Triumph Over Adversity 3-in-1 Collection. Casey Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ the following Monday morning that winter was very much on its way. We were now well into October and not only were the mornings getting darker, but the temperature had taken a nose-dive as well. I made a mental note to ask Mike to reset the timer on the heating and hot water as I shivered in the bedroom after my necessarily brief shower; brief because of the lack of hot water, rather than because I was in a hurry. With the meeting with the clinician scheduled, I had the rare luxury of time, as my fellow behaviour manager, Jim Dawson, would be taking the class for the morning in my place.

      Though we shared a job title, our roles were very different. Neither of us knew it at the time, but there had originally been just the one post up for grabs, so we’d actually started out as competitors. But after we’d both given presentations on how best we thought behaviour could be improved and emotional literacy fostered, it seemed the school had something of a rethink. Seeing so much merit in incorporating our different ideas and approaches, they’d decided to create two jobs and, though it would stretch the budget, employ both of us and let us divide the role as the pair of us saw fit. They also put at our disposal the services the school’s TAs and learning support staff.

      So that’s what we’d done, divvying thing up according to our own ‘skill-sets’ (to use the jargon) so that I ran the Unit, while Jim’s role was more peripatetic: he could often be found pounding the mean streets of the school corridors, chasing after some errant or absconding child or other. In the main, though, he was classroom-based, drafted in as and where needed. If a teacher was having problems with a particularly disruptive pupil, Jim was the go-to guy to form a cunning plan to contain the chaos.

      This morning, however, Jim was going to contain any chaos that might break out with my little lot, ably assisted by Kelly. All I needed to do was set things up for that morning’s activities, and though I knew that there wasn’t that much need for me to organise every tiny detail, I was far too much the control freak not to do so.

      And it seemed I wasn’t the only one keen to get a march on the day. As I walked in through the reception doors the first people I clapped eyes on were Henry and little Ben sitting quietly on two of the black seating cubes that were normally reserved for visitors and parents.

      ‘Good morning, boys,’ I said, eyeing them curiously. ‘Now, it’s far too early in the day for you both to be in trouble. So, let me see, are you waiting for me?’

      They both jumped up and Henry grinned at me.

      ‘Yes, we were,’ he said, ‘weren’t we, Ben?’

      Ben nodded. ‘Just so you know we’ll keep an eye on things for you. You know, till you get back after dinner … you will be back after dinner, Miss, won’t you?’

      I was quite sure that was the most Ben had so far said to me in one go, without prompting. Which was very pleasing. I’d not personally found him that challenging so far but he was a boy whose reputation for causing trouble among his peers definitely preceded him.

      I was also pleased that these two were clearly forming some sort of bond, and I made a mental note to check if they shared a route to school, since this wasn’t the first time they seemed to have arrived in school together.

      ‘Yes, I will,’ I told him. ‘And thank you so much for reassuring me. It always helps to know there will be a few people who’ll help things run smoothly.’

      ‘And we’ll keep an eye on Imogen for you, Miss,’ Henry added. ‘And I won’t get into nothing with Shona, neither. Just in case you were wondering, that’s all.’

      ‘Well, that’s good to know as well, Henry,’ I said, trying to suppress a laugh as I ruffled the hair of first the taller and then the shorter of the boys’ heads. ‘I can go off to my meeting without worrying now, can’t I? Thank you both.’ I glanced at the big clock on the wall. ‘But, if I’m not mistaken, the bell is going to go at any minute, so if the two of you are going to be my undercover helpers you’d better scoot off. You won’t be able to help me if Mr Dawson sends you out for being late, will you?’

      They scooted off and I headed off to the staffroom for a coffee. I had 20 minutes to spare and I intended to make the most of them. The staffroom was heaving, as it always was at that time of the morning: everyone dashing around, collecting internal mail from their pigeon holes, grabbing paperwork, scribbling last-minute notes, marking last-minute books – all of them trying to cram a quart’s worth of organising into a pint-pot, before the ringing of the dreaded bell. It didn’t seem to matter how passionate any of us felt about our jobs – when your day was dictated by the tyranny of that buzzer, your response was exactly like that of one of Pavlov’s dogs; it meant ‘Showtime – you’d better be ready!’

      The room cleared as if by magic moments later, leaving me with a steaming mug of instant and an upbeat frame of mind. It was the little things that brought on that happy mindset, and this was one such – the simple matter of Henry and Ben’s thoughtfulness was enough to lift my day.

      Despite their well-documented penchant for disruption and violent outbursts, I had a soft spot for both of these boys. Which was probably part of my job spec – being keen to unearth the positive in a difficult child was pretty much essential – but it was still pleasing to be feeling it, rather than just doing it.

      Both boys lived chaotic lives and both had huge self-esteem issues, and I was particularly pleased to see Ben, who I was only just getting to know, showing potential for having more productive relationships with his peers.

      I tried to imagine what it must be like to be him. According to his notes, it was his birth that had precipitated his mother’s death. She’d been a non-attender at her antenatal clinics and had suffered from undiagnosed pre-eclampsia, which, tragically, was caught too late and resulted in her death. This left her newborn child to be taken home by his shocked and grieving father – the only child of a man who hadn’t the first clue how to raise one.

      But with no other family in the area, it seemed Ben’s dad lacked either a choice in the matter or much support and, from what Gary Clark had told me, had taken to drinking too, in recent years, and when drunk would regularly point out to his frightened, bewildered son that if it hadn’t been for him his mother would still be alive.

      What a burden for a child to carry. No wonder poor Ben was angry all the time.

      It was Imogen who was bubbling to the surface of my mind again as I walked the short distance between the staff-room and Gary’s office. Imogen had actually started to say something to me on Friday, something my instinct told me might be important. I was therefore itching to see what the specialist had to say and what kind of strategies he might be able to suggest to help me coax her to say something more.

      Mr Gregory was an experienced speech and language therapist with a special interest in selective mutism, and I was pleased to see he didn’t look too scary. It was silly, and I always berated myself for it, but without a string of letters after my name I had always felt a little intimidated when faced with suited and booted professionals. I was confident in my abilities, I worked hard, and knew I was good enough to justify my position – I just couldn’t get past the feeling that I didn’t have the credentials to prove it, I supposed. Not a chip on the shoulder – I had nothing but respect for my colleagues; just that nagging voice – that women in particular are so good at – that I was lucky to count myself as one of their number, despite Mike endlessly telling me not to be so daft.

      But there was nothing to fear here, and I felt immediately at ease. He was a genial man in what I guessed was his early sixties, and straight away I realised the meeting wouldn’t be as formal as I’d thought.

      ‘You can put those away,’ he said, chuckling, СКАЧАТЬ