Tales out of School: A Headteacher's Memoir

CHAPTER ONE: A LESSON FOR THE TEACHER

Lilly is a pale, sad-looking child, who rarely smiles. Her hair has a tendency to fall in two mousy-brown curtains, straight down on either side of her face. Her arms are speckled with eczema, which chafes her until she is forced to scratch it, leaving patches of skin that are red and raw. This is hardly good for her temper, which is not exactly serene at the best of times. All in all, the odds are stacked against this little girl. She is never going to come first in the popularity stakes.

Lilly is seven years old, so she’s been at this school for some time – longer than me in fact, as I only took up my new post a few weeks ago - but I’ve been told that she really struggles to make friends. With any potential playmate, she always does something to repel them. Often things will be going swimmingly and then take a sudden, inexplicable turn for the worse. She will call them names, announce that she doesn’t like them anymore, or on her worst days, she will bite them. It might be a hand, an arm, an ear, or even a cheek. If Lilly is in one of her dark moods, the other children have learned to give her a wide berth, but it is not always possible to predict her frame of mind.

I’m patrolling the playground this morning. This is not exactly top of the list of tasks for a newly appointed Headteacher, but I want to get to know the children. I spot Lilly playing with Arthur, who is a new pupil. It seems that they have invented a marvellous game. They have found a heap of sycamore seeds that have been dropped by a couple of ancient trees overhanging our yard. The two of them have obviously collected them up, tucking handfuls into their pockets and stuffing the rest up their jumpers. Shrieking with laughter, they rush over to the benches, jumping onto the seats and reaching up so that the seeds are as high in the air as they can get them. With complete and utter abandon, they release great cascades of them, yelling encouragement as they watch the seeds drift lazily down like tiny helicopters.

The game is much admired and there is soon a steady stream of would-be players who advance, request, and are spurned. Their eyes sparkle with the excitement of being envied and they throw the seeds still higher, by standing on their very tiptoes. Their giggles seem to fizz in the air, like sherbet lemons. Perhaps it was a gust of wind that did it, or perhaps Arthur turned a little too quickly, but all of a sudden there is a blood-curdling cry. A seed has flown into Lilly’s eye. She rounds on Arthur with a visible snarl.

“I HATE you!” she bellows at the top of her lungs, as Arthur cowers and moves away from her. “You did it ON PURPOSE!" “No I never!” snivels Arthur, all too aware that the bright mood of their wonderful game has suddenly darkened and that this new version of Lilly is someone that he no longer recognises. I move to intercept, but Lilly is too quick for me. In an instant she’s off that bench, seeded treasures discarded without a thought, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of Arthur’s rounded calf. The red mist has descended and no thought is given to the fact that it is her new friend that she’s biting.

I swoop in and hand poor Arthur, who is sobbing his little heart out, to a member of staff. He is less distressed at the pain of the bite and more at the fact that his new friend has turned on him. I take Lilly by the hand and escort her straight to my office. Unfortunately, she has already been given two warnings for biting, so now it’s time to call her Dad. I pick up the phone and explain what she has done, asking him to come down to school, so that I can discuss with him what happens next. Lilly’s Dad listens quietly, saying little.

“I’ll be right there,” he growls suddenly, and the phone goes dead. I alert the secretary, Mrs Evans, to my impending visitor.

“Lilly’s Dad’s coming here?” queries Mrs Evans, raising her eyebrows as she turns towards her admin assistant. “You’ve called him into school?”

Unless I am very much mistaken, there is a slightly incredulous tone to her voice.

“Have you ever met him?” she asks.

I haven’t, but this is about to be remedied, for the buzzer promptly sounds at the front door. I watch him enter and brush off the office ladies as if they were flies – a mere irritation – before pounding his way down the corridor towards me. First, I take in the shaved head, then the Doc Marten boots, laced almost to his knees. Bright red. It is hard to miss his tattoos, exposed beautifully as they are by the once-white singlet he is wearing. Most striking of all, though, is his collection of piercings. I have never seen anything like it. There isn’t much of his face that isn’t punctured by some ring, bar or spike. I find him an absolutely terrifying sight as he draws closer and I can see the anger in his face. I have to work hard to stand firm and avoid taking a step backwards.

“Where is the little bugger?” he roars at the top of his voice.

I suspect he can be heard by half the school. Certainly, the infants sitting in a row waiting to receive plasters for their bumped knees have heard him and their eyes are like saucers. They are torn between terror and admiration. This man has actually sworn in school. In front of the Headteacher. “If a’ve told ‘er once, a’ve told ‘er a hundred times – when Miss says yer don’t bite, YER DON’T BITE!!” he yells.

Well that took the wind from my sails. I explain that we need to have a chat before we send for Lilly. I escort him into my office and we sit down. He tells me that he is beside himself that Lilly won’t stop biting. He’s already grounded her after the first two incidents and this time, he intends to take away all her toys from her bedroom so that the only thing left is her bed. While I applaud his intentions, I realise that Lily needs to feel there is a way out. I tell him that we need to use the carrot as well as the stick. When he looks at me blankly, I explain that we need to build in rewards so that she sees the benefit of good behaviour. We also need to set an end date for the punishments, otherwise, there is nothing for her to gain by being well-behaved.

I ask what she most likes to do at home and he tells me that she loves to ride her bike, but that he rarely has time to supervise her. We agree that riding her bike with him as her companion would make a good reward. I explain that when we bring Lilly in, she needs to see the two of us sitting side by side, a visual reminder that we are working together. I also suggest that while she does need to know that she has crossed a line by biting someone once again, she also needs to know that it is her behaviour we are cross about, rather than feeling we are angry at her. Dad agrees to tone down his understandable frustration and we send for his daughter.

When Lilly arrives, we seat her opposite us and Dad reins in his temper admirably, telling her that he is really disappointed that I’ve had to call him into school. She hangs her head. He tells her that as she’s already grounded, he’s going to take all her toys away for two days. I chip in, saying that she will also lose all her playtimes at school for two days. At that point, I explain, everything will go back to normal. She will get her playtimes back and her toys at home. Dad will also stop grounding her, but this will only continue as long as she avoids biting people. I ask if she understands and she nods her head at us. Then I explain that Dad has decided to give her a special reward at the end of each week, if she can go a full week without biting. When Dad tells her that the reward is to ride her bike with him, I can see that we’ve hit on the right choice. She visibly straightens up and beams at her father. I remind her that this reward will only happen if she can stop herself from biting anyone. Dad explains to his daughter that he’s doing this because he wants her to be a good girl, to do well in school, to please her teachers and to make lots of friends. I want to hug him. I want a hundred more like him.

As Lilly heads on back to class, he turns to me and I hold out my hand.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, as he shakes it. “I think I’ve been going over the top with the punishments. It’s been a nightmare since her Mum passed last year. I do my best, but as you can see…….” He tails off sadly.

I feel my eyes prickle. I simply had no idea. I wonder whether anyone in school did, or whether they just haven’t got around to telling me yet. I feel the need to offer some kind of comfort, so I grip his hand tighter and clasp it between both of mine.

“I think your best is just fine,” I reply firmly and I see, with pleasure, that my words have meant something to him. I’m more confident, with a better understanding of what we are dealing with, that we will be able to help Lilly do better. He departs, piercings glinting in the sunlight and tattoos rippling across each bicep, but I see him quite differently now. It seems that I am the one who has learned a lesson today.

CHAPTER TWO: TOY STORY

Monday morning starts with tasks that are already becoming quite familiar to me; chivvying latecomers, responding to emails and writing lots of cheques. I’ve been trying to postpone my next scintillating task, which is to revise the Health and Safety Policy. What a joy. But there’s a knock on the door – it’s a welcome relief and it’s Alison. She is my newly appointed Office Manager, following the retirement of Mrs Evans, the school secretary, last week. I have created a brand-new role which supports me in managing the budget as well as handling general administration and Alison got the job. She and I have been working together for a couple of months now and we get on well, which is great. An unexpected bonus is that it turns out she is brilliant with children.

“I think you need to have a word with Callum,” she announces firmly, as she hovers in my doorway. “He’s been sent out of class by Mrs Thompson for messing around with a toy in the middle of maths and now he’s hidden it in his pocket and won’t hand it over.”

I nod and ask her to fetch him, moving out from behind my desk to one of the four comfy chairs. She ushers him in and stays in the room with us, as a safety precaution. I have learned to my cost that if I speak to a child on their own, they can tell their parents a completely different version of what took place in my office. I’ve been rather taken aback that they don’t necessarily believe me, even though I’m the Headteacher. So now I always make sure I have a witness, and I’ve discovered that Alison is a great one. She knows just when to chime in.

“So, Callum,” I begin. “Tell me what’s been going on in maths this morning.” He shuffles and won’t meet my eyes.

“Nothing,” he mumbles.

“Now that isn’t going to work Callum,” I reply. “This can take a few minutes, if you tell me what’s been going on, or it can end up taking ages and becoming much more serious than it needs to be. I already know that you’ve been messing around with a toy. Why didn’t you hand it over to Mrs Thompson when she asked for it?”

“I can’t!” he bursts out, clearly worried. “My Grandma gave it to me. It’s to calm me down if I get upset or angry.”

Callum is often in trouble for lashing out when he gets angry, so this does make sense.

“OK, I understand that it’s important to you, but it shouldn’t have come out in a lesson. I need you to give it to me now please.”

He is still hesitating, but reluctantly he reaches into his pocket and gets out a small, shiny red object about 3 inches long. He places it in the palm of my hand. It looks like an elongated bullet. I hear Alison trying to smother a snort and wonder what the problem is.

“What it is?” I ask Callum.

“Grandma says that I should turn it on, so it can vibrate in my hand to calm me down.”

This time there is no getting around the huge splutter Alison lets loose. She is signalling frantically, just out of his line of vision. Suddenly, she gives a roll of her eyes and stands up.

“Would you mind stepping out into the hallway for a moment Callum, please? I just need to have a quick word with Mrs.C,” she says with a smile.

Callum leaves us as requested and she shuts the door carefully behind him.

She rounds on me with a whispered shout.

“Put that disgusting thing down! It’s a vibrator!”

“Yes, he’s just told me it vibrates,” I reply, “but I’m not sure what it actually does.”

“Oh my God, Mrs.C, you are so innocent at times. I mean it’s a sex toy – that kind of vibrator!”

I practically throw it on the table, appalled that I’ve touched it. This does not look anything like a vibrator to me (I saw some once in a Belgian shop window). It’s much smaller, for a start, and it is not anatomically correct by any stretch of the imagination, but I have learned in only a short space of time that Alison is very knowledgeable about the world. Rather reluctantly, I believe her. Now we have the task of finding out how he got hold of the wretched thing and whether he knows what it is. He’s only eight years old. I sigh and ask her to bring Callum back in.

“Callum, I’m afraid I do not for one minute believe that your Grandma gave you this. I need to know where you got it from and trust me – if you don’t tell me the truth, I will ring your Mum.”

Callum reluctantly confesses that he found it on his Mum’s dressing table. After a short and rather delicate discussion, I am confident that he doesn’t know what it is, which is a huge relief. It appears that he liked it because it is shiny and it vibrates. I have absolutely no intention of explaining what it is, so I focus on the fact that he shouldn’t be taking any of his Mum’s belongings without her permission. I do say, with great restraint, that I will be returning it directly to her. He shuffles off back to class, clearly relieved that he isn’t in more trouble. I get Alison to ring his Mum and ask her to pop in later when she collects him, as this is a conversation that cannot be had over the phone. I am really not looking forward to it at all.

When Callum’s Mum arrives, I ask her to take a seat. The vibrator is on the coffee table in between us, covered discretely by a sheet of paper. I explain that Callum was messing about with something that he had brought in from home that he really shouldn’t have had in his possession. Here comes the big reveal.

“Now Mrs. Gregory, I’m going to show you what he brought into school and it’s likely to be embarrassing for both of us, but I’m confident that we’ll get through it together.”

I uncover the vibrator. She gasps and turns bright scarlet.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she half-whispers. “I have no idea how he got hold of that. I keep it hidden in my underwear drawer.”

Any chance that Alison was wrong about this object has, sadly, just flown out of the window. With a nervous laugh, she slips it into her pocket.

“Don’t worry,” I soothe. “I’m fairly confident that he has no idea what it is, but you need to talk to him about respecting your personal belongings and the fact that nothing should be brought in from home without your knowledge.”

She is clearly hugely relieved that I’m not going to make more of a fuss about it and she can’t wait to be gone. We smile politely at each other and I shake her hand. I’m sure Callum is going to get a real blasting when he gets home, but I am absolutely certain she is not going to explain to him what he found. Despite our cordial leave-taking, I also suspect it will be weeks before she is able to look me in the eye. It has been an interesting day and I know it’s going to be weeks before Alison lets me forget that I had no idea what the damn thing was.