The children in the shadows

There's the child that holds the door open, while their (usually) louder friend goes first; there's the child, whose name is always on the tip of your tongue before calling on them; then there's the quiet and reserved ones, often polite, often trailing just behind their friends. The children in the shadows.

We need to bring these children into the light. They practically do our jobs for us. They pacify, listen, nurture, reason, and offer a hand of support to those that struggle.  They can be found bringing a hurt child in from the playground, checking why a classmate isn't in school today, asking you, the adult, if you had a nice weekend.

I've noticed recently that while we are all busy dealing with the children struggling, the children that have the loudest voices, the children who need extra support and nurture, we are guilty of forgetting about the children that always do the right thing.

They are on time, in the correct uniform, polite, hard working, reflective and have their heads down. There has been recent discussions on social media around rewarding children for attendance. I think there needs to be some thought towards why we can't celebrate these children.

Yes, we praise and lift those that may struggle, we offer pastoral support to families with medical need and family difficulties, in order to ensure they are getting the education they deserve, and we will continue to do so. Ultimately, we have a  whole school vision and goal as leaders, and we have to reward (not even for material gain, in most circumstances) those children that are bringing our vision to life.

We must bring the shadow children, into the light. They should be praised for doing what we have been fighting to achieve. We should sometimes look over the head of the child who is vying for attention and gently check in. A quick hello, a smile and a 'how are you doing today?' is powerful. It reminds us and them, that they matter, that they are noticed and most of all, they are valued as part of our whole community.

As a school, we celebrate our 'good to be green' children. These are pupils that have been consistently 'Green' for an entire term. They aren't boastful, and they aren't large material rewards. Sometimes it's smoothies and board games, sometimes it's a forest school session. However we celebrate, we are chatting about their day, finding out more about them, embracing the stolen moments in a laid-back way.  Just spending time together, and sometimes, time is all they need.

The sound of silence

Today, during the remembrance service, there was silence.

It was a joy to behold.

Having worked as the Head of School for 18 months with the starting point of 'Special Measures', silence was a rarity. In between staff managing low level behaviour (the whispering, the clicking, the rocking, the silly noises, the calling out, and so on) and the teachers filling the air with constant (and relentless) positive  praise, it had become a wall of sound. A place in which silence meant something was wrong. The sharp intake of breath that meant something awful had happened, the split second of fearful calm, before the inevitable storm.

Our team have worked incredibly hard to consistently and calmly implement a robust and simple behaviour plan. The drip, drip, drip of the same routines, the same structure, the same outcomes. Boring? Yes. Repetitive? Yes. Effective? Yes.  Our aim is to make every child feel like an equal, based on mutual respect and fairness. Children that struggled? We provided them the tools and strategies to meet our expectations.

Today, the silence wasn't just a school that was participating in an order of service to remember and respect our soldiers, both past and present. It was a school full of pupils that could finally give respect to themselves and others, willingly.  Pupils that could finally understand that silence isn't just about conformity, but an opportunity to reflect, embrace, consolidate and give space to their own thoughts.