Now it seems, Jack's fighting the whole world
I didn't get to see Jack's teacher. I arrived early so I could be first at the door but the woman from the school office beat me to it. She had obviously been looking out for me and called me over, using that voice that fills every parent with dread.
She was trying to be impartial and detached about the whole thing but you could see she was struggling not to let me have her true take on things. I was wondering what on earth was going on. I soon found out.
Sitting in the corner of her office was Jack. His uniform was covered in mud and he was holding an ice pack to one eye.
I have seen quite a few playground scraps in my time but this must have been the real thing. Worse still was the fact that Jack doesn't usually settle his problems by fighting; he is far more likely to go off and brood about stuff than try and sort it out with his fists.
Mrs. Cooper, the office lady, suggested I take Jack straight home and then come back the next day to talk to the Headteacher. I was too shocked to argue. I just gathered Jack up and put him in the car, then went back to get Emily.
Jack wouldn't talk on the way home, even when Emily kept on asking him why he was covered in mud and had a sore eye. I tried to distract her but, like most 5-year olds, when she wants to know something she goes on and on. Luckily I had put Jack in the front seat; if they had been next to each other I think there would have been more bloodshed.
When we got home Jack went straight to his room and Emily wanted to know what was happening. I told her that Jack must have fallen out with someone and that she shouldn't worry because I would sort it out. She obviously wanted to believe me but was finding it very hard. She took the safe option of watching television and let me go off to talk to Jack.
At first he wouldn't even speak to me, let alone open the door. I assured him I wasn't going to get cross, I was just worried about him and wanted to help him if I could. After some persuading he let me come in.
He was such a sorry sight. He was still in his muddy clothes and was just slumped on the floor, leaning against his bed and looking so miserable. I sat down next to him and pulled him close. I thought he was going to fight against having a cuddle but he was obviously tired of trying to cope; he just clung to me and sobbed his heart out.
I soothed and stroked his hair, talking all sorts of nonsense til the tears finally stopped. When he could actually talk properly, rather than just sobbing and choking, he told me what had happened.
It seems that Adam had finally got fed up with Jack being so grumpy and not talking to him and had gone off to spend his lunchtime with some other kids. Jack had wanted to talk to him so much that he had gone to find him. Adam didn't feel like being mates and wanted to carry on his game of football. Jack got cross and pulled at his jumper. The other boys took exception to this and shoved Jack away. Jack got even crosser and thumped the nearest boy. He fell over in the mud and another boy leapt on Jack. He went down and so it progressed.
When I felt it was the right time I asked Jack what it was that had been making him so unhappy. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer but wanted to hear Jack's version. As I suspected, he was so miserable at the thought of not being a "wanted" child, of being a "mistake", of not being the same as his brother and sisters.
What do you say to a child who is doubting something so basic as his existence and his part in his family? I tried everything I could think of: every happy memory, every birthday and Christmas, every holiday and special event in his life that we had shared. It was no good. He was too deep in his misery and just couldn't be comforted. Finally he asked to be on his own and reluctantly I left him to it.
I made that favourite tea I had planned and somehow we got through the evening. He ate his food but I doubt if he even noticed what it was. He watched television but didn't take it in. He went to bed without any argument and couldn't even be bothered to read. He just put his light out and rolled over. It was very, very sad.
She was trying to be impartial and detached about the whole thing but you could see she was struggling not to let me have her true take on things. I was wondering what on earth was going on. I soon found out.
Sitting in the corner of her office was Jack. His uniform was covered in mud and he was holding an ice pack to one eye.
I have seen quite a few playground scraps in my time but this must have been the real thing. Worse still was the fact that Jack doesn't usually settle his problems by fighting; he is far more likely to go off and brood about stuff than try and sort it out with his fists.
Mrs. Cooper, the office lady, suggested I take Jack straight home and then come back the next day to talk to the Headteacher. I was too shocked to argue. I just gathered Jack up and put him in the car, then went back to get Emily.
Jack wouldn't talk on the way home, even when Emily kept on asking him why he was covered in mud and had a sore eye. I tried to distract her but, like most 5-year olds, when she wants to know something she goes on and on. Luckily I had put Jack in the front seat; if they had been next to each other I think there would have been more bloodshed.
When we got home Jack went straight to his room and Emily wanted to know what was happening. I told her that Jack must have fallen out with someone and that she shouldn't worry because I would sort it out. She obviously wanted to believe me but was finding it very hard. She took the safe option of watching television and let me go off to talk to Jack.
At first he wouldn't even speak to me, let alone open the door. I assured him I wasn't going to get cross, I was just worried about him and wanted to help him if I could. After some persuading he let me come in.
He was such a sorry sight. He was still in his muddy clothes and was just slumped on the floor, leaning against his bed and looking so miserable. I sat down next to him and pulled him close. I thought he was going to fight against having a cuddle but he was obviously tired of trying to cope; he just clung to me and sobbed his heart out.
I soothed and stroked his hair, talking all sorts of nonsense til the tears finally stopped. When he could actually talk properly, rather than just sobbing and choking, he told me what had happened.
It seems that Adam had finally got fed up with Jack being so grumpy and not talking to him and had gone off to spend his lunchtime with some other kids. Jack had wanted to talk to him so much that he had gone to find him. Adam didn't feel like being mates and wanted to carry on his game of football. Jack got cross and pulled at his jumper. The other boys took exception to this and shoved Jack away. Jack got even crosser and thumped the nearest boy. He fell over in the mud and another boy leapt on Jack. He went down and so it progressed.
When I felt it was the right time I asked Jack what it was that had been making him so unhappy. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer but wanted to hear Jack's version. As I suspected, he was so miserable at the thought of not being a "wanted" child, of being a "mistake", of not being the same as his brother and sisters.
What do you say to a child who is doubting something so basic as his existence and his part in his family? I tried everything I could think of: every happy memory, every birthday and Christmas, every holiday and special event in his life that we had shared. It was no good. He was too deep in his misery and just couldn't be comforted. Finally he asked to be on his own and reluctantly I left him to it.
I made that favourite tea I had planned and somehow we got through the evening. He ate his food but I doubt if he even noticed what it was. He watched television but didn't take it in. He went to bed without any argument and couldn't even be bothered to read. He just put his light out and rolled over. It was very, very sad.
posted by Lisa Warner @ 1:50 PM
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