So, the kid spent 14 hours in juvie and returned to the house. Nothing has changed. Assault charges are pending, and he's still waiting for a hospital placement. The whole thing seems like a huge waste of time and mental effort. The arrest means nothing, which brings us, (staff, us), back to the original position of why bother calling the police at all. We don't call based on the action of being hit or shoved. We call when a kid is so out of control that the other kids are unsafe. Usually, we call after 4-5 separate incidents, or if a kid refuses to put down a weapon of some sort. But, once it's down the police won't take them. So Kid X sets the stick, bottle of bleach, glass shard, and nods respectfully to the officer for about 20 minutes. Which is handy, in that it removes a kid from the group for that amount of time, but useless in the long run. It seems that the only reason to call the cops is to get a kid out of the house for the night, which I guess, is helpful. But, it doesn't help the kid at all, it just shuts him up for a few hours. So, blah blah blah, that's my system vent about the depressing side of my job.
On the flip side, my hippie neighbor gave me his apartment and all it's contents yesterday. Bequeathed, so to speak, so he can bolt for the midwest, because that's how he rolls. His words, not mine. I haven't investigated yet, but the curiosity will have me there by tomorrow. Only in O-Town, or only to me, I'm not sure. Maybe I gave birth to this town in a former life.