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.

What did I do with my day.

As a Multicultural Teacher I supported children with reading and writing in class and in small groups in my classroom. I focussed on developing speaking and listening skills with the very young children. I ran an evening class in English for adults. I spent some time visiting parents at home. And there were times I organised some 'multicultural' activities which mainly consisted of making pizza with groups of children. I was extremely busy and I knew most of the children parents. A fulfilling job.