SCANDAL ON THE PLAYGROUND: A kid in my class, the one who’s a loner, a quiet, struggling, little boy reacts in anger when kids come up to play with him. He tells them they can’t play with him, to leave, he’s not interested. When they refuse to leave, he flings an ice cream scooper over the fence, hitting a parked car on the other side. (It was a real, metal, ice cream scooper that’s used as a toy on the playground). The kids immediately nark him out–mainly because they want the scooper back. A resident of the nearby apartment complex finds the scooper resting next to his car and hands it back to me over the fence.
The tough part was seeking the kid out after the event, because of course he fled the scene. This is a boy who I want so badly to feel successful, to feel accomplished and liked. The last thing I want to do is discipline him, squash him down. Of course, he refused to come over when I called him, “NO, no!” and than he relented, but wouldn’t look me in the eye during our conversation. Other kids kept coming up to us, and I kept shooing them away–”this is between him and I.” I was floundering, looking for words to use that would make him understand, but being in trouble is exactly what it is: trouble…and no one likes that. I can’t make him like me while I’m explaining how he needs to make safe choices on the playground. He’s very worked up and angry because he’s in trouble. “That’s what I do when I’m mad! I throw things!” He tells me. He sits in the tall grasses, by himself, hiding from the world for the rest of recess. Later he and I talk again, and he admits that maybe he could have just dropped the scooper instead of chucking it over the fence. For the next week he has to tell me how he’s going to be safe on the playground before he goes outside.