This Incident Took Place in a British Secondary School

This incident took place in an English primary school in the spring of 1986. The only witnesses were a group of eight-year-old children, and none of them breathed a word, so the story never spread. Even the parents, who probably learnt what went on, made no complaints to the teacher. There was silence from everyone.

I heard about this from the teacher herself. Her entire life, she was haunted by the memory and the guilt of how sternly she had acted against one of her pupils.

It was a truly difficult situation. To be honest, Im not sure what to make of it even now. Ill be interested to hear your thoughts…

A young woman named Margaret Williams, just twenty-two, had come to the town of Grantham to start work as a teacher, her first real post. She was little more than a girl herself; full of enthusiasm and eager to prove that she could shape and inspire her very own class, and perhaps even change lives.

Margaret was doing rather well, considering her class was made up of children left over after others had chosen a parallel “specialist” class. Still, the children made solid progress, making both parents and the headteacher happy. Order in her classroom was generally good.

Of course, among thirty-five eight-year-olds, there are always a few wholl test your patience. Margaret, as well call her, had her share. She managed to win most of them over, involving even the most mischievous ones in school lifeeveryone except one.

Tommy Watts was different. He came from a broken home. His mother, too busy and disconnected, was barely involved at all. So Tommy grew up like a weed on the roadside: wild, isolated, shunning both children and adults alike.

Margaret tried everything to befriend Tommy, but nothing worked. He was openly rebellious. He hid under his desk during lessons, pulling faces and sending the rest of the class into fits of giggles. He would swear loudly, using shocking language he knew everyone could hear. Sometimes he would call others dreadful names, making many childrenespecially the girlscry. He even smoked behind the school gym, something that even the older children wouldn’t dare.

Anytime anyone tried correcting him, Tommy would stand his ground and retort, Well, what are you going to do about it?

But the worst of Tommys many offences was his habit of spitting. There wasnt a child in the class who hadnt been spat at by him at least once. Hed build up a mouthful and fire off a big gob in the direction of his next victim, clearly enjoying himself as he did it.

Disgusting doesnt even begin to describe it.

Margaret tried reasoning, pleading, and scoldingnothing worked. Tommy would only repeat the behaviour even more brazenly.

Eventually, Margaret broke her rule and contacted his mother. She rarely asked the parents for this kind of help, but she saw no other option.

Please, speak to your son. He wont listen to me. Hes spat at everyone, and I fear Ill be next.

His mother promised to sort him out and chased him about with a wooden spoon. Tommy arrived the next day, bruised and glaring with resentment.

That very afternoon, his behaviour worsened. This time he spat his way through the corridors at break time, both sneaking and blatantly targeting children from other year groups. He relished the horror and helplessness he caused, even laughing to himself at the disgust and tears he provoked. It was impossible to understand why he would even dare spit at the bigger kids, scrawny and small as he was.

Older boys caught him a few times and gave him a thrashing, stern warnings following, but Tommy would simply run off, hurling insults back over his shoulder.

By then, everyonefrom classmates to prefectshad had enough. Tommys ultimate act came when, stationed atop the staircase, he let fly a revolting spit that landed squarely on the head of the schools beloved geography teacher, Mrs. Greene. Tommy must have mistaken her for a senior pupil. Mrs. Greene, unaware, moved on, but the incident was seen by a band of hulking year tens, who told her, then caught up with Tommy and left him beaten and in need of a trip to the nurse.

Miss Williams, this is going to end badly one day, warned the matron after patching Tommy up.

Ive tried everything. He just grows worse and bolder.

Some children, the older woman mused, only understand their own language.

Oh, so Im supposed to spit at him back? snapped Margaret, frustrated.

I dont know

The conversation ended, but Margaret couldnt stop thinking about it.

For a while after his beating, Tommy kept his head down. But soon enough, his old ways returned.

One day, when a girl in the class, Emily, celebrated her birthday and brought in chocolates, Tommy managed to outdo himself yet again: he spat right in Emilys face as she was being congratulated. She broke down in tearsand Tommy looked straight at Margaret, as if to say, So what? What will you do now?

That was Margarets breaking point.

She called Tommy to the front of the room, quietly walked over and locked the classroom door. Gazing around at her unusually silent class, she spoke firmly:

Stand if youve ever been spat at by Tommy.

Almost everyone stood.

Weve told him before, its disgusting, but he doesnt listen. I dont think he understands. So, Im going to try something else. Each of you is now allowed to do something disgraceful. Well-mannered people never behave this way, but were out of options. I want each of you to go up and spit on Tommy, once. Maybe then hell realise how revolting it feels.

The class silently lined up. Tommy darted for the door, forgetting it was locked. Soon, his classmates backed him into a corner by the sink and began to spitsome with determination, others unwilling and apologetic, but almost everyone participated. No one laughed, no one spoke. The only sound was Tommys muffled whimpering.

When all was done, and everyone was back in their seats, it hurt to even look at him. Tommy sat on the floor, head held tight, tears streaming down his defiled face.

Margaret looked around at her quiet class.

I dont know about you, but Im ashamedof myself, him, and all of us.

The children averted their eyes.

Remember this day, continued Margaret, and never, ever mistreat another person by word or action. You now know what it leads to.

She opened the door. Tommy fled.

I wont say this must remain our secret, Margaret added quietly, I trust you to know that already. Off you go.

Tommy stayed away the rest of the day, and didnt show up the next morning.

Margaret, determined to apologise, visited his house, bracing herself for confrontation. His mother, though, was entirely in the dark.

Hes just not himself. Been crying and refuses to go to school.

May I speak to him? Margaret asked.

She was shown in. Tommy, spotting her, dove under his blanket.

I get itits upsetting, she said gently, placing a hand on his head. And scary. You think theyll laugh at you. Maybe they will, but youre not a coward, are you? No one will hurt you.

There was only silence.

Shall I move you to another class? Maybe theyd enjoy it if you spat on them, too?

Tommy shot out from under the blanket, eyes blazing.

Ill never spit again! he shouted, his voice breaking. Dont move me

Good. The others have been worried youre not well.

Tommy lowered his head, saying nothing.

Margaret ruffled his hair.

All right then. See you tomorrow.

See you tomorrow, he echoed.

Tommy returned to class, and it was as if nothing had happened.

No one in that classroom ever spat again.

Later, as these children progressed through the school, they became known as uncommonly tight-knit.

Its as if theyre one single unit, some teachers remarked.

Or perhaps theyre bound by a dreadful secret, others joked, thinking themselves clever.

Margaret herself left Grantham for another town not long after her first group moved up. She would never forget that day, the haunting memory and guilt following her for years. She worried she may have scarred the children.

When she told me the story, I suggested she look into what became of Tommy and set her mind at rest.

She did. It turned out that when Tommy was in year seven, his mum remarried, this time to an army sergeant. The new stepfather insisted Tommy attend a cadet college and helped him enrol.

Now, Tommy is around forty-five, a military officer, still in touch with many from his schooldays. Sometimes he even visits Grantham.

And one more thing: at school reunions, the story of Tommys reform never gets mentioned. Not even as a joke. Maybe theyve truly forgotten.

Theres a lesson in all this: Our actions, especially those made when angry or desperate, can leave deep markson others and on ourselves. Yet, sometimes the most difficult experiences can also plant the seeds for profound change. Thats why, before we respond, its worth thinking: is there a kinder way? And if not, how do we find our way back to kindness afterwards?