Stirling. She had received a similar response to the one the parent had got from the former head teacher. ‘James has no condition, disorder or problem,’ he had told her dismissively. ‘He is just a quiet, under-confident little boy who is still grieving for his mother. I am weary of hearing and reading about all these so-called children’s disorders and syndromes.’
‘I first met Darren when I came for the interview for the head teacher’s position,’ Elisabeth told the parent, ‘and I looked at his work. It was imaginative and well-expressed, but his spelling and handwriting were below average for a child of his age. At first your son was reticent in letting me see his exercise book and told me his writing was not very good. He tried hard, he said, and liked writing but found words really difficult. I think he was of the opinion that he was not very clever.’
‘That’s true,’ agreed the mother. ‘He’s always saying he’s rubbish at writing and that he can’t seem to do anything right. He gets so upset and angry with himself. He’s not a lad to push himself forward and he lacks confidence.’
‘It’s not unusual for children with dyslexia to have low self-esteem and lack confidence in themselves, but I am telling you, Mrs Holgate, that your son is a bright, creative boy. Dyslexia affects a lot of people, some say over ten per cent of the population, and it is no reflection of a person’s intelligence.’
‘I see.’
‘At the beginning of the term, Mrs Goldstein, the educational psychologist, came into school and I asked her to speak to Darren, look at his work and give him a couple of tests. His verbal reasoning skills are high, he has a good visual memory, his number work is excellent and he has an above average IQ. The test on vocabulary, comprehension and spelling did, however, show that Darren does have a problem with some aspects of his writing.’
‘Yes, he told me he’d been doing tests,’ said the parent. ‘I thought all the children were doing them, though.’
‘What I am suggesting, Mrs Holgate, is that we put Darren on a personalised programme where he will receive some specialist support to help him reach his potential. It will be tailored to his needs and will only involve one lunchtime tuition a week and some work for him to do at home. Does that sound acceptable to you?’
‘Oh yes, Mrs Devine,’ said the parent. There was a tremble in her voice. ‘I only want what’s best for Darren. He gets so frustrated and unhappy at times with his writing and he’s always telling me he’s not as good as the other children in the class.’ She suddenly started to cry. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders.’
‘So if you would have a word with Darren and see how he feels about it . . .’ said Elisabeth. ‘He has to be willing to do it.’
‘I will, Mrs Devine,’ said the parent. ‘I’ll speak to him tonight.’
The following day at lunchtime the subject of the discussion approached Elisabeth hesitantly as she walked around the playground.
‘My mum said you would like a word with me, miss,’ he said. He looked on the verge of tears.
‘Don’t look so worried, Darren,’ his teacher reassured him. ‘You are not in any trouble.’
‘My mum said you want me to do some special course, miss.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Will I have to go to another school?’ His bottom lip began to tremble.
‘Of course you won’t have to go to another school. All it means is that you will spend one lunchtime a week with me and maybe with one of the other teachers, and you will be given some work to do at home to help you with your spellings and handwriting. How does that sound?’
The boy sniffed and wiped his nose on a finger. Elisabeth reached into her pocket and passed him a tissue. He blew his nose loudly. ‘I’m rubbish at spelling,’ the boy told her. ‘I always have been.’
‘But you won’t be for long. Not if
Learning to Kill: Stories