Encounters with Children part 3

Encounter 3

After school. in stumbled two boys with a teacher, one, again, streaked with tears – P, new in class 5 – and V. He told me that they had fought in the house meeting time and a teacher had separated them, then they had threatened each other, and then another teacher had caught them fighting behind the bus, outside.

First, I did the same thing as with A and B – made them wait, sitting on the chairs. But, after less time, I sat in front of them and asked them to tell me their stories one at a time. I had to explain this to P a couple of times.

While listening to them, I realised again how advanced ‘our’ children are (the children who have grown up in our school). V explained the whole thing to me in sincere, dignified English, understanding already the whole process I was going to take them through, willing to cooperate, leaving the matter in my hands and his mind open. P, a new child, on the other hand (he is probably close in age to class 7), kept sniveling unconvinced-ly. He described the original incident of the argument (they went together to a friend’s house and were playing with an iPod, and one of them hid it in the other’s bag for a joke and they each accused the other of taking it) as full of deceit and subterfuge and conspiracy.

P was a completely different species from V, or any of the others, and I felt my heart sink. What would this boy bring to our children? First, to try to cause trouble through talk of theft and lies, and to continue arguments by threatening, “tumhe dekh lenge,” (“I’ll take care of you later”) and to accost the person outside…it smelled so much of children past, who we could not change, who brought very unwanted things to our school. Listening, I already was imagining conversations with his parents about why he wasn’t suitable here.

Another thing he said which annoyed me was, “ma’am, ap usse puchlijiye,” (“Ma’am, you can ask him” (a witness) which is a common enough thing to say, but he kept saying it. His whole ‘story’ was some kind of presentation of evidence, instead of a recounting of his version of an incident, aimed to make me believe him over V and scold the latter.

I told them (both) severely that in this school, we don’t talk like that; we assume that we trust each other, and if I ask them a question, I don’t want to hear anyone else’s confirmation of what they say. I told them some other things, emphasising “this school” and looking deep into P’s eyes. V just sat there, quietly and seriously. He is usually someone I feel is one of the least of ‘our’ children, but then, I wondered at how much he had learnt, in just two years.

After that, I talked to them about what anger is, how arguments are natural, how the point is to figure out what to do from here. I asked them about their friendship before (casual and superficial) and gave them some options. The one that emerged, through my navigation, was that they would have to put this behind them, forgive each other’s mistakes, and move on without dwelling on this incident any more, because it wasn’t worth the effort or their intelligence to do otherwise. They agreed. I am not sure how much P understood, though I spoke mostly in Hindi.

So, I made up, as I spoke, they should look at each other, shake hands, and apologize, to show to the other that they were ready to move on, and to end the matter.

This they could not do. They were still too bitter, and didn’t trust the other to reciprocate, and just couldn’t look at each other.

I told them to sit and think about it – how they wanted to proceed. I worked on something, then went to the office door because I heard a familiar sound. I, another child, was roaming around carrying a bag and looking for another. He said he was waiting for V, and so were others. Who others? Looking mischievous and a little sheepish, E, B, and A emerged. I asked them about the bus, and they said they hadn’t felt like going on it, and were going to go together on each other’s cycles instead. I crouched on the stoop and they gathered around, leaning on each other. So familiar to me, so trustworthy.

They questioned me about V and P, “Ma’am, kitna samay lagega?” (“Ma’am, how long is this going to take?”) Those irreverent boys, my beloveds.

I went back in and the two in question were sitting on the chairs, looking wretched and glum. Oh, goodness, I hadn’t expected this. Okay, what about – “If it is difficult to talk to each other, I’ll give you paper, and you can write to the other person about how you feel and what you want to do.” I handed it out, explaining again, and they immediately bowed over it. I turned away while they scribbled. When they finished, I took them.

V: “Dear P, I feel angry because you said you don’t like something you lies but you are lying yourself. I don’t have much hope that we will be good friends after this, but I want this discussion to end now. V”

P: “I am sorry can we be good friend?”

Oh, dear, I thought. But handed them back to be read by the other. I told them to write a response. I checked:

V to P: “Yes, if you want to, we can be good friends! ☺ (big smiley face)”

P: “Yes, I want to be your good friend.”

Great! I gave them to the recipients. I turned away for a brief second and then they were standing at my desk, with the peculiar expression of trying to control a smile. I asked, “Ready to go?” They nodded. I told them to look at each other and shake hands. They did, but were too shy to look directly. They sped off, and I heard them calling out to their friends, back and forth.

It was quite amazing to me, to see how well it had worked. They weren’t able to be the first to speak or make a gesture to the other, but writing wasn’t like speaking first, because when you get a letter, the other person has spoken to you. And seeing a “sorry” is enough, I think, to make a child (or even an adult) completely forgive. P probably didn’t understand the whole thing, but got the idea of it. Standing at my desk, they both looked happy in the way that you do when a weight is lifted.

That long time they had spent was completely worth it. I felt very pleased. And gratified that the right step had ‘come’ to me.