69传媒

An hour before pale-yellow light begins to lap across the fields of winter wheat, Tim Harmon is already whizzing down the highway that cuts through this hinterland to reach his first patient before the school bell rings.

Like a one-man emotional ER, the tireless school psychologist bolts into a classroom and conducts a 15-minute one-on-one counseling session with a student who threatened to hang himself last year. Then, satisfied that the boy is stabilized, he speeds off to his next case, at a school more than 100 miles east.

Mr. Harmon treks 3,000 miles a month, spreading his time among five school systems flung across the vast Dakota plains, conducting IQ tests, unearthing tales of child abuse, and sometimes thwarting a suicide.

Last year, he saved a 16-year-old girl poised to leap out of a school鈥檚 third-floor restroom window. 鈥淚 just happened to be there in time to grab her and pull her back in,鈥� he said.

Half the schoolchildren in the United States who seek mental-health care get it at school. But districts, with rare exceptions, give low priority to professional mental-health services.

As a result, school psychologists and social workers are spread thin. In the United States, the ratio of school psychologists to students is about 1-to-1,500.

With a bigger-than-average caseload鈥�2,000 students鈥攊n one of the most sparsely populated regions of the country, Mr. Harmon is spread thinner than most.

Mr. Harmon is quick to point out that South Dakota has more garden-variety psychoses per capita than most regions of the country. The state ranks third-highest in the nation for teenage suicides, with a rate that鈥檚 double the national average: Roughly 11 of every 100,000 10- to 19-year-olds in the state take their own lives.

At the same time, the economically struggling state devotes little money to mental health. Fiscally conservative lawmakers recently abandoned the state鈥檚 requirement that every district hire a guidance counselor鈥攑eople mental-health experts see as well-placed antennae to detect and transmit valuable information about students in trouble.

Under such circumstances, the 80 school psychologists in South Dakota鈥攍ike their overworked colleagues in other states鈥攁re asked to do little more than conduct the mandatory diagnostic tests for special education and gifted classes. But Mr. Harmon, 32, deplores desk duty. He sees his job as psychological triage: 鈥淵ou leave the little fires burning until you can put out the big ones.鈥�

Barren Horizon

Racing across the monotonously flat landscape鈥攊nterrupted only by haystacks, grain elevators, and the occasional lonesome clump of trees鈥擬r. Harmon said one reason teenagers here tend to be more despondent than most is that they and their families see few opportunities on the horizon.

As he listens to President Clinton over the car radio issuing an upbeat assessment of the nation鈥檚 robust economy at the turn of the new millennium, Mr. Harmon shakes his head: 鈥淭he economy isn鈥檛 booming over here.鈥�

A decade ago, 90 percent of the families in this southern swatch of South Dakota farmed. Today, 60 percent have jobs in agriculture. Farm prices are at a historic low; people are selling their equipment and taking jobs at truck stops or migrating to Sioux Falls or Rapid City.

As he pulls his weather-beaten Chevrolet Prizm into the Platt High School parking lot, Mr. Harmon points out that the frustrations of out-of-work farmers can translate into domestic violence.

On a recent school assignment to compile a wish list for 2000, one 4th grader Mr. Harmon counsels expressed a typical sentiment: 鈥淚 wish crop prices would go up so Mom and Dad would stop fighting.鈥�

As he enters the teachers鈥� lounge at Platt, Mr. Harmon finds out about three cases of child abuse, one divorce, and a parent鈥檚 suicide attempt in less time than it takes teachers to finish their morning coffee and muffins.

Then comes the most bizarre tale of the morning: A junior told her teacher that her parents have been holding parties at their home where they offered up her and her two sisters as sex slaves to their drug-addicted guests. 鈥淭he kids were offered as door prizes,鈥� Mr. Harmon said.

Before leaving the school, Mr. Harmon heads upstairs to visit one of his regular clients鈥擩eff Vanderheiden, a hulking, 6-foot-3-inch junior who suffers from severe depression. The 18-year-old threatened to kill himself twice before anyone called Mr. Harmon for help last year. With 95 students, Platt High School is so small that the principal also serves as a counselor鈥攁 role Mr. Harmon said is counterproductive. 69传媒 are reluctant to reach out to their chief disciplinarian if they have an emotional problem, he said.

As soon as Mr. Harmon found out about Jeff鈥檚 second suicide attempt, he drove the teenager to the nearest hospital himself鈥�120 miles away. Jeff needs regular psychological counseling, but the nearest clinic is 90 miles from school. County mental- health clinics already are bulging with adult patients, and they don鈥檛 make house calls. If Mr. Harmon didn鈥檛 drive more than two hours from his home to counsel the adolescent at school every other week, no one would.

And Jeff says he鈥檚 grateful to have someone to talk to.

鈥淭his year, I literally wanted to end it all. I had a difficult time making friends,鈥� he said after a brief chat with Mr. Harmon. 鈥淭im helps me. He鈥檚 like concrete. My road was so bumpy until he filled it out with his advice.鈥�

Routine Testing

Since he can鈥檛 provide one-on-one therapy sessions with every student in his 145-square-mile region, Mr. Harmon uses the academic-testing sessions he鈥檚 required to conduct to determine whether a youngster has emotional problems that need attention.

In a given month, he administers 30 tests; while he鈥檚 diagnosing verbal acuity and reasoning skills, he鈥檚 also on the lookout for signs of depression or sociopathic tendencies.

Today, a chatty 6-year-old boy is zipping through a routine IQ test. As the boy flips through dozens of cue cards of animal pictures and parallelograms designed to test memory, Mr. Harmon casually ask the kindergartner about his family. His father, he says, has moved out of the house, and he hasn鈥檛 seen him much since.

Mr. Harmon tracked down the boy鈥檚 teacher after the test to tell her about the family situation. The teacher said that might explain why the youngster had been more withdrawn lately. It might also explain why the bright boy scored below average on the IQ test.

鈥淗e may be having emotional problems due to the family鈥檚 instability,鈥� said Mr. Harmon, who will retest the boy at a later date.

That afternoon, Mr. Harmon drove the 100 miles back to his hometown school in Kimball for a session of play therapy with a volatile 5th grader.

In a cramped utility room鈥攖he only quiet spot available at Kimball Elementary School鈥擬r. Harmon asked the boy to set up the rules for a made-up game called Pinball 2000. Mr. Harmon said the 10-year-old has 鈥渁nger control鈥� issues鈥攈e once threw his 3-year-old sister down a flight of stairs鈥攁nd he needs to learn how to obey rules because his home environment is unstructured.

鈥淧arents aren鈥檛 raising kids with rules,鈥� Mr. Harmon said. 鈥淭hey should discipline them while they鈥檙e young, and later give children freedom. But they do the opposite: give the young ones freedom and then micromanage the teens, which just makes kids aggressive.鈥�

Many of the parents here really don鈥檛 want his help. In fact, the prevailing sentiment in the rural communities he serves is that the church, not psychologists, should tend to children鈥檚 emotional needs. The idea is that psychology goes against the Bible鈥檚 teaching because it preaches reliance on oneself instead of God.

鈥淭hey think that psychologists are the spawn of Satan,鈥� said Mr. Harmon, who usually introduces himself to parents simply as a school employee.

In addition, the pioneering spirit of self-reliance here has had the effect of muting calls for additional state aid for such services.

Bob Mercer, a spokesman for Gov. William J. Janklow, said rural districts in Mr. Harmon鈥檚 region that are losing population should cut other administrative jobs if they want to hire more counselors.

鈥淗ow do you deliver services in a state where population is declining? They must be more efficient,鈥� Mr. Mercer said.

One principal said that with what schools can afford to pay counselors鈥�$27,000 a year鈥攊t鈥檚 hard to find qualified applicants in any case.

Donna Knipers, a special education teacher at Platt High School who functions as the de facto counselor, said she is worried that more students like Jeff are roaming the halls with suicidal thoughts.

鈥淚 can trust my gut instincts, but we need someone here who can intervene when there鈥檚 a crisis,鈥� Ms. Knipers said. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 feel comfortable handling matters that are literally life and death.鈥�