Free No Place for Nathan by Casey Watson Page B

particular about which women he was drawn to. He also seemed to like disrupting other children if they were playing or working quietly. To do this, he’d usually cry out that someone had just called him a name, then proceed to hit out at or kick the unfortunate victim, who almost always, I quickly established, had not said a word.
    He was also without fear; he had no anxiety about tackling his bigger, stronger classmates. He’d take on anyone, regardless of their size. He’d provoke the boys, too – never a good idea, if you’re in a behaviour unit – by stroking them as he passed, fluttering his eyelashes and pouting his lips, and saying things like ‘You think I’m sexy, don’t ya?’ and ‘Ooh, I know you want me!’
    Needless to say, this went down badly. The other lads I had in with me at the time, particularly James and Dillon, would swear at him and threaten to batter him, which of course caused disruption, and I began to realise why he was a difficult boy to have in class. Nathan himself, at this point, would become seriously distressed, and it would be a good 30 minutes – with him mostly sobbing hysterically – before I could quieten him down and get the group back on track again.
    That was the most interesting thing, I decided – this abrupt change in mood. I’d catch him out, give him detention, perhaps, and get the evil eye from him, but within a moment, he was usually back to being angelic, particularly if there was no one else around. It just didn’t appear to sink in with him that he may have annoyed me or upset me. It would be an interesting process, I decided, getting to understand what made him tick and, if I could manage to do so, to help him gain insight and control over his behaviours.
    Interesting, and perhaps something of a multi-faceted challenge, as I was to realise that Friday afternoon. It was a couple of minutes before the final afternoon bell went – home time for the kids and finishing-up time for the staff, before a much-looked-forward-to break over the weekend. I’d had Jim with me for most of the afternoon and we’d been working on conflict resolution with the group; a drama-based lesson where they would act out various scenarios that could lead to an argument, and we’d look at solutions that wouldn’t end in a fight or an exclusion.
    The going-home routine was the same every day, just as it tends to be in schools everywhere. And today it was Jim who was directing operations.
    ‘Right,’ he said, as the bell sounded. ‘Stop what you’re doing, tidy your area and put your things away quietly, then get your coats and line up by the door.’
    Pens began going into pencil cases and chairs started scraping back – so far, just an ordinary end to the day – but then we both became aware of Nathan, who’d moved only in as much as he’d sat back and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Do you have a problem with that, Nathan?’ asked Jim.
    I saw the strange look come across Nathan’s face even before he spoke. ‘Yeah, I do, you ugly motherfucker,’ he said, grinning nastily.
    I was used to his kamikaze approach to dealing with bigger, tougher boys but was genuinely aghast to hear him speaking like this to Jim.
    The other kids started to giggle and nudge each other as they prepared to leave, and Jim took the sensible step of dismissing them. ‘Okay, you lot, you can go now,’ he told them. ‘Have a nice weekend, and we will see you on Monday.’
    I added my own farewell, herding them out, aware of their disappointed faces at being asked to leave just as the entertainment was about to begin. If that had been Nathan’s plan – to grab some attention – it had backfired.
    I shut the door then, turned back and, after exchanging a glance and some raised eyebrows with Jim, asked Nathan gently if something was troubling him.
    He didn’t look at me. Instead he put his hands in front of his face, as if to create a barrier between us. He then turned his face towards Jim.