KALICO: 1 Hypnotized, Naked in Hope Springs, Texas

Kalico: Hypnotized? Not Me!

Kalico: Monday, last week of summer vacation

I peeked slowly out the door of the boys' restroom to make sure the hallway was clear. Then I dashed across the corridor to rejoin Mr. Coltwright.

Not knowing exactly how to face him or what to say, I just sat back down on that same bench, caught my breath for a moment, put my knees and ankles together, my hands on my lap, looked at him and said "Golly!" as my jaw fell open in amazement.

"Golly!" I said again, "What just happened?"

"What do you think just happened? Any guess?" he asked – sounding just like a teacher.

"We were talking about hypnosis, and you were going to give me a little thing to do after I left here, just to see if I might even think about doing it. Then you told me to go without saying good bye."

Clearing my throat I pressed on. "But I wasn't hypnotized. It didn't feel the slightest like hypnosis and I remember everything that we said and did. And I didn't pee in the boys restroom, or the girls locker room, like you said – at least not till I came back up here.

"Then, I decided maybe I would give you a chance to talk about however posthypnotic things are supposed to work, so I stopped by that restroom anyway before coming back in here."

"Decided to stop by there?" he asked. "You arrived at full gallop. I thought some monster was chasing you."

"Well, ok, yes I did decide to hurry; no point in putting it off," I squirmed, trying not to face the truth.

"And do you think that might be because of hypnosis?" he asked.

"No way! I wasn't hypnotized. I would know it if I was, I remember it all."

"Let's allow you to think about it overnight, and discuss it tomorrow after your sports practice. Would that be all right?" He asked, and I nodded.

"Forgive me if I didn't make this clear when we started that exercise, but scoring real well, on the hypnosis test will not necessarily increase your chances of being admitted to the Advanced Placement class. But likewise, scoring badly on it will not hurt your chances," he explained.

"Let's finish talking about the expectations of the class. You will be expected to do a research paper and a separate project or more, in addition to your regular class work."

I think my eyes must have gotten bigger when he said that.

"The others will be doing research on sexual activities and family relationships. Everyone will also be assigned a short library research on the topic of The Westermarck Effect. You should be able to do that in a few pages of text. You could even do it this week before school starts if you wish, and turn it in when you're ready. It will still count for your project. And of course you'll also need another research topic or two.

"Westermark effect?" I asked. "Is that some sort of personal problem syndrome?"

"No, it's more of a sociological phenomenon," and he wrote it out for me – I don't know how he could tell I was misspelling it in the way I said that. "Westermarck Effect."

"Since you probably won't be having a partner in the class, I think you may enjoy doing a research project on hypnosis. Something more specific, maybe, such as posthypnotic suggestions. You could keep notes and attempt to describe your feelings as you do some posthypnotic tasks." He beamed at this idea.

"Yes but I wasn't really hypnotized, so how will I know if I'm doing one?"

"Kalico! Give yourself a chance to actually be in the class! Today is just a sample day. Who knows? You may get scared and withdraw your application. Or we may discover you can't write your journal well enough yet to be in the class this year. If that happens, you can simply take the introductory psychology class this year and take the AP class in your sophomore year.

"At this point let's be optimistic. You'll do just fine. And if for any reason you can't manage the workload, everyone will still love you." he encouraged.

I could tell he was needling me, but I didn't care – he was getting to me. What did he mean I might not be able to write well enough in this journal? I'll show him journal – and more details than he ever wanted to know about penguins.

That's a joke. If you don't know the story about the little boy who wrote "this book told me more than I ever wanted to know about penguins" then you are even more out of touch than I am.

"OK, I'll think about what we were doing here, and save it until tomorrow. And in the meantime I'll show you how I can write."

We shook hands (shaking hands with a teacher!) and I headed downstairs toward the office.