Back in the jug again

School started again last Monday. I was dreading the swift transition from freedom and autonomy to the serfdom of employment, and it reminded me of Geoffrey Willans' wry comments on the return to school. The teachers and support staff came in for two days of time-wasting pep talks, the uplifting effects of which which were nullified by the news that our lunch duties, which I have hitherto used to supplement my lowly pay, are now to be unpaid - no, wait, we are to get a 'free' lunch in return. Shocked by this news, I blocked out the drone of the speakers, whose statistics on GCSE results sent the ICT teacher to sleep.

On Wednesday the shiny, squeaky 7s came in. They're taller than average this year. In fact, had the 11s of last year still been with us, they would have had a nasty realisation that their bully-boy behaviour was going to cut no ice with these lanky kids, up whose noses they would have to squint as they demanded their lunch-money/phone/ipod. (Not that that happens at my school, I hasten to add… since the expulsion of Fat-Fabio-who-had-unfeasibly-small-feet, we have had no student-on-student muggings).

The 7s dropped things all round school. 'Miss, I've dropped my pencil.' 'So you have! Pick it up then.' They got confused and lost. 'Everything okay?' I asked of at least five separate kids, whose sweaty brows and panicky faces gave them away. They twitched and fiddled in the effort of concentrating on the two days of talks, from the head, the deputy heads, the head of year, form tutors and eventually teachers.

I relish these early days. The headmaster reminds them that they have the opportunity to leave behind their old persona. Their primary-school self can be ditched in favour of a new, 'good' self. A clean slate, he says. It isn't that easy, of course, as any fule kno. The problems, whether at school or home, are often still present despite the move from little to big school. It takes a while for the dust to settle in a move like this. It's very easy to be kind to them. I don't know what they are really like yet. I have few clues as to which of them is spoilt beyond redemption, which neglected, or charming, confident or lonely. Most of them are sweet, eager to please, to settle in, to be liked, noticed and approved of. I'm hoping the best for all of them. The least likely can turn everything around in the course of the next five to seven years.

I am losing P, and gaining E. Also vision-impaired, there is a sharp contrast between him and my student of last year. But that's for another post.

The Sulks

What do you do when an ASD student gets the teenage sulks? How do you know they are sulking? Depending on patterns of behaviour you might imagine they are sulking at you when actually they are sulking about something that happened at home last weekend. Or sulking about something that happened at school three years ago. Which is not to say all ASD students sulk. But one of mine does, and this behaviour is very difficult to penetrate. Yesterday was a sulky day. It was the third day in a row he grunted at me, instead of using words. I knew we were in trouble. How to 'break the spell'? I asked questions - how's everything at home? how have your lessons been today?, is there a problem?, all resulting in a growl. Finally, I reminded him that 'You are the Captain, I am the…?'. 'Cabin boy?' he answered, in his normal voice. It's something I used to say to him 2 years ago when we started working together. I was touched that he had remembered the response. He was fine after that - I think it perhaps gave him back a sense of being in control of his life - so much of what he has to do at school is irksome to him, and annoying, and ASD students often find it very difficult to accept circumstances they are not comfortable with.

I hand-washed my beautiful quilt last night, and it's hanging on the pulley above the bath to dry. It'll need a bit of darning and maybe a replacement here and there. Meanwhile, this is a picture of a beautiful cotton shirt I bought from eBay. It's French, and from the 40s. The collar, cuffs and pocket trims are a lovely duck-egg blue, and it has been extremely well-made with neat little darts at the waist to shape it, and beautiful button-holes (but no buttons). I had bought it intending to wear it as a light summer jacket over a dress, but when it came I found it was just tiny - child-sized. I considered cutting it up for my sewing projects, but it's so lovely, I think I'll hang on to it and use it to display my brooches. What do you think? Should I be ruthless?