A
personal account of over 40 years’ experience in the residential
child service in the United Kingdom, based on involvement in the
services as a practitioner and manager.
Names and places have been changed for obvious reasons.
Trust
or Exterminate?
“Exterminate,
exterminate,” chanted Micky as he walked round the corridors
of Bluebell School.
It
was the late 1960s/early ‘70s and Micky was a devotee of the
TV series Dr. Who and a fan of the good Doctor’s sworn enemies
the Daleks. This phrase was their main oft-repeated statement.
Like
many of the children, (aged six -13) at Bluebell, Micky probably
had good reason to feel hostile to people in general, especially
adults, and the Daleks’ chant probably struck a chord with
him.
Stanley,
the Headmaster of Bluebell, believed that only a radical approach
to un-learning all their negative experiences and forming a fresh
outlook on life could heal these children.
Children
needed to go back to the early stages of nurturing. One way of doing
this was through food and drink. The provision of these essentials
was the first basic task of good parents.
At
the end of evening activities, one member of staff would sit in
the dining room at a big table surrounded by chairs. On the table
would be a bread board and several loaves of specially-made wholemeal
bread. There were also tubs of various spreads including peanut
butter, cashew nut butter, soya spread and ordinary butter.
The
children would come in at any time between 7.30 and 8 p.m. prior
to getting ready for bed. They would sit at the table and call out
their order, such as: “a slice of bread with cashew and peanut
butter cut into 4 figures please,” or ”a slice with
butter and peanut butter, cut in half.”
Stanley
believed that this was the opportunity for children to receive food
from a parent figure on demand in a manner they chose and that this
was a helpful experience. The children certainly enjoyed it.
There
was another even more elaborate ritual once the children were in
bed.
Two members of staff would take prepared night time drinks round
to the children.
They
had a choice of milk or fruit juice, hot or cold, in a mug or in
a baby’s bottle, with or without a teat.
Most
new children started with a mug and then soon, once the realised
they would not be mocked, went to a bottle with a teat. When children
wanted to change they had to write a letter to the daily meeting
asking if the meeting agreed to the change.
Some
children chewed holes in the teats over time and this made them
rather prone to spillage if extra care was not taken.
One
night when I was on drinks’ duty, and, being very aware of
the nurture function, I carefully handled the children their cup
or bottle until I got to Sam. My concentration must have gone for
some reason and I whisked over to him his hot bottle of milk, unaware
of the big hole in the top, only to hear him yell and jump from
his bed as the hot milk splattered over him. No nurture that night,
I thought guiltily as I got him a dry top.
Another
strategy Stanley advocated to reduce unnecessary conflict was the
use of a small blackboard and chalk.
For
example, all children had to take their turn at the unpopular task
of helping to dry the dinner dishes. Sometimes through forgetfulness
or rebellion, the child on duty failed to appear. Rather than go
around the school and search out the latecomer and possibly end
up with a defiant confrontation, the member of staff also on duty
would simply write on the blackboard, on a stand in the main corridor:
“Johnny have you forgotten you are on dishes?”
Johnny
would then see it and come in, or if he didn’t appear other
children would say: “Hey Johnny, there’s a message for
you on the board, you’re on dishes.”
Usually
after being told this a few times the latecomer/rebel would give
in and come and do his duties.
There
was a tall oak tree in the middle of the lawn at the front of the
school and some children, usually on a summer’s day, could
be seen perched high up in its branches. They were not wrong doers,
they had a maturity for tree climbing.
It
was recognised that children, no matter what their age, differed
at the rate they became mature and responsible. Some children could
be trusted to own a penknife, or play the piano or climb a tree.
No
child could do any of these and other things automatically. They
had to show by their attitude and behaviour that they could act
responsibly. They would write a note to the school meeting, attended
by all children and adults, ask for a maturity and give reasons
why they considered they were ready for it.
Other
children or adults would then give their opinions about the child’s
readiness for the maturity and vote accordingly.
If,
later, a child who had a maturity, was found abusing it, by, for
example knocking hell out of the piano to everyone else’s
annoyance, they could be reported to the meeting where a vote would
be taken on removing the privilege.
These
were just some of the means that children at Bluebell came to trust
others and take control of their own lives, in a safe and caring
environment. It was a risky regime at times - who would allow children
to carry pen-knives or climb a tall tree these days? But it was
believed that reasonable, if sometimes unusual, risks were justified
if the end result was a more stable child.
To
be continued……
