A couple of episodes from today:
There is a young lady in her final year at school who is often to be found in my teaching room when I pitch up at school. She was often there last year as well. I like teens and teens like oldies who like teens, so we naturally hit it off together.
I was the recipient of a couple of her teen-girl angst outpourings last year. Parents who have guided teen girls through that difficult time will be nodding sagely when I write that teen girls do not muck about when they go in for an outpouring of angst. Buys can do so as well, especially the sensitive ones, but girls really give it full throttle.
She has come to trust me.I asked her today what her plans are for next year. Starting with her and alternating, here is how the subsequent conversation went:
"I want to go to university, but I am not bright enough."
"Yes you are. What do you want to study?" <I only have to look into her eyes and listen to her talk to know that she is perfectly capable of degree-level study>
"Criminal Psychology. Trouble is, I just failed all my Psychology exams last month. I did not do the revision I needed to do."
"I used to teach 'A' level music and so know this: the results you get at 'A' level reflect with total accuracy the amount of effort you put into them. I knew within two weeks of meeting my students for the first time, the grade they were going to achieve. I was rarely wrong."
"I know. I want to do the work. Somehow the weeks are just flying by. Another one starts and I still haven't started revising properly."
A brief interjection into the conversation. There followed a lengthy description of her week - which includes working at paid jobs for 20 hours over the weekend. I thoroughly disapprove of 'A' level students working at paid jobs at all, never mind 20 hours of them. I am not in a position to criticise as I know nothing of this child's home background. She shows no obvious signs of neglect and has the self-confidence of a well-loved child, but who knows? My automatic default instinct when dealing with children, whatever the circumstances is this: what can I do right now to help this child? So I gave here the mantra I do not think many parents will argue with. Not the sane ones, anyhow.
"Sweetheart, for those who love you and are close to you, there is only one thing that you absolutely have to do, and that is turn up at home safe and sound each evening. Everything else you achieve is a bonus. The only thing you can do to cause them serious grief is not turn up at home, safe and sound. They will celebrate whatever else goes right. They will help you deal with whatever goes wrong."
She beamed at me and replied, "Thank you."
"Now go away" I growled. "I have victims coming for abuse loosely disguised as piano lessons any minute now."
She grinned, gathered up her stuff and headed for the door. As she got there I called out, "Sweetheart." She stopped and turned. I continued, "I meant it. There really is only the one thing that you absolutely have to do. Remember that."
Out came the beam again. "I will," she replied and left, but not before I growled at her retreating back, "And do some revision." "Yes sir."
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My first victim was clearly too terrified of The Pencil to turn up, so I was sat twiddling my thumbs. I could have done some piano practise but was not in the mood, so a period of thumb-twiddling felt like a better alternative.
Remember the door is a long way diagonally across and hidden by a small partition, so I am not always aware that someone has come into the room. I happened to be looking when this tiny, bespectacled form appeared, saw me, gulped and fled. "Maybe she has heard of The Pencil," I mused.
A few seconds elapsed. I heard the door open again and this time three tiny, bespectacled forms appeared, nos 2 and 3 giving no 1 moral support.
Not a time for Scowling and Pencil Wielding, so I bestowed upon them the sort of beam that he previous young lady had bestowed upon me. Tiny bespectacled form no 1 gulped again and asked, "Can we practise our drama please?"
I welcomed them in and explained that I would normally be teaching the piano but that my first victim had not turned up. I asked them how long they needed, and that cut into my next lesson, so I said I would take Next Victim along to the practise room (i.e. the Shame of The Black Hole of Calcutta). In they trooped and got on with their business. 7 Y8 girls (12-13) strutting their stuff. It was a joy to watch.
Second Victim was also clearly also far too scared of The Pencil to appear, so I got to watch the whole rehearsal. A bell went and they started to pack up. It occurred to me that we were all wearing glasses.
"Hey guys," I intoned, "do you realise that there are 8 of us in the room and we are all wearing glasses?"
There was a moment of reflection, then one said, "That's weird."
Then one of them brightened considerably and announced, "My uncle calls me 'specky four eyes'. We are the start of the next human species - the 'specky four eyes' species" and off they went to a chorus of, "Thank you sir."
Honestly, the kids at that school are sooooooooooooo gorgeous.
