…”
“Yes?”
“Could you try not to correct your teachers? Just for two days?”
“I suppose.”
“Good. Thank you, Hal. I think we’re making progress. Good talking with you.”
Hal shrugged, stood, and left.
***
Wednesday arrived, Hal knocked on the school counselor’s door, and Mr. Temple opened it and ushered him in. Hal took the same easy chair in the corner. Mr. Temple sat down in his padded desk chair. He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. “How have you been, Hal?”
Hal shrugged. “Okay.”
“I haven’t heard of any more teacher corrections.”
“I said I wouldn’t. For two days.”
“Thank you for adhering to that promise.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t ever do it again.”
“No. But being able to restrain yourself even for two days is a sign of progress.”
“Oh?”
“An important part of life is something called delayed gratification.”
“You mean waiting to get what you want for a while?”
“Exactly. Studies have shown that young people who can delay gratification do far better in life.”
“How so?”
“They’re more successful.”
“In what ways?”
“I don’t know. Career success? Setting and keeping life goals.” He paused. “Do you have life goals, Hal?”
“Life goals?”
“Things you’d like to accomplish in your life.”
“Would leaving high school count?”
Mr. Temple smiled. “I suppose.” He looked at Hal. “What do you want to do when you graduate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you thought about it?”
“A little.” He hesitated. “Did you know what you wanted to do when you graduated, Mr. Temple?”
“Me?”
Hal nodded.
“Well…I knew I wanted to go to college.”
“Did you have a major in mind?”
“Um…no. Not at that time.”
“Do you think of your life as successful?”
Mr. Temple frowned. “I think we’re getting off topic again.”
“I’m just curious. I’ll be facing this situation soon. Just to be clear, would you say it was essential to know what you wanted to do when you graduated from high school to be a successful adult?”
“No. Of course not.”
Hal nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Let’s get back to you, Hal. You mentioned you live alone with your father?”
“Yes.”
“And we started to talk about that. Can you tell me anything more about him?”
“Like?”
“Well, you mentioned you talk to each other about what your days were like. What are his days like?”
“It depends.”
“On?”
“What he did that day.”
Mr. Temple scowled. “Can you think of any examples?”
“He teaches classes. Sometimes he talks about those.”
“What about them?”
“What topics he was covering. Whether students asked interesting questions.”
“Do students sometimes point out how he’s wrong?”
Hal frowned. “Not exactly.”
Mr. Temple cocked his head in a gesture inviting further explanation.
“They sometimes offer ideas he hasn’t thought of.”
“Ah. And how does he react to those?”
“They’re his favorite part of the day. He loves it.”
Mr. Temple nodded. “I see.” There was a pause. “Well, let me ask this. Do you miss your mother?”
Hal nodded. “Yeah. A lot.”
“You said she died three years ago?”
“Yes.”
“What was she like?”
Hal shrugged. “I don’t know. Like a mother, I guess.”
“What does that mean to you?”
Hal frowned. “I don’t know. She…talked to me. Cooked. Did laundry. Read to me.”
“What you might call nurturing activities?”
“I suppose.”
“Was it hard when she died?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“And you still think about her?”
“Yes. Not all the time, but often.”
“What do you miss most?”
Hal looked away, thinking. “Having her there?”
Mr. Temple nodded, a knowing nod.
“What was your mother like?” Hal asked.
“My mother?”
Hal nodded.
“I don’t know.”
“Did your parents get along well?”
Mr. Temple frowned. “Pretty well. They had their differences, I suppose. No marriage is perfect.”
“What were their differences?”
Mr. Temple frowned. “Well, she didn’t drink. My father liked to have a couple cocktails when he got home from work.”
“And this caused problems?”
“Sometimes.”
“How?”
“They’d sometimes get into arguments.”
“Loud ones?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you have siblings?”
“I had a brother and sister.”
“Older or younger?”
Mr. Temple hesitated. “I think we’re getting off track again, Hal.”
“I’m just trying to learn about your background, Mr. Temple.”
“Yes. I understand. But I think I’m supposed to be learning about your background.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I don’t think I asked you about your siblings. Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“No. I’m an only child.”
Mr. Temple nodded knowingly. “Uh huh.”
“What does that mean?”
“What?”
“Uh huh.”
“It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“Necessarily?”
“I was just acknowledging that fact.”
“That I’m an only child?”
“Yes.”
“Is that something you study in psychology?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“And?”
Mr. Temple hesitated. “Nothing. It just is.”
“Then why study it?”
“Well, sometimes…”
“Yes?”
He waved his arm in a dismissive gesture. “It’s not important.”
There was a pause. Finally Mr. Temple said, “Perhaps that’s a good place to stop for today.”
Hal shrugged. “Okay.”
He looked at his scheduling calendar again. “How about Friday, same time?”
“Okay.”
***
Friday came, and again Hal entered Mr. Temple’s office and sat down.
“Hello, Hal.”
Hal nodded.
“How are you today?”
“Okay.”
“I still haven’t heard of any more teacher corrections.”
“I haven’t encountered any more errors.”
“Does that mean you’re going to continue to correct them if you do?”
“Don’t you think I should?”
Mr. Temple frowned. “Well, there are two ways of looking at this.”
“Aren’t they either right or wrong?”
“Yes. But sometimes it’s more important to overlook a flaw in someone for the sake of the relationship.”
“Isn’t the relationship a student has with a teacher that he learns from them?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“So how does it help if they say things that aren’t true?”
“That’s not quite what I was getting at.” Mr. Temple looked away, frowning. Sighed. “Do you have friends who have traits that bother you, Hal?”
“I don’t have many friends.”
“You don’t have friends?”
“Well…a couple. But we’re not all that close.”
Mr. Temple nodded slowly, in a way that suggested he found this significant. “And why do you think that’s the case, Hal?”
“I don’t know. My father is the same way. I don’t view it as a particular problem.”
“Your father doesn’t have friends?”
“Well, he has colleagues. That he likes. But I don’t think he views them as close friends.”
“I see.” Spoken in that same slow manner.
“What does that mean?”
“I’m trying to piece together in my mind your home situation. Your mother has died. You live alone with your father. And he sounds like a bit of a…loner?”
Hal frowned. “I don’t think he’d call himself a loner. He seems pretty comfortable with who he is.”
“Yes, but perhaps that explains why you don’t have close friends?”
“Because he’s my ‘role model’?” Hal made finger quotation marks around ‘role model’.
“Isn’t that possible?”
“Do you have close friends, Mr. Temple?”
He hesitated. “Yeah. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Well, yes. I have friends.”
“How would you describe your parents in this regard?”
He looked away, considering this. “They had friends.”
“Close ones?”
“I don’t know. How do you judge that?”
“Good question.”
Mr. Temple frowned, apparently thinking about this question. Hal said, “What about when you were in high school. Did you have close friends then?”
Mr. Temple’s frown turned into a scowl. “Here we are again, getting off the topic, Hal.”
“I thought we were talking about friends.”
He nodded. “Let’s move on to a different topic. What about girls?”
“What about them?”
“Do you like them?”
“As a class?”
“Well, okay.”
“No.”
“You don’t like girls.” His tone suggested this was significant.
“Not as a class. I don’t like any class of things. I try to judge people as individuals.”
“Oh. Well, are there individual girls you like?”
“I don’t really know any very well. There are a couple I’d like to know.”
“Ah. Why?”
“They’re cute. They seem interesting.”
“But you don’t have an actual girlfriend or anything?”
“No.”
Mr. Temple nodded.
“Did you have girlfriends in high school?” Hal asked.
He frowned. “Not…really.”
“So you wouldn’t say that is…abnormal?”
“No. I suppose not.”
“Are you married, Mr. Temple?”
“Yes.”
“How did you meet your wife?”
“In a psychology class.”
“What attracted you to her?”
“I don’t know. She happened to sit next to me in a class. She was cute. She seemed interesting.”
“Uh huh,” Hal said knowingly.
Mr. Temple frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You made it sound significant,” he said, a bit defensively.
Hal frowned. “Have you always wanted to be a counselor?”
“No.”
“What would you say attracted you to the field?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was part of it wanting to understand yourself better?”
Mr. Temple scowled. “Hal, this is not why we’re here.”
“I’m interested in learning, including how men meet women. And how they choose their career fields.”
“Hal, we need to stick to the reason you’re here.”
“That I want to learn?”
“That you constantly correct teachers. That’s disruptive of classes.”
“Disruptive?”
“It upsets teachers. It makes other students think they’re not very smart. This causes problems.”
“Maybe they’re not very smart.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It isn’t?”
“You need to try to see it from their perspective.”
“That they’re wrong?”
“No. That it disrupts their classes when you constantly point out that they’re wrong.”
“So I should just sit and listen when they say things that are wrong.”
“It’s not that black and white. There are different ways to interpret things. They may just have a different interpretation.”
“Like that Newton’s knowledge of physics from three hundred years ago is up to date?”
“No. But he was a very smart man. He advanced the field of physics significantly. Can’t you accept that in terms of its importance historically?”
“I do accept it historically. This wasn’t a history class. It was a science class. I want to know what physicists know today. Things have changed in three hundred years.”
Mr. Temple looked away, saying nothing for several moments. Finally he looked back. “Okay Hal, let’s figure out a way to fix this so we’re both happy.”
“I’m not unhappy.”
“I’m aware of that. But you’re making other people unhappy.”
“Are you saying happiness is more important than being right?”
“We have to get along with other people in life, sometimes even when they’re wrong.”
Hal frowned. “That doesn’t seem fair to me.”
“Life isn’t always fair.”
“So you just want me to let teachers say anything, even if they don’t know what they’re talking about?”
“Not exactly. But life has its tradeoffs.”
“How is that a tradeoff? You want me to give up something that’s important to me. What do I get in trade?”
Mr. Temple rubbed his chin, sighed. “What would you like, Hal?”
“You’re offering me something in return?”
“Maybe. Depends on what it is.”
“So you want me to name something that would be equal to not correcting teachers when they’re wrong?”
He nodded.
Hal looked away, thinking. Then back. “No more gym class.”
“No more gym class?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Don’t you do the scheduling?”
“Well, yes.”
“So you know how to change students’ schedules?”
“Well, yes.”
“So just change mine. Give me a study hall or something instead of gym class.”
“There are state laws about this.”
“Enforced by?”
“Well, high schools. But there are requirements for graduation.”
Hal frowned. “As the scheduler, if you say I’ve satisfied that requirement, won’t that take care of it?”
“What if there’s an audit?”
“Has there ever been an audit?”
Mr. Temple hesitated. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Wouldn’t you know if there had been?”
“I suppose.”
“Well?”
Mr. Temple frowned. Stared at Hal. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“You’re asking me to give up something important to me. Which it seems to me should be important to anyone who runs a school. Doesn’t seem like such a big sacrifice for that.”
Mr. Temple rubbed his face. Sighed. “So you’re saying, if I get you out of gym class, you’ll stop correcting your teachers?”
Hal shrugged. “Yeah. At least most of the time.”
“Hal.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop correcting teachers.”
“All the time?”
“Unless it’s something really outrageous. Yes.”
Mr. Temple rolled his eyes. Sighed. Held out his hand. “Okay, Hal. You’ve got a deal.”
Hal shook his hand. Stood. Picked up his backpack. Headed for the door. Turned back. “Good talking with you, Mr. Temple.”
Charles Dayton has written two collections of short stories exploring fantasy and science fiction, a series of five mysteries, and three novels exploring the human condition through homelessness, coming of age, and seeking meaning in mid-life. His career began teaching English at a community college in New York, after which he led an educational research group at the University of California at Berkeley for many years. He lives in an old gold mining town in the foothills of the California Sierra Nevada. He most recently published a short story titled “The Talkies” in Down in the Dirt (June 2026). Additional publications are detailed at charlesdayton.net.
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