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10 MARCH 2010
NO 1552
Crises as symptoms
We may have tended to suggest so far that everything at Shotton Hall goes smoothly and easily, according to the careful plans we have made.
Those who work with maladjusted children already know that this is far from true. For those who are not familiar with such work, let us attempt to complete the picture by mentioning some of the problems we have had to contend with at different times.
Always with us are the varying states of mood and emotion which individually beset the children and adults in a group like ours. Sometimes, too many people are tense at once and on occasions like this it is all too easy to get into a state of group crisis. For instance, I remember a time when my wife was severely injured and ill in hospital. There were grave doubts whether she could survive and all who knew her were worried, including the children. I myself was easily irritated and more authoritarian than usual in my handling of the children, because of my preoccupation and anxiety. The children were tense and puzzled by my changed attitude, and turned easily to their former mode of behaviour: crisis after crisis tore through the life at our school.
It is fatal to show that serious incidents move us to irritation or anxiety. Anger or obvious worry at some piece of anti-social behaviour may lead to chaos, because our attitude threatens the security of the boys involved, causing tension; in no time, we have real fires instead of symbolic fires and all sorts of reactions of a desperate and dangerous kind.
Our atmosphere, composed as it is of a number of children in varying degrees of disturbance, can very quickly go wrong – one particularly unsettled boy can easily accelerate the others' problems for a short period, leading to general unrest. There was once one small boy who disrupted the group so much that he had to go away. His obvious misdeeds, driving away cars, breaking in everywhere, leading boys on to the highest point of the roof and continually exposing himself to danger, diverted others away from their own social group and its positive influence, to follow him. After his departure, I heard one of our newest and most disturbed boys say: 'No fun here any more, now that Vaughan's gone away!' But this boy and many others were able to progress after Vaughan had left.
Sometimes a child will impel a crisis, perhaps by making mischief between adults, just to draw attention to himself, if he feels particularly inadequate. Other states of crisis arise because of the need of a child to bring his difficulties to a spectacular and dramatic head.
At other times the intervention of the adult world causes a personal upheaval. I remember once making a foolish mistake myself, which brought about a state of crisis for one of our boys, George. In a scuffle he had knocked over another child, who had cannoned into the corner of a heavy table. The doctor feared that there might be an internal injury to the child and took him to hospital for examination. By a strange coincidence this was at the time when my wife was ill with a similar injury and in my worry about a possible internal complication in her case, I was unwise enough to let George know that there might be serious consequences to his thoughtless action. The unfortunate result was that he was so tense and anxious that his feelings became too much for him and he took refuge in irrational behaviour – he damaged severely one of our biggest outbuildings at the school.
Another such tension resulted in the burning of some bales of straw in our barn by a boy: a rejected and neglected child, who had taken some clothing from a shop when he had run away in search of the acceptance he had not received from his father and step-mother. There was considerable investigation of the case and the boy returned to school, still not knowing whether the police would be taking him to court or not. The desperate anxiety during this long wait became too much for him in spite of all our reassurances. The load placed upon him by the slow working of the adult world was too much and he had to start a dramatic crisis to relieve his feelings; he eased his tension in the flames from our bales of straw. Only a day later the information was received that he would not be prosecuted. (This boy is now at work and doing well all round.)
The varying states of crisis to which we are exposed are rnany. It is necessary to school oneself to face them with apparent equanimity, if further states of tension are not to be produced. We sometimes find it difficult to define just what a crisis is; certainly the kind of event which constitutes crisis-level in most ordinary schools would scarcely ruffle the surface of our daily life at Shotton.
We are frequently asked how we deal with the symptoms of emotional disturbance and with the behaviour problems involved. Of course, it must be remembered that these symptoms are just symptoms and no more. The method that underlies our work is to seek the underlying reason for maladjustment whether a boy has bed-wetting, pilfering or aggression as one of his symptoms is not the matter of fundamental importance in his cure.
F.G. LENNHOFF
Lennhoff, F.G. (1960). Exceptional children: Residential treatment of emotionally disturbed boys at Shotton Hall. London. George Allen and Unwin Ltd. pp. 106-108.
