Insecticide Hairdressing

A young mother, with three small girls, came over to see me in the playground one morning.  She looked a little distressed.   Apparently the middle girl, who was very active and always into mischief, had gone out into the veranda and tipped insecticide powder over her hair.    The mother then spent a considerable amount of time before school washing the powder out of the girl’s hair.   Not an easy job, considering the powder was very poisonous.  

 I worried about the little girl all day, but she seemed okay at the end of the school day, when the mother came to collect the oldest girl.

I became very close to this family, during my time at the school, and visited their home often.   They were very hardworking immigrants, who started with a two roomed house, which they extended over time, and made into a very comfortable five roomed house.    They also did the same with their greenhouses.   And all this was done without growing the plant that brought many people instant riches, and often a spell in prison.   

I admired them greatly, as a family, except for the insecticide incident, as I knew the powder should have been locked away.

Action, or not

The fathers lining up along the front fence of the school were angry, very angry.   No shotguns in sight, but the word went around that they were there in order to have a confrontation with the supply teacher.    He was terrified, so we did the sensible thing, and hid him in the toilets until the parents left the school, which took some time, I might add.  The teacher’s crimes: he could not control the class of very difficult and badly behaved boys, who had spent the day, literally swinging from the light fittings.  

The teacher, a slightly built and quiet man, never came back to the school again, and no doubt still has nightmares about ‘out of control’ children and angry and aggressive fathers.  

I do hope he took some lessons in assertiveness training though.   He needed it!

Care and consideration, always appreciated

The car, an old and battered Ford Fairmont, broke down just outside the community centre.   Well it ran out of petrol, to be precise.   We seemed to be always broke, and keeping the tank full was never an option. 

I was just about to get the can out of the boot, in order to walk back to the service station, when I saw a car come down the drive of the farmhouse.   The farmer stopped and asked if he could help, as he had seen my car stop on the side of the road.   He then took me to the service station, and brought me back, whereupon we noticed that the front right tyre was flat.   The farmer changed the tyre, then filled the petrol tank, before sending me on my way home.   

This was a typical supportive and considerate action by a caring farmer in the local farming community.     

A Close Call

Another near murder, only it was not, thank goodness.   It was reported to us, one Monday morning, that one of the fathers had shot another father, in the toilets at the local pub.  Our imagination ran wild.   Was he sitting on the toilet when it happened?   Did the victim inform the police about what was growing in his glasshouse?   But it was probably just a drunken argument.   Luckily the father was not seriously injured.   The children of both fathers continued to be friends at school, thank goodness.    Parental disputes can only go so far. 

The Community

What can I say?   It was a market garden community, with tomatoes as the main crop.   But there was often with another plant, growing in between the tomato plants in the glass houses, certainly more lucrative than growing tomatoes.  And who can blame the people who went down this path, as it meant money, new homes and comfort, instead of struggling to make a living.    But sadly it also resulted in a lack of trust between people, as they were always on the alert for snoopers who may inform on them.     Most of the people in the community were also tough;  migrants from southern Europe, who had known a fair bit of hardship in their birth countries.  But they were also generous, and very loyal, to the school and to the teachers.   It was a community that really grew on you.

Murder

I opened the Sunday paper, and the headlines blazed 'Woman found dead in .......'.    My heart sank.   It couldn't be Mrs S.   Surely not.  

A couple of weeks previously a mother at the school  left her husband and three children and disappeared, with no further contact with family.   Her husband did not know where she was.   He was very upset, and could not understand why she had left.   But, at the back of my mind I thought it must have been for a major reason as this mother loved her children very much.

So when I saw the headlines, my first thought was the children.  What to do?   Panic set in.   So Walter and I decided to drive out to visit the family, on the pretext of picking olives.        

And it was with great relief to find the father and three children at home, but not entirely happy as the dead woman had been found in a hut close to their house.   So we picked olives, spent some time with the family and drove home.

As to the murder, it was the result of a dispute between a man and a woman, but thank goodness the family at our school were not involved.

Sadly the mother never returned home, and there was no more contact.

And we threw the olives out because my attempt at preserving olives was not successful, not at all.

A miracle

Geoge was small and dark haired. He always looked sullen. He never spoke to anyone. And he kept his eyes down.

During playtime George hung around corners or in passegeways. In class he sat without interacting. Very little work was produced. But he was not a behaviour problem. Except that we all worried about him. He would not be enticed out of his silence ever.

The area behaviour support team wasc alled in and a transformation took place. A buddy was found for George. Then a member of the team spent three months helping George change his behaviour.

And his behaviour did change. George became a happier boy. He played, he talked, he laughed and he had friends. He started to work in the classroom.

A miracle had occurred.   I wonder what has happened to George?   I hope that was a new beginning for him, and life has turned out to be successful.