Paul’s struggle to keep his eyes open during class was very real, but I’m used to seeing that. Today his head kept bobbing forward too and he was not quite catching it quickly enough so others started to notice. Since their awareness had made it impossible to ignore, I acknowledged it by saying “was it a late night, Paul?” I had to suppress a smile when he nodded a brief reply in embarrassment. That move was indistinguishable from the one that had drawn attention to him in the first place. Paul’s ongoing need for more rest, and perhaps better sleep, meant he was clearly exhausted.
Sile is over by the window and is known as the flashcard queen. Whenever I need to make new sets I ensure that the full-page sheets and scissors are on the window sill by her desk. No matter how many I leave Sile always gets them done, and she manages to cut along the lines in a way that I never do, not even when I am at my most careful. She loves having something like this to do and swears it helps her concentrate. What she is doing with her hands doesn’t need to have any connection at all to what we are doing in class, but she finds it very calming and I do my best to have something of this kind for her. Sile’s need for a broader range of sensory stimulation is met in my classes by being able to see what is happening outside and perhaps also having a tactile task.
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Ryan wants to study medicine and says he loved the pressure of the Hpat (Health professions admissions test) and the mocks in quick succession. He always wants more to do and as quickly as possible. He is the only reason that I have an optional extra section at the end of worksheets and revision sheets. It doesn’t bother him that I can’t always attend to his extra work, but it really bothers me. Ryan’s need for more learning, greater growth and an ongoing sense of accomplishment is clear, and I worry that I am not doing enough to meet those needs.
I’m also conscious of perhaps falling short when it comes to Catherine. She has recently returned from a significant period of school refusal and is trying to reintegrate, as well as adjust to the news of a diagnosis that she and her family waited a long time for. She verbalises a need for explanations so that she can catch up, but her body language and the fact that she tends to over-participate betray a deeper need: to feel she is contributing to the group again. I recognise the importance of both. The system she and I are part of sends messages that belonging is about being in school and learning, as she learned when her absence record triggered concerns. Now that she is back she is trying to make up for this perceived wrong and needs to do that by contributing. In supporting her as she does her classmates are actually responding to an even more critical need: that of feeling she still merits her place in our group.
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Among other things, schools provide comfort and safety for young people, and so many will have been thrilled to return after the Easter break. Lively communities of youngsters disperse every time the schools close, and even if there are sports clubs and play dates it is unlikely that whole class groups get together very often outside school. When young and one of a class group we learn about being a member of society and can experiment with our roles: the messer, the quiet one, the loud one, the joker, the helper, the forgetful one, the clumsy one, the smart one and so many more.
The surprise and delight that some express in response to an unexpected treat brings a painful realisation of how rare treats are in some young lives
We learn what has been prescribed by the curriculum but we also do lots of other things, and that is where the bigger life lessons are learned. Sharing means taking turns, usually our own but sometimes someone else’s and that leads to what in later life we know as conflict management and mediation. Schools are where so many firsts like this occur, and as teachers we feel a responsibility for those firsts being valuable and only memorable for the right reasons. Refereeing community learning is a big part of a teacher’s job.
The four above are among the almost 200 individual students I teach each week across all year groups. Each brings their own needs to school in the morning and many are met but new ones are also acquired. Being available to them in the varying ways they need me can be very challenging and it’s why work life never really stops for a teacher during the academic year. But it is worth it.
Children who do not experience a lot of kindness at home often experience it in abundance at school. Those who most like “doing jobs” are demonstrating an early desire to have a sense of purpose. The surprise and delight that some express in response to an unexpected treat brings a painful realisation of how rare treats are in some young lives. There is no blame behind any of those observations, simply an acknowledgment that life is hard for some young people. Youngsters demonstrate their needs in a unguarded way, and teachers who are alert to what children communicate will access much more than literacy and numeracy levels. To be able to attend to those needs is a privilege, and it’s one of the many joys that come with being back at school this week.
