The sleeping child (II)

Back in the days when I was teaching literature in lower secondary, I introduced the students to a poem by John Walsh entitled "The Bully Asleep." Basically, it is about a group of students who were plotting 'revenge' on a bully who made their lives miserable. The best opportunity came when he fell asleep in class.

The idea from the poem befits the image of J, who had his head on the table. He was snoring away softly, oblivious to the laughter that was building up around him.  J. may not be the terrible bully as portrayed in the Walsh's poem, but there are are striking similarities.

This afternoon, when grassy Scents through the classroom crept, 

Bill Craddock laid his head Down on his desk, and slept.

The children came round him: Jimmy, Roger, and Jane; 

They lifted his head timidly And let it sink again.

‘Look, he’s gone sound asleep Miss’, Said Jimmy Adair; 

‘He stays up all the night, you see; His mother doesn’t care.’

J's story? 

Well. he does fall asleep when the humidity levels in the classroom reached almost an unbearable level. It was a usual sight to have him slumped over. I did not know which was better honestly. For you see, when J is awake, he talks endlessly. He must always have the last word. He is a bright child; and has a sharp wit. He has a good range of vocabulary; so some of the 'barbs' I throw at him are easily deflected. Even when told to keep quiet, he will attract attention with needless gestures; with a kick to the table, or by scraping his chair.

Yes...he does stay up all night. At least that was what his form teacher told me. And the fact that he lives a considerable distance from the school often finds him falling asleep in buses...and he is inevitably late for school on numerous occasions.

‘Stand away from him children.’ Miss Andrews stopped to see. 

‘Yes, he’s asleep; go on With your writing, and let him be.’

‘Now’s a good chance!’ whispered Jimmy, And he snatched Bill’s pen and hid it.

 ‘Kick him under the desk, hard; He won’t know who did it’

‘Fill all his pockets with rubbish – Paper, apple-cores, chalk.’ 

So they plotted, while Jane Sat wide-eyed at their talk.

I do not need to really tell you that J does not endear himself to his peers.  Negative attention is still produce some form of response from others - so in his loud, brash ways, J attracts all the wrong kind of attention. He is boorish, crude, and rubs people the wrong way.  He is not a bully in the conventional sense - it's his ways that puts people off.

Not caring, not hearing,Bill Craddock he slept on;
Lips parted, eyes closed –Their cruelty gone.

‘Stick him with pins!’ muttered Roger.
‘Ink down his neck!’ said Jim.
But Jane, tearful and foolish,
Wanted to comfort him.
In short, J is not a person that you would warm up to easily.  There were days when I feel exasperated by his endless distractions.  He hardly has books in his bag, has no papers nor books, and comes to class with the dirtiest-looking rag of a T-shirt ever.  When asked for his shirt, he would pull out a crumpled, yellowed school uniform  and grumbled that the weather was too hot to be wearing one.

But as I watch him sleep; with the exam paper left undone, a few things struck me...

This was a child...
whose fighting parents have declared that neither one wanted him
where the roof over his head was taken away because of the adults defaulting payment
who came to school sometimes without the money to fill his stomach

This is a child...
....this is a sad....sad....sad...sad...child.

Sleep J...if it calms your troubled soul....