For a few years now, I’ve been delivering a programme that concentrates on resilience at my school. It’s wonderful to see the emphasis on mental well-being and general health steadily gaining significant ground within the primary curriculum, among a variety of initiatives cropping up in the education sector.
However, the devil is always in the detail. The fine art of navigating everyday, transient interactions is not something that’s amply represented in the curriculum. I often feel a strong compulsion to impart some key, yet largely undocumented lessons to the children.
For instance, the statement “give it time”. It’s a lesson that pupils need to comprehend: allowing dishes to sit in the sink for a day or two can not only help remove stubborn stains adhering to the dish, but also allows the dish’s owner to thoroughly understand their responsibilities. If it means the dish remains on the draining board for another couple of days, so be it.
Another crucial lesson is how to conduct oneself on the off chance one needs to use a hotel’s facilities just for a short while. We’ve all been there. The important thing here is to be fearless and exude confidence even when unexpectedly compelled to deal with hotel staff. A calm, unblinking stare normally does the trick. Having a hotel on my way to work is rather handy, specifically when I need to momentarily use their facilities, which are always impeccably clean.
Finally, the power of the word “sorry” is immeasurable – something I’ve learnt from the children themselves. They quickly realise the magic it has to diffuse a tense situation and make it vanish swiftly.
We adults often interpret an apology as an admission of weakness, and, paradoxically this can escalate to outright hostility over the pettiest of issues.
Many moons ago, while a coworker was off, I inherited a litany of tasks. Resiliently, I ticked them off my improvised paper checklist, vowing to complete them swiftly. One task required a meeting with a parent who, as it transpired, didn’t show up as initially planned. Upon spotting her near the gate, with haste, I approached her. There had been a misunderstanding; according to her, no such appointment was confirmed for that day.
Nevertheless, she was coaxed into coming to the office, although her hesitance was glaring, and the air brimmed with a distinct sense of resentment. It was evident her day hadn’t been easy, but this meeting was a necessity – one I wanted to resolve with minimal discord.
Therefore, I prioritised extending a sincere apology. The situation’s fault could have been pinned on anyone – me, her, or even my absent colleague, but honestly, I wasn’t concerned with blame. Her tension abated almost instantly, like a breath of fresh air, dissipating the frosty aura in the room. Twenty minutes later, we went our separate ways, resuming our daily routines.
One more piece of advice. When using a pedestrian crossing button, pressing it once suffices. Continually pressing it won’t speed up the traffic lights, and such behaviour merely reveals a fundamental ignorance of urban life. The green walking symbol will illuminate when it’s ready, trust me.
And there we have it.
Ah, I recall another incident. Some months back, a substitute teacher, retired but experienced, was working with our youngest learners. An inquisitive child asked the teacher if he was ‘old’, to which he acknowledged that he was.
“Are you nearing death?”, the little one asked. A profound and fair question, leading into a possible deep philosophical discussion. However, considering everything, it might be better to leave those thoughts unspoken.
For unceremonious, laid-back exchanges such as these, it might be sensible to keep the conversation on the topic of the weather.