It was lunch time. The rest of the students were running around the playground, wrapped up in coats, breathing out small clouds of air - as if they were smoking. As I went through the papers on the desk of the teacher I was covering, I noticed Matt standing by himself, not quite inside, not quite outside. He'd been difficult in class for the majority of the day, refusing to do certain tasks, walking around the classroom, chatting unnecessarily. The usual. He was a part of the perfect storm of misbehaving students and it had been a long and difficult few hours. There were many deep breaths on my behalf, as the countless personalities challenged and prevented the day from running on schedule.
But now they were all running off some of their unrelenting energy - everyone but Matt. He was staring forlornly out the window and I suspected it was because of a disagreement with a fellow student. The Deputy Head had just left the classroom after briefly chatting with me about how it was all going and I could hear her conversing with Matt about why he was where he was. I couldn't quite make it out but I heard something along the lines of "...wanting to help Mr.B...".
Admittedly, I wasn't over the moon when the Deputy returned with him, asking if there was something that he could help with. He'd been so difficult and so frustrating that the idea of having a conversation with him wasn't all that appealing. But I was about to blu-tac some work up on the walls and he could help with that.
It turned out to be one of the most important interactions I've ever had with a student.
I explained that we didn't need too much of the 'tac' on the sheet of paper (experience has taught me that students always think that you need a big blob otherwise it doesn't work). Then, as it was Monday, I asked him how his weekend was. He thought briefly, then said it was tiring. He went onto explain that he'd had the Wednesday, Thursday and Friday off of school the week before so that he could help to look after his sister's children. I inquired further, intrigued with the fact that a 9 year old was somehow required to provide childcare. He told me that his sister had 3 kids under 5 and had twins on the way.
"If she can't even look after 3 kids, how can she look after 2 more?" he said, with a chuckle.
I laughed along with him, but was now thinking how I was to structure my next few questions.
"How many brothers and sisters do you have?", I questioned.
"Lots", was his response.
"Do you know exactly?"
A shake of the head.
At this stage all the blu tac had been positioned appropriately and we'd checked that everyone had put their names on the back. As Matt was quite tall, I let him help me stick them up on the wall. We'd had a few moments of silence as I processed the information he'd shared in such a short space of time, but it was time for it to be filled and it was up to me to do it.
"Well I hope your mum is feeling better!", I said positively.
"Nah, she's got cancer".
A freight train. A freight train smashed into my chest. I stammered through a pointless and redundant "I'm so sorry to hear that".
I had to ask the next question. I was hesitant, but I already knew so much about this small boy that I just had to.
"Is your dad around to help?"
Just a shake of the head. No words. He didn't look up. Just shook his head.
"Do you see him much?"
"He took me to McDonald's once".
What a kid. In the space of 10 minutes he'd completely altered my perceptions of the students I was teaching. Why would he care at all about a piece of writing, when his mum is home dying? How could he be bothered doing multiplication, when he hasn't seen his dad in years? Why would he bother being responsible at school, when all of his free time requires him to act outside his years?
This was a huge lesson for me. If I had been told that it was going to be a day that changed my perceptions dramatically I would have laughed hysterically (much like the students did for the majority of the lessons). But all of a sudden, his behaviour made sense. We use the term 'attention-seeker' so frequently in the teaching profession - a student that goes out of their way to push buttons and stir the pot. And some do it because they purely enjoy it. But others, simply because it's the only attention they get. It's the only time anyone looks at them. So they poke the bear, they get the reaction, they deliberately get in trouble - knowing that it might mean they have to stay in. And get to talk.
About their weekend.
But now they were all running off some of their unrelenting energy - everyone but Matt. He was staring forlornly out the window and I suspected it was because of a disagreement with a fellow student. The Deputy Head had just left the classroom after briefly chatting with me about how it was all going and I could hear her conversing with Matt about why he was where he was. I couldn't quite make it out but I heard something along the lines of "...wanting to help Mr.B...".
Admittedly, I wasn't over the moon when the Deputy returned with him, asking if there was something that he could help with. He'd been so difficult and so frustrating that the idea of having a conversation with him wasn't all that appealing. But I was about to blu-tac some work up on the walls and he could help with that.
It turned out to be one of the most important interactions I've ever had with a student.
I explained that we didn't need too much of the 'tac' on the sheet of paper (experience has taught me that students always think that you need a big blob otherwise it doesn't work). Then, as it was Monday, I asked him how his weekend was. He thought briefly, then said it was tiring. He went onto explain that he'd had the Wednesday, Thursday and Friday off of school the week before so that he could help to look after his sister's children. I inquired further, intrigued with the fact that a 9 year old was somehow required to provide childcare. He told me that his sister had 3 kids under 5 and had twins on the way.
"If she can't even look after 3 kids, how can she look after 2 more?" he said, with a chuckle.
I laughed along with him, but was now thinking how I was to structure my next few questions.
"How many brothers and sisters do you have?", I questioned.
"Lots", was his response.
"Do you know exactly?"
A shake of the head.
At this stage all the blu tac had been positioned appropriately and we'd checked that everyone had put their names on the back. As Matt was quite tall, I let him help me stick them up on the wall. We'd had a few moments of silence as I processed the information he'd shared in such a short space of time, but it was time for it to be filled and it was up to me to do it.
"Well I hope your mum is feeling better!", I said positively.
"Nah, she's got cancer".
A freight train. A freight train smashed into my chest. I stammered through a pointless and redundant "I'm so sorry to hear that".
I had to ask the next question. I was hesitant, but I already knew so much about this small boy that I just had to.
"Is your dad around to help?"
Just a shake of the head. No words. He didn't look up. Just shook his head.
"Do you see him much?"
"He took me to McDonald's once".
What a kid. In the space of 10 minutes he'd completely altered my perceptions of the students I was teaching. Why would he care at all about a piece of writing, when his mum is home dying? How could he be bothered doing multiplication, when he hasn't seen his dad in years? Why would he bother being responsible at school, when all of his free time requires him to act outside his years?
This was a huge lesson for me. If I had been told that it was going to be a day that changed my perceptions dramatically I would have laughed hysterically (much like the students did for the majority of the lessons). But all of a sudden, his behaviour made sense. We use the term 'attention-seeker' so frequently in the teaching profession - a student that goes out of their way to push buttons and stir the pot. And some do it because they purely enjoy it. But others, simply because it's the only attention they get. It's the only time anyone looks at them. So they poke the bear, they get the reaction, they deliberately get in trouble - knowing that it might mean they have to stay in. And get to talk.
About their weekend.