I had a fight in a playground once.
Not uncommon I suppose, but more so when I reveal that I was a head teacher at the time. I may be exaggerating a little when I use the word ‘fight’. I was more the referee between two mothers who had come to pick up their children at the end of the day and decided to continue a previous argument.
I remember standing in between them looking at the other parents and frightened children staring on in in disbelief as these two Mancunian heavyweights tried to knock seven bells out of each other, with me, (less of a heavyweight at the time) standing between them trying to calm the situation down.
No teaching degree in the world can prepare you for dealing with a situation like that. I’ve split up many fights in playgrounds, but this one is by far the most memorable, or so I thought.
Fast forward 14 years and I’m a head in Abu Dhabi. One afternoon I get a call to say that two parents were fighting in the playground. Once my Manchester flashback had passed, I
got there to see two mums screaming at each other. When I tried to settle things down using my limited Arabic, and stood in between them, one of the contenders took it upon themselves to spit on me and the other parent and then storm off.
Lovely ... Now, it was at this point that things started to get really messy. Enraged, the spittee began to charge at the spitter. Once again I found myself in between two warring mothers surrounded by other parents and frightened children, so, like before, my natural instinct was to prevent one from reaching the other and making the situation worse but knowing Middle Eastern cultural boundaries I was aware that I couldn’t make any physical contact at all, so I stood in front of her and every time she moved, I moved in the same direction.
To anybody arriving at the scene without seeing the nonsense that had started it all, this may have been an amusing sight, somewhere between ballroom dancing and dodgeball, but to me and the spittee, it was deadly serious.
Eventually, she grew tired of the charade, picked up her child and left. What I’ve learned from working in schools around the world is that when it’s all boiled down, no matter where you are, parents generally have the same worries and woes.
Sometimes those woes are blown out of all proportion, (as demonstrated) but there is always a reason why people behave in extreme ways and that is often not explored as much as it should be because the extreme behaviour of parents is generally the reason behind the extreme behaviour of their offspring.
It is common to firefight in schools when situations erupt and decisions have to be made on the spot, but when educators at all levels take the long view and strive to build lasting relationships with families, outbursts from parents and children can be prevented.
It’s terribly sad, however, when they don’t and obvious from the moment that you walk through the school door.
