Page 68 - She's One Crazy Lady!
P. 68

 I’ve been i“
Another pupil I remember so well was ‘B’, (I have protected his name) who had a difficult background and had learning and behavioural needs and was, sadly, known to be a ‘bit of a bully’. My Mum used to come into school and take groups to teach them how to knit – ‘B’, surprisingly, excelled and took a shine to Mum. He loved it and when he moved on to secondary school, he used to call in every Friday afternoon to show me what he had done and ask if he could have some more
na lot of trouble
Mi”
after day, he calmly sat at next to me, hugging the totem pole – quite content. The children were amazing and accepted this move without question for they all liked him, he was no bother in the classroom and they applauded his artistic skills.
Later, when I was Acting Head at Highfields Primary, I worked alongside a Consultant Head, Des O’Shea, who originated from Australia. Des was a character, and an excellent Head, with a wicked sense of humour. He found out about Trevor and my nickname from Des, became ‘Totem’ – Des even bringing me a model of a totem pole back from a trip to Canada, when he visited me in hospital. More on Des later! He may have laughed a lot but understood the compassion that was there – on both sides.
Trevor’s family moved north. It was sad to see him go, but for years Trevor wrote to me and sent greetings cards and presents to cover all occasions. Trevor would be in his early fifties now and has stopped writing but I hope he is happy.
Trevor escalated my love of teaching children with ‘special needs.’ I loved teaching all children, of course, but children with certain ‘needs’ were, in my mind, genuine and needed extra support. They benefitted from it and hopefully were happier because of it. I became the Special Needs Co-ordinator in all the schools where I taught.
 ss. wool – he was getting quite good. After a couple of terms of doing this,
the visits stopped, which was to be expected, and was healthy. A year or two later, ‘B’ stood at my classroom door; he had shot up and was quite a formidable teenager – a teenager who was crying. I beckoned
him over.
“I’ve let you down,” he cried. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been in a lot of trouble Miss.” “Oh?”
“Yes Miss. I was sent away to a
special school.”
“OK”. I didn’t condemn him, of
course. I let him talk. He said he got involved with an older group of boys and was caught for ‘doing things they shouldn’t have been doing’. He said he wanted to see me to say he was sorry; that apologising was something he had to do.
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