Listen to thisWilfred was an under-sized and timid boy, overindulged by his parents, though it was doubtful how much real affection there was in the family. At his boarding school, he tended to be out of things, even a bit unpopular. When Andy started to go around with him, everyone said, “He only wants to have a share of Wilfred's parcels from home." Andy was a boy very rejected by his father and step-mother, who also had difficulty in getting on with other children, but in his case it was because they felt he was rather a ruthless child who used them for his own ends. By his self-assertion, he had gained a dominating position among the others of his own age, but it was based on their fear rather than any popularity. When he took Wilfred as a friend, the others did not dare tease Wilfred any more. Andy encouraged him to join in football games, and though he was awkward and unskillful, there was something to admire in his determination to play hard and not let his new friend down. Privately, he confided to Andy his wish to succeed at the things that other boys admired, and so be a bit better liked. Andy could understand this through his own problem in gaining acceptance, and he determined to help fight this battle with Wilfred. It meant a lot to Wilfred to be singled out by the boy whom everyone else held in awe, and in his effort to live up to this friendship, he himself became more self-reliant. When their partnership faded out (after a surprisingly long time) he could stand much better on his own feet. And Andy admitted quite a time later that “At first I teamed up with him mainly for the sweets he was always getting. But, you know, there was something else. I think it was good for me to look after someone else for a bit, and help him to get a bit tougher. I really got to like him, you know."
Bryan was in a real temper one morning. It started when he arrived late for breakfast (for a perfectly good reason) and found that someone had forgotten to keep his breakfast warm for him. Instead his food had been cooling in his place, and someone appeared to have removed some of it. He crossly demanded some more, but there just was not any. He picked up the plate and threw it on the floor; somehow he did not break the plate. Then he walked out “right through the mess. The boy who got up without a word and went after him was one who himself found frustration almost unbearable, who still frequently created similar scenes. The staff never knew what he said to him, or how he managed to get round the cook, but a few minutes later he brought Bryan in smiling, with a plate of toasted sandwiches, helped him to mop the floor and sat down with him; everything was peaceful.
Stephen was a very restless newcomer, always in scrapes. Simon was a much older boy, very quiet and gentle, but sure of himself. One of Stephen's scrapes led to quite a lot of damage, which he had to repair, but it was obvious that he would not have the staying power to do half of it without continuous support. Simon was asked if he could be with him. He had one of the most trying afternoons of his life. Stephen tried every method from pleading through arguing and crying to physical struggles in order to make his escape. Simon, quietly, firmly, persistently, kept him to it. Progress was slow, but he would not let Stephen turn to anything else. But as the time wore on the strain on his patience became greater. At length Stephen, misled by his refusal to be provoked, hit out and really hurt him. It was too much for a boy of fifteen. Simon kicked him, just once, in the same quiet way he had behaved all afternoon. Stephen burst into noisy tears, but the battle was over. It was perhaps a worthwhile experience for both of them, but only if one takes the long patience and the final indignation together as one thing.
Paddy’s father became very ill, and remained so for the whole of one term. Grown-ups were very concerned, but they felt their help was not all he needed. He could not confide easily. So they decided to tell Henry about it. Henry was not quite certain what was expected of him, but he was willing to look after Paddy. The staff were able to tell him when Paddy was getting a letter, and he soon noticed how upset Paddy always was at these times, and persuaded him to share a little of his worries. Henry became very involved in this, and would come out with criticisms of some feature of hospital life, or some aunt of Paddy’s who would write foreboding letters. Apart from this, he did not give away Paddy’s confidence, but he gave the adults hints on how things were going and how Paddy was reacting to it. The interesting part was that Henry’s mother had died when he was a little younger than Paddy now was, and he was able to involve his feelings much more in Paddy’s situation than he had at the time of his mother’s death, when he pushed the fact away from his thoughts and hardly appeared to register it. The second experience helped him towards coming to terms with the earlier one, which had been too much for him to cope with.
Most of us looking back to our schooldays can remember other children whose positive influence on us (at the same time perhaps as ours on them) was as great as that of most adults. Piaget and others have suggested that the rules and loyalties of the “gang" stage from seven or so to thirteen play a decisive part in whether the child will find it easy to adjust to the demands of adult society. The friendship of a contemporary may offer stimulus, or reassurance, of a kind which the child can hardly ever obtain from adults; not that adults are necessarily inadequate, but their companionship is something different. Where children have been deprived of normal family affection in their early years, we find that their capacity to make friends with one another is somehow impaired, as it was with Wilfred and Andy. This is because of their urge always to receive, not to give. But the capacity to give is there, as one may see from countless examples like those mentioned above. When a boy like Andy or Henry gives, he finds that it does not rob him of something as he feared, but actually enriches him. Even so, these partnerships are usually transient affairs; such children lack the good basic experiences which would help them to manage the challenge and the difficulties of any friendship for long. It is the skill of the adult, to be outlined in the next section, which helps the deprived or disturbed child over this, often the biggest hurdle of all. But the help and companionship of another child, even if it is short-lived, draws both of them out of isolation for a while and makes them less self-centred. They become thoughtful about one another’s behaviour. And after the partnership is over, as we have seen – it sometimes has effects which can only be called therapeutic for one or both.
Why then is there a tendency in some circles to regard children's pairing up as mainly negative? Partly this springs from the tendency of children with similar problems – particularly the rather inadequate delinquents – to come together, not in friendship but to reinforce one another’s urges. Sometimes this takes a rather different form when one youngster uses another, or a group of others, to carry out his schemes, as then he feels safer. In the context of the whole community life, the others can see that these groupings from which so much trouble arises are a liability to them all. If the reaction of these other children, modeled on tolerant but firm adult attitudes which they experience at the same time, is not punitive and aggressive but constructive and concerned, this can be an experience which enriches everyone, as in the example of Oscar. But another reason for adult suspicion of children's friendships may be that the adults have themselves created a barrier between adult and child, as a result of which they cannot see clearly the very positive influence one child may have on another. Of course children can have a bad effect on each other sometimes, even to the point of cruelty. But we must regard this whole area of inter-child relations as one where our influence and example is at work, reinforcing and developing what is positive, to draw the children out of their isolation, and giving them the very valuable experience of being cared for and caring for and understanding one another.
Oscar was another child who was always in trouble. He appeared to be unable to calculate even the immediate results of what he was doing, and so he left behind him a trail of things to be put right, and was a ready tool for a few others. In the end his scrapes made him very unpopular with the other children, because of the anxiety they caused. He began too to get the blame for things he had not done, because he was an obvious scapegoat. One day he was sent out of a meeting of the school to get on with the many damaged things he had to repair, and the leading adults took the opportunity to ask “Are we actually being fair to him? We all know that he is a boy who can’t manage to see what he is letting himself in for. But instead of helping him to be a bit more steady and thoughtful, we let him get into all these scrapes, and then we expect him to do more than he can to make up for it. And we become irritated with him in the process."
"But you can’t expect us to let him off all these things," said the boys, “Otherwise he’ll never stop causing trouble." “What can we do then?" “We might give him a hand in the things he has to do. Then he won’t feel he’s really been let off, but he will feel we boys are behind him and not against him." “Go on, then." A group of boys got up at once and went out to lend a hand. For Oscar, as was later seen beyond doubt, this was the end a period of despair, and the beginning of a time of development.
These friendships of emotionally disturbed and deprived children show an amazing tolerance of one another’s symptoms. Moreover though we do not know why the child chooses a particular symptom as his distress signal, we can observe that his friend will not follow suit (unless it was already present in him too); he may tolerate it, try gently to help, or if he finds it too much, he draws back from the friendship. Very fastidious boys have maintained friendships with soilers, and boys who were afraid to get into any sort of trouble have loyally stood by others who constantly needed rescuing from situations they created. The group too, as in the story of Oscar, and the children's meeting described earlier, can be most concerned and helpful for one of their members when they sense that the whole setting has the aim of helping them all and treating the difficulties of one as the concern of all. This of course stems from what they observe in the adults in the first place. In the residential setting they have an opportunity to observe and share in something that is lacking in many homes: a genuine tolerance and care for those who are “different", unlucky and rejected. When a near-psychotic little boy was admitted to Shotton Hall, the other children found it a disturbing experience. They thought he was “mad", and so they felt that perhaps they too were regarded as mad. But after observing how the adults saw his problems as the difficulties of a real person, which they could do something about, they too were ready to help him a great deal, by looking after him, helping him take care of himself, and recalling him to the everyday world from his fantasies, which at first they had found so frightening. If a similar approach towards the unfortunate was passed on to the children in every school, the community would finally be ready for the concept of “community care" of the delinquents, the outcasts, and the physically and mentally ill. A former head teacher of our village school, Tony Cartright whose early death was a great loss, was once looking forward to receiving a spastic child into his school, and we were discussing the other children's possible reactions. He said “I regard this as the test of all I’ve tried to do in this school in the last few years."
This feature: Lennhoff, F.G. (1968) Learning to Live: A sketch-book for the residential worker with children. Harmer Hill: Shotton Hall Publications, pp.D4-D7
