must be something you can do to turn this situation round. Scarlett lives next door to us and that makes the whole matter much worse.’
We sat in an empty classroom decorated with fern and leaf and behind us two fat hamsters chomped through their paper shavings. I sat on a miniature chair while Mrs Forest perched, birdlike, on the edge of the nature table. It felt like this should be a happy place and I was angry to think of my daughter’s pain. Childhood doesn’t last long.
‘This awful bullying.’ The situation was unforgivable and I could not accept excuses. The school was responsible, they ought to have known; this was not my fault. I was not a carrier, Poppy could not be infected by me. ‘You must have seen something was wrong before it got this bad. Poppy tells me this trouble started right at the beginning of term.’
I noticed how clever the plaiting was of Mrs Forest’s braided hair. She looked Swiss, like Heidi, with a fresh and rosy alpine complexion. She smiled faintly before her defence began and I smiled back from politeness. ‘This is difficult… I don’t know how… if anything, I would have said Poppy was fine. I would have said Scarlett was more upset by the rift, and the animosity, subtle though it is, seems to have come mostly from Poppy.’ She paused to check my reactions before she went on in the same vein. ‘I did notice the turn of events and, in many ways, poor Harriet is merely the catalyst for something that was bound to happen. The truth is, Mrs Gordon, that for some time now Scarlett and Poppy have been growing apart. They have different interests. They are both growing up, individuals with varying needs…’
Suddenly I felt nauseous, with pinpricks of alarm that tickled my back and underarms. I had not bargained for this. ‘So you are trying to tell me that Poppy will not accept this? You are saying that Harriet Birch has nothing to do with this behaviour, that it’s all Poppy’s fault?’
‘Mrs Gordon,’ she went on gently. ‘As you must know, Scarlett is a lively and popular little girl. A happy-go-lucky child. Poppy finds making friends harder and until now she has tended to shelter under Scarlett’s wing. This worked fine through infants’ school and in the first years here, but at ten years old socializing takes on a more complex form…’
‘Yes?’ Why the pause?
‘We ought to have acted earlier, that’s true. We should have split the two girls up to allow this transition to happen more naturally. Poppy has been under too much pressure trying to keep up in Scarlett’s group.’
‘Oh?’ I continued to listen, dismayed and distracted as Mrs Forest droned on. So between the two of them, Harriet and Scarlett had concocted a believable tale. It’s always the prettiest, most popular children who get the teachers’ approval and I’d even heard that attractive names could influence attitudes. But her name, Poppy, was attractive. I could have understood matters more if we had called her Janice or Sue.
I don’t know how I got home that day.
Graham was insufferable, no support at all, told me I was paranoid and why would Scarlett suddenly turn nasty? I should get the two girls together in a non-threatening atmosphere and talk to them both about finding a way out.
But to me, this was the day when Poppy would be left behind in the race. No longer one of the chosen, but the one left behind to pick up the chaff.
It was so unbearably sad.
I saw this as the day when she would be sent to a slower, less challenging class. She would mix with less able pupils. She would lower her own expectations. One day soon she would wake up feeling cheated; she would suffer that raw awakening that comes when you face mediocrity and watch the privileged ones move ahead – not because of superior abilities but because of their natural appeal, and their cunning.
The day when your dreams are betrayed.
It was all so unfair, UNFAIR, UNFAIR.
I was ashamed of the strength of my
We sat in an empty classroom decorated with fern and leaf and behind us two fat hamsters chomped through their paper shavings. I sat on a miniature chair while Mrs Forest perched, birdlike, on the edge of the nature table. It felt like this should be a happy place and I was angry to think of my daughter’s pain. Childhood doesn’t last long.
‘This awful bullying.’ The situation was unforgivable and I could not accept excuses. The school was responsible, they ought to have known; this was not my fault. I was not a carrier, Poppy could not be infected by me. ‘You must have seen something was wrong before it got this bad. Poppy tells me this trouble started right at the beginning of term.’
I noticed how clever the plaiting was of Mrs Forest’s braided hair. She looked Swiss, like Heidi, with a fresh and rosy alpine complexion. She smiled faintly before her defence began and I smiled back from politeness. ‘This is difficult… I don’t know how… if anything, I would have said Poppy was fine. I would have said Scarlett was more upset by the rift, and the animosity, subtle though it is, seems to have come mostly from Poppy.’ She paused to check my reactions before she went on in the same vein. ‘I did notice the turn of events and, in many ways, poor Harriet is merely the catalyst for something that was bound to happen. The truth is, Mrs Gordon, that for some time now Scarlett and Poppy have been growing apart. They have different interests. They are both growing up, individuals with varying needs…’
Suddenly I felt nauseous, with pinpricks of alarm that tickled my back and underarms. I had not bargained for this. ‘So you are trying to tell me that Poppy will not accept this? You are saying that Harriet Birch has nothing to do with this behaviour, that it’s all Poppy’s fault?’
‘Mrs Gordon,’ she went on gently. ‘As you must know, Scarlett is a lively and popular little girl. A happy-go-lucky child. Poppy finds making friends harder and until now she has tended to shelter under Scarlett’s wing. This worked fine through infants’ school and in the first years here, but at ten years old socializing takes on a more complex form…’
‘Yes?’ Why the pause?
‘We ought to have acted earlier, that’s true. We should have split the two girls up to allow this transition to happen more naturally. Poppy has been under too much pressure trying to keep up in Scarlett’s group.’
‘Oh?’ I continued to listen, dismayed and distracted as Mrs Forest droned on. So between the two of them, Harriet and Scarlett had concocted a believable tale. It’s always the prettiest, most popular children who get the teachers’ approval and I’d even heard that attractive names could influence attitudes. But her name, Poppy, was attractive. I could have understood matters more if we had called her Janice or Sue.
I don’t know how I got home that day.
Graham was insufferable, no support at all, told me I was paranoid and why would Scarlett suddenly turn nasty? I should get the two girls together in a non-threatening atmosphere and talk to them both about finding a way out.
But to me, this was the day when Poppy would be left behind in the race. No longer one of the chosen, but the one left behind to pick up the chaff.
It was so unbearably sad.
I saw this as the day when she would be sent to a slower, less challenging class. She would mix with less able pupils. She would lower her own expectations. One day soon she would wake up feeling cheated; she would suffer that raw awakening that comes when you face mediocrity and watch the privileged ones move ahead – not because of superior abilities but because of their natural appeal, and their cunning.
The day when your dreams are betrayed.
It was all so unfair, UNFAIR, UNFAIR.
I was ashamed of the strength of my
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