This happened in an English primary school back in 1986. The witnesseseight-year-old childrennever breathed a word about it, so the story never made the rounds. Even the parents, who probably found out what had transpired, didnt raise a fuss with the teacher. No one did.
I first heard about it from the teacher herself. She was haunted by the memory and the guilt of how harshly she treated a pupil all those years ago.
To be honest, the situation really was unpleasant. Im still not sure how to feel about it.
A young primary school teacher was sent by the council to a small town. She was only twenty-two, really just a girl herself. No real experience, except for her eager determination to prove herself, both professionally and personally.
She actually managed rather well. Her first class was made up of children who had already been through a sort of informal selectionthere was a specialist class in the same yearso their academic results pleased both the parents and the school head. There werent any major discipline problems either.
Of course, among a class of thirty-five, there are always a few who will test the teachers patience. Miss Victoria Greenlets call her thathad her share too. But she found common ground with most of them, stirring their interest and getting them involved in school life. All except for one.
Jack was from a broken home. His mother hardly paid him any attention; as long as he was fed, that was enough. So he grew up wild, not keen on proper interaction, neither with other children nor adults.
Miss Green did everything she could to connect with Jack, but nothing worked. He did everything out of spite. Sometimes he would crawl under his desk for the whole lesson, making faces at the other children, which had the whole class in stitches. He cursed, loudly and unashamedly, using words the teachers hoped theyd never hear in their classroom. He called his classmates names, making some of the girls cry, and even took to sneaking cigarettes in the schoolyardsomething even the oldest pupils never dared.
When anyone reprimanded him, Jack would defiantly ask, So what are you going to do about it?
But the worst thing he did was spit.
There wasnt a single child in class who hadnt been spat on by him at least once.
He did it with visible relish: collecting a gob of spit and firing it at his next victim.
It was, in a word, disgusting.
Miss Green tried everything: talking to him, shaming him, explaining why it was wrong, but nothing worked. He only spat more, as if encouraged by her disapproval.
Finally, she appealed to his mother. She rarely sought parents help, but this time she was out of options.
Please, have a word with your son, she pleaded, Hes already spat on everyone in class and I sense its only a matter of time before he turns on me.
His mother promised to help and apparently gave him a proper telling offpossibly more than that. Jack came in the next day battered and blue, his eyes filled with a hatred that could burn.
That very day, he broadened his campaign: spitting in the corridor at break time, sometimes secretly, sometimes brazenly. It seemed he delighted in tormenting the others, laughing when he saw their faces contorted with disgust or crying helplessly. Why he spat at older pupils, no one could fathom. Small and scrawny as he was, he seemed to have no sense of self-preservation.
The older kids caught him a few times, gave him a good pasting, warned him to stop, and let him go. But hed get away and shout the worst insults back at them from a safe distance.
In short, Jack had pushed everyones patience to the limit. The breaking point came when he spat right on the head of the beloved geography teacherMiss Jenkinsone day as she passed under the stairs, not realising the culprit was lurking above. The older pupils saw it and, after telling Miss Jenkins, dealt with Jack so thoroughly that he had to be taken to the nurses office.
Miss Green, this is bound to end badly one day, the elderly nurse told her, when the troublemaker had scampered back to class.
Ive tried everything. Nothing gets through to him. If anything, he gets even more defiant.
Well, children like him, they only understand one sort of lesson, mused the nurse.
So what am I meant to dospit back at him? snapped the teacher, suddenly angry with everyone.
Maybe the nurse trailed off.
That odd suggestion stuck with Miss Green. For a few days after, Jack was quiet. Then he slipped right back into his old ways.
One afternoon, it was a girls birthday in the class. She brought in chocolates for everyone. Jack waited until she finished, marched straight up and spat in her face. She burst into tears, and Jack looked straight at Miss Green, as if daring her: So what are you going to do?
This was the final straw for Miss Green.
She called him to the front of the class, quietly locked the door, and addressed the pupils, her tone solemn and cold.
Stand up if Jack has ever spat on you, she said.
Nearly everyone in the class stood.
Weve told him time and again that what hes doing is awful. But he doesnt understand. Maybe he never will unless hes shown how it feels. Today, Im going to allow every one of you to do something very unkind. Good people never behave this way. But I cant see any other way forward. Each of you will come forward and spit on Jack once. Perhaps then, hell grasp just how revolting this is.
Led by her, the pupils quietly advanced. Jack lunged for the door, forgetting it was locked. In the end, his classmates cornered him by the sink and methodically carried out Miss Greens decree. Some did it with a sense of justice, others apologetically. Almost all participated. No one laughed, no one spoke.
The only sound was Jacks whimpering.
When all was done and everyone returned to their seats, he sat crumpled on the floor, arms round his head, his face streaked with tears and spit.
Miss Green let the silence stretch, her gaze moving over the class.
I dont know about you, she said at last, but Im ashamed. For myself, for him, for all of us.
The children dropped their eyes.
Remember this day, she continued quietly, and never again hurt anyone, with your words or actions. You see now how far it can go.
She opened the door; Jack stumbled out into the corridor.
I shouldnt have to tell you that this should be our secret, she finished, Im sure you understand without me saying so. Youre dismissed.
Jack didnt come back that day. Nor the next.
Miss Green went to see him at home. She braced herself for a confrontation with his mother, but the woman clearly had no idea what had happened.
Hes not himself, she apologised. Just sits in his room, wont go to school.
Would you mind if I tried speaking to him? asked Miss Green.
She was let in. Jack was buried under his covers.
I know youre upset, she said gently, putting a hand on his head. You must be afraid everyone will mock you now.
He stayed silent.
But youre not a coward, are you? Maybe someone will laugh for a bit, but youll survive.
Still nothing.
Would you rather move to another class? she pressed on. Perhaps the children there might enjoy it if you spit at them.
That did it. Jack shot out from under his blanket, eyes wild.
I swear Ill never spit again! he cried out hoarsely, then in a small voice: Dont make me leave
Alright then. The children are only worried that you havent been at school.
He looked down and didnt reply.
Miss Green ruffled his hair.
See you tomorrow, then.
Mmhmm. See you tomorrow
When Jack finally returned, everyone acted as if nothing had happened.
No one ever spat in that class again.
As the years went on, everyone remarked how united that class was. Its as if theyre bound by something, some said. Or maybe they all share a responsible secret, others joked, not realising how close they were to the truth.
After moving to another city, Miss Green never saw that school again, but the memory of what happened stayed with her for years. She worried she might have traumatised the children. Eventually, after telling me this story, I urged her to find out what happened to Jack.
She did.
It turned out Jacks mother remarried an army veteran when Jack was in Year 6. The stepfather pushed Jack to apply for cadet college, helped him get in. Now, Jack is in his forties, serving as an officer. All those years, he stayed in touch with many classmates, even visiting his hometown from time to time.
At the school reunions, that incident is never mentioned, not even as a joke. Perhaps they really have forgotten.
Reflecting on all this as I jot it down, I realise the lesson Ive learned: sometimes, even if a solution is effective, it can weigh on us for a lifetime. There is no simple path in teaching or in life. Kindness and understanding should always be our first resort, even when it feels impossible.
