Listen to thisThese kids are playing their parts in a play – but it’s a desperately serious play
Richard was small for his nine years when he came to the children's home. Slightly built, he had an air of innocence and vulnerability which drew strongly protective and maternal responses from the child care workers. He soon became 'Ricky' to everyone, and with his undemanding and affectionate nature, a firm favourite with most of the adults. His ready smile softened the hardest of hearts, and he easily slid into the hug which that smile invariably invited. Many staff would recall that, after working with a rowdy group, settling an argument or coming up against a particularly scratchy child, it was wonderful to bump into little Ricky whose responsive smile warmed up the human landscape. Over the months, staff grew more and more fond of Ricky. It was like having a beautiful painting in otherwise ugly and gloomy surroundings. Child care workers came to use Ricky as a benchmark for how they wished other kids would be. “That Paul!" they would say. “He's so mean with the others. I'm always having to correct him. I wish he was more like Ricky.
Ricky never figured on the list of “problem kids” to be dealt with at staff meetings. With so many other troubled and difficult kids, Ricky was regarded as more of a positive in everyone's lives than a negative. As he got older, Richard grew just like any child. At ten, he looked more like an average ten-year-old, then eleven-year-old .. but to the staff he was still the sweet kid who lit up the corridors with his smile, who provided the respite and reward in the tough environment of child care work. Little Ricky was always there with his winning smile, his prompt return of a hug, his friendly and reassuring greeting ...
A terrible shock it was to everyone, therefore, when the school rang up one day to report that Ricky had gone out of control, had lashed out viciously at another pupil and then sworn at the teacher who intervened before running off from school.
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Dealing with 16-year-old Margaret was a fearsome task. There was no more
prickly girl in the unit. Headstrong, impatient, critical, argumentative
and uncooperative, she made any child care worker think twice before
approaching her. A new child care worker thought she could reach her by
a more affectionate overture: “Hi, Margie. I'm Kate, Kate Fielding.
"I don't much care who you are," spat back Margaret, “but I'm not 'Margie'. My name is Mar-gar-et!"
When asked by a staff member to do something Margaret would not reply; she would simply look ahead of her, sigh to indicate her irritation at being interrupted, and then consider whether or not to comply. Even when she did choose to comply, she would flounce off, her mouth set in resentment and annoyance. At meals, she sat aloof and unbending, regarding all with towering contempt. It took some courage to ask her to pass something at table. If the child care workers had a hard time of it, the other children were even worse placed. The full brunt of her scorn constantly burned into them as she commented sarcastically on everything they said or did. She often hurt them. One girl, Carol, had spent the last few weekends at home with her mother making a frock for a school dance. When she came into the sitting room on the night, proudly wearing the dress, Margaret threw her eyes to the ceiling and proclaimed: “How utterly dowdy! So sleazy! So homemade!" Carol fled in tears.
If ever something had to be done, staff would agree: “Whatever you do, don't ask Margaret!" There was to be a social evening with management committee, fund-raisers and friends of the children's home: “ ... and for goodness sake, don't include Margaret!" Margaret went on to a very unsuccessful marriage, making a husband and two children very unhappy.
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If you tried to picture George (15) in your mind's eye, it would be with
anything from a wry grin to a loud laugh on his face. When we talked, he
seemed to be waiting for every word, like a puppy for a ball, in order
to turn it into a joke. In many ways, when there was so much hurt and
anger around amongst the kids, it was a relief to have this
light-hearted input, for his comments were always applauded with a
giggle from the other children, and spirits were lifted. During any
discussion, the others would constantly look sideways at George, to see
what he would make of what was said. They waited expectantly for the
quick riposte, and enjoyed his witty repartee. In study groups it could
become a nuisance. When a tutor was helping a youngster who was
struggling with some work, it was unhelpful for George to comment “IQ's
are in the lower 30's here tonight"; the laughter disturbed everyone,
and some of the children became reluctant to ask for help. George, of
all people, couldn't really afford the distractions, for he wasn't doing
very well in his school grades. “How is your history coming along?" I
would ask him. “Well, there hasn't been too much of my history," he shot
back. “I'm only fifteen years old!" Loud laughter.
Serious point of question lost. There were life skills groups for boys in George's age group. It was not always easy to run these groups, but George's group seemed to be going well. Certainly there was much laughter and fun. The group leaders had to deal with some sensitive issues for children in care: parents and families, relationships, marriage problems, alcohol abuse, things like that. Often anxieties were raised because these subjects struck close to home for George, probably more than most, with his very troubled home and family background.
But these same subjects only became the source of humorous asides from George. Many discussion points from which he (and the others) would have benefited, were sidelined into howls of laughter. Others in the group applauded George's interjections, and although the group sessions were greatly enjoyed, for many of the children “and certainly for George “they were unhelpful.
If you saw George all by himself, alone in his bed at night, there was no smile on that tormented, lonely face.
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Evaluation
1. Here are three youngsters who have become locked into special 'roles' in the group “locked in both by themselves or by others. Ricky is 'the smiler', Margaret is 'the dragon' and George is 'the clown'. In Ricky's case, and to some extent with George, the staff confirm these roles because they are rewarding and undemanding. By confirming the children in these roles, staff allow them to keep the roles.
2. Taking this further, we see that these three roles (the smiler, the dragon and the clown) are defensive roles: they are saying; “This is the part I am prepared to play, this is the 'face' I choose to present to the world, just don't come any closer."
All three of these children clearly have serious issues in their lives which need attention. By smiling, grouching or clowning, they avoid dealing with these issues, and keep other people (particularly the child care workers) away from them too. Ricky is saying: “You just get on with all that thorny stuff you have to do with the other kids, but take no notice of me, I'm fine, see!" Margaret just breathes fire, and people are happy to keep off her turf. George says: “Let's keep it light, huh? No need for anyone to get serious."
3. These three children have also become stuck at a specific point in their development. They are handling their anxiety in inappropriate ways, and staff are doing nothing to dislodge them from these positions. Ricky needs help to move onward from being a puppy dog who just wags his tail. Staff should be bothered by his facile lack of deeper emotion and his lack of assertiveness. Margaret should not be allowed to tyrannise both staff and children and needs help in learning more co-operative, mutual relationships. George's denial should be interpreted for him, away from the group behind whose indulgence he hides “as perhaps they in turn hide behind his diversions.
4. The danger of 'labels' is illustrated. The staff have come to diminutise Ricky into the pet of the unit, the sweet kid. They forget he is a growing young man. Margaret's cage is clearly labelled “Danger! Keep out", and by accepting this, staff are failing to move her onward to a better perception of reality and responsibility. George is the joker in the pack; he is fun. Good old George!
5. Have you a Ricky, or a Margaret, or a George in your group? Is there a youngster who is saying to you: “This is as far as I'm going. Just leave me alone"? We remember Fritz Redl's view that the most difficult child to work with is the improving child, the child who is tentatively trying out a better way, but is constantly tempted to go back to the 'old' way, the way that 'worked' in the past. Is there someone you know you should be teaching a better way, but you're putting it off because they've wound themselves into a cocoon, into a rigid and infantile way of handling their unhappiness, their mistrust or their anxiety?
Or maybe you're putting it off because you know its going to be tough work? Sooner than you know, these kids will be adults.
