Breaking the Law

Knock. Knock.

Two Year 11 girls are standing at my door. One is white, a little pale, and spotty. The other is dark black with her hair combed back tightly on her head. Frustrated, the white girl, is on the brink of tears. They are both from lower middle class backgrounds, good girls, who are neither cabbages, nor stars. They'll probably end up with a bunch of Bs and Cs at GCSE.

'Miss, we need to speak with you.' Bolder takes Frustrated's arm and pulls her into my office.

'Of course girls. Have a seat.'

They sit down and I look at Bolder. 'What's happened?'

'Well Miss, Frustrated ran out of Science. She couldn't take it anymore. So she ran out, and I ran after her to make sure she was ok.'

Frustrated starts to cry. 'I just can't take it anymore Miss. It isn't fair. They shout and scream at the teacher all of the time and I can't hear myself think!'

I frown. 'Who shouts? When? Whose lesson have you come out of?'

As Frustrated sobs quietly, Bolder explains that in all three of their Science lessons: Biology, Chemistry and Physics, there are 3 boys who cause havoc in their lessons. She explains that they are so loud that poor Frustrated cannot learn. Somehow Bolder manages to block them out. They shout at all three of their teachers and they laugh at, and mock the rest of the class.

'What do the teachers do when they shout?' I ask.

Frustrated jumps in. 'They don't do anything! Miss X waits until they stop. But that takes forever. And Miss Y keeps on teaching while they yell. Miss Z shouts back at them and then they get into a slanging match. And all the while, we aren't learning anything!'

Bolder sighs. 'Frustrated is really upset. She doesn't think it's fair.'

Damn right it isn't fair. I squirm in my seat. 'Have you spoken to your teachers about it?'

'Yes!' Frustrated shouts. 'I've asked if I can work in the library but they say that isn't allowed. I'm not going back there Miss. I just can't. We have our GCSE exams only weeks away and they act like we're in primary school! They don't care what they get. But I do. Why do I have to put up with this?'

What do I say to that? Why does she have to put with this? What am I meant to do? We cannot exclude them. We cannot hit them. Even detentions are made difficult to administer and staying for an hour after school for many of these kids is no big deal. I cannot even remove these boys from her lesson for a long period of time. Their parents will complain, and they will have the law on their side.

Frustrated sobs and sobs, her head on the table, as Bolder rubs her back. I watch on in horror. Frustrated looks up at me, her weary, tear-filled eyes blinking with hope. Hope, that I might bring her relief, hope that I might give her the opportunity to learn at this crucial point in her school career.

How do I tell her that while I am outraged by her situation, that the people in positions of power in this country are not moved by her? They feel it is more important to protect the education of these boys who themselves care not about their schooling. How do you stare a girl like that in the face and tell her that her country doesn't give a damn?

I mentally count the number of weeks before Year 11 leave. I ask Frustrated when she has her Science lessons. And I tell her that I'll be pulling those boys out of their lessons and keeping them with me if they step out of line again. I figure by the time the parents find out what I've done, it'll be too late for them to do anything about it.

I wonder what my fellow bloggers who accuse me of being burnt out would say of this one? I wonder if they would be able to look Frustrated in the face and tell her that her life really isn't worth that much? I, for one, cannot do it. And so instead, I do what I believe to be right. That's the only way to do what's right in schools these days. You have to break the law.