There was a boy in one of my classes, way back when, who scared me shitless. He was quiet; not the good type of quiet. He sat in the back of the class, always. He never participated in any activity. He answer no questions. He wrote nothing down. He sat still or slept. He never moved. He only got up to go to the bathroom, sometimes without permission, or to lunch and at dismissal. He never spoke to me or the other students. He was completely silent. I would sneak looks at him and realise he understood everything; sometimes better than the chatterboxes. But he never spoke. He was silent.
Now, there is nothing wrong with being quiet but have you ever had that sensation of being watched? Had the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? Had a sense of foreboding in a place where are supposed to feel safe? Have you seen the look in the lion's eyes ahs it stalked its prey when you watch Animal Planet? That is the feeling I got from this boy. And every time I looked up from some books, roved my eyes around the classroom, turned back to the class from the board I saw him watching me. I felt his eyes boring into my back all the time. It was uncomfortable. I think he knew I was afraid of him. He could smell my fear. That is what prompted me into action.
It was sacrilegious for a big, big proper teacher to be afraid of one little 15 yr old student. Just plain wrong. So I called him to MY desk one afternoon. The students had a R&T class after my Language class and I was free. So would their classroom. I would rush out of the class as the children left to avoid being in the room with him. I think he noticed that as well so I could see the surprise on his face when I stayed, looked him in the eye and sat down. When the class cleared, sat back and smiled. Guess he said to himself, "Now, let's see what she's going to do." I leaned back and smiled too. Here's the conversation verbatim:
Me: SoandSo, would you like to sit by me a bit?
Him: <getting up immediately> Sure.
Me: Why are you here? At school. Every day.
Him: It's the place to be?
Me: The place to be? What does that mean?
Him: Yes, it's day time. I am 15. School is where I am supposed to be.
Me: But you do nothing. Since you are here maybe you should try to get something out of it.
Him: Why? I don't need anything here.
Me: Really?
Him: Okay. How much money do you make coming here. The classes are noisy, di pickney dem dunce, you have to get up before day. How much do you get for pay?
Me: Okay, since I started this let me finish it. I get $_________.
Him: And you have to work 30 days to get that?
Me: Yes.
Him: Hmmm, I can get that tonight. One job. 45minutes.
He smiled again. Got up. Walked back to his desk and put his head down.
I never bothered him again. He graduated. When he police shot him in the head three years later the community protested police brutality in front of the TV cameras. When the media vans they surreptitiously picked up pieces of his skull that were left behind and brought it up to the school.
"Look here, si SoandSo skull yah. Mi glad di raashole dead. Him di wickid."
The last piece said under their breaths.
Now, there is nothing wrong with being quiet but have you ever had that sensation of being watched? Had the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? Had a sense of foreboding in a place where are supposed to feel safe? Have you seen the look in the lion's eyes ahs it stalked its prey when you watch Animal Planet? That is the feeling I got from this boy. And every time I looked up from some books, roved my eyes around the classroom, turned back to the class from the board I saw him watching me. I felt his eyes boring into my back all the time. It was uncomfortable. I think he knew I was afraid of him. He could smell my fear. That is what prompted me into action.
It was sacrilegious for a big, big proper teacher to be afraid of one little 15 yr old student. Just plain wrong. So I called him to MY desk one afternoon. The students had a R&T class after my Language class and I was free. So would their classroom. I would rush out of the class as the children left to avoid being in the room with him. I think he noticed that as well so I could see the surprise on his face when I stayed, looked him in the eye and sat down. When the class cleared, sat back and smiled. Guess he said to himself, "Now, let's see what she's going to do." I leaned back and smiled too. Here's the conversation verbatim:
Me: SoandSo, would you like to sit by me a bit?
Him: <getting up immediately> Sure.
Me: Why are you here? At school. Every day.
Him: It's the place to be?
Me: The place to be? What does that mean?
Him: Yes, it's day time. I am 15. School is where I am supposed to be.
Me: But you do nothing. Since you are here maybe you should try to get something out of it.
Him: Why? I don't need anything here.
Me: Really?
Him: Okay. How much money do you make coming here. The classes are noisy, di pickney dem dunce, you have to get up before day. How much do you get for pay?
Me: Okay, since I started this let me finish it. I get $_________.
Him: And you have to work 30 days to get that?
Me: Yes.
Him: Hmmm, I can get that tonight. One job. 45minutes.
He smiled again. Got up. Walked back to his desk and put his head down.
I never bothered him again. He graduated. When he police shot him in the head three years later the community protested police brutality in front of the TV cameras. When the media vans they surreptitiously picked up pieces of his skull that were left behind and brought it up to the school.
"Look here, si SoandSo skull yah. Mi glad di raashole dead. Him di wickid."
The last piece said under their breaths.