Playground Matters.
By Angharad.

Tina’s results in school had been less than her usual average for some months. This was her third school in the past twelve months. Her parents were worried, the teachers were concerned. Something was going on but what?

Cerys Evans–her with the strange accent–had taken to the new girl almost immediately, and Tina had responded–at least to begin with–now she tended to avoid the young teacher.

Cerys sat in the classroom watching the girl as surreptitiously as she could: Tina seemed withdrawn, possibly even isolated from the other kids–almost as if she had some invisible disease. Tina had never quite mixed in with the other children–admittedly it could be difficult–the others had been together for two or three years–so had established friendships, alliances and even their enemies. They played, talked, squabbled and even occasionally fought each other as individuals or as groups–established groups–all except Tina. So what was different about Tina?

She was bright, had a reading age at least two years above her eight physical years. She was average height and weight, and while not terribly pretty–she wasn’t quite plain either–but then, looks weren’t that important at this age–give them a few more years, puberty and all those hormones whizzing round and yes, the ugly duckling won’t have as many friends–especially if he or she becomes an ugly duck.

Lizzie Matthews didn’t seem to let being plain affect her friendships–she was one of the most popular girls in the class and yet she was well down the queue when looks were given out–but it didn’t stop her having a busy social life, playing and chattering with mostly the other girls and occasionally the boys too.

At mid-morning break, Cerys watched Tina go out into the playground and sit eating an apple–she brought one every day–by herself. Now and again a child would interact with her but it was usually very brief and unfriendly if the body language was anything to go by. Tina rarely seemed to fight back, she just picked up her stuff and walked away, settling down somewhere else until she got tormented and moved on again–sometimes by the same child sometimes a different one.

Jayne–with a y–Prendergast was the latest one to show hostility towards Tina. Cerys was on playground duty and decided to intervene. “Jayne Prendergast, come by yer.”

The girl walked over to Cerys, “Yeah, Miss.”

“What did you say to Tina?”

“I didn’t say nothin’, Miss.”

“You clearly did because I saw you–now, what did you say?”

“I didn’t say nothin’.” The girl went bright red and brazened it out and there was little Cerys could do, which even kids of this age seem to know.

Cerys then walked to Tina and asked her what the other girl had said. She was as helpful as Jayne and the teacher walked away feeling very frustrated–how can you help when those in need refuse to cooperate?

Cerys blew her whistle to indicate break time was over and standing by the door heard a girl push Tina and say to her, “You’re weird, you are.” Tina said nothing in response nor had she done anything that provoked such animosity. There was something going on–and she wanted to know about it.

That evening after the children had left, Cerys went to see the headmistress. “Excuse me Mrs Johnson, is there anythin’ I should know about Tina Worsley?”

“What sort of things?”

“I heard another girl push her and call her weird, I’ve frequently seen other children, especially girls seem to tease her or be aggressive to her–I just wondered if there was anythin’ I should be aware of?”

The headmistress shook her head and went to a large filing cabinet and reaching for the bottom drawer selected the file belonging to Tina. She skimmed through it. “Nothing here, she’s new, perhaps she’s just taking a while to settle in–she’s been to several schools in the past year or so–mother has moved about in search of jobs–there’s no father apparently–not that that’s unusual these days–oh there’s an aunt who lives with them.

“The child is pretty bright, but nothing here to indicate there’s a problem at home–unless the aunt isn’t actually an aunt.”

“Not an aunt? What d’ya mean? You’ve lost me?”

“This is pure speculation, but what if the aunt is actually the mother’s lover?”

“Ah, got ya, I never think about such thin’s, don’t ‘appen too often back in Cwmbach–mind you we ’ad a couple of men who were like that,” she wiggled her hand back and fore, “if you see what I mean–not that I’ve anythin’ against them–live an’ let live that’s me?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had lesbian parents–and we don’t discriminate against such things–there is a policy, the school has one as does the LEA about no discrimination.”

“Um–yes, Mrs Johnson, I’ve seen it–did it durin’ my induction week. It’s just that Tina isn’t producin’ the sort of performance I’d expect for such a bright kid and I’ve seen the girls, especially, tormentin’ her durin’ break times.”

“Well apart from the fact that she gets free school meals, I can’t tell you anything else, but keep an eye on her, Cerys, and if there continues to be a problem, I’ll speak to the mother.”

The young teacher returned the file to the headmistress and left her office. She was sure that Tina could blossom if only the others let her–and as her teacher–a position Cerys took very seriously–teaching to her was a vocation–Cerys was going do all she could to help the girl.

At the end of an English lesson, just before lunch, she called Tina to see her at the end of class. She’d heard another girl call her a freak, and she wanted to know what it was all about.

“Tina, why did Natalie Smith call you a freak?”

“Did she, Miss, I didn’t hear her.”

“Yes you did, because you walked quickly away from her–now, what’s goin’ on yer?”

“Nothin’, Miss, ’onest–there’s nothin’.”

“I don’t believe you, so please tell me the truth?”

Tina shuffled from one foot to the other and tears began to form in her eyes, then there were spots of salty water on the floor. “They said I’m a witch, Miss.”

“A witch–like in Snow White?”

“That was the wicked queen, Miss.”

“Yeah, I knew that, so why do they think you’re a witch–don’t tell me, you’re good at spellin’?” Cerys should have been less frivolous, but she thought the whole situation was ridiculous.

They’d had an old lady in her village who was a bit strange and who talked to her cat and so on–the Baptist minister hounded her from the village–because he thought she was witch. Cerys had told him what she thought–Fanw Jenkins was a dementing old lady, who’d never got over the death of her son in a colliery accident thirty years before–and what sort of Christian was he if he couldn’t show her some Christian charity? She never set foot in the chapel again and every time they passed in the street she muttered, ‘arsehole’ under her breath–but just loud enough for him to hear it.

Her confrontation with the minister didn’t help the old lady–she was sent to an old people’s home in Aberdare and died a few months later–but it aroused in Cerys a sense to see fair play–she couldn’t stand bullies, and it was one of the reasons she was involved with Tina–as far as she was concerned, several of the other kids were bullying her, and it was more than likely it was because they thought her mother was a lesbian.

For the next day or two Tina was absent and Cerys told her class that she believed the girl was being bullied–and that the school and she, had zero tolerance of bullying–if she caught anyone–and she meant anyone–bullying Tina or anyone else–there’d be hell to pay.

Tina returned and it appeared the girl had been off with some tummy bug–Cerys hoped it was genuine. For a day or so, Tina was seemingly left alone–then there was an assault in the girl’s toilets and the girl had to be taken to hospital for some stitches in a small head wound.

Cerys being her class teacher, was sent to take her to the hospital and then to see her home–the headmistress was trying to call the mother to let her know what had happened.

An hour after getting to casualty, Tina got her stitches and an Xray and a couple of other tests. The doctor thought she’d be okay, but should be allowed to rest for a day or two and to return if she had any further symptoms–otherwise come back in a week to have the stitches out.

Cerys took the girl to her house and had to insist that she speak with either her mother or aunt. Tina tried to say she was fine, but Cerys insisted it was school policy and there was no one going to stop her.

Tina reluctantly opened the front door of the house which was part of a medium sized council estate–row upon row of identical, boring houses–which one or two, having purchased them made them more individual with porches and dormer windows.

“Mummy,” called the girl as they entered the house. “She’s not here, so you can go.”

“No way, I’m stayin’ until I speak with ’er, alright? What about yure auntie?” said the Welsh woman.

“She’s out too?”

“I don’t think so, the headmistress phoned someone yer an hour ago.” Just then a woman came in behind them closing the front door and almost knocking them over.

“Mummy,” said Tina and the woman hugged her.

“Who are you?” the mother asked Cerys.

“I’m Tina’s teacher.”

“What happened?” asked the mother.

“I believe she was assaulted in the toilets but she insists she fell on a wet floor–the floor wasn’t wet–I went and looked myself.”

“Are you telling lies, Tina?” her mother asked her.

“No, Mummy.”

“So what happened?”

“I fell and banged my ’ead.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe you, Tina,” Cerys accused, “There have been several times I’ve seen other children being unpleasant to her, and she won’t say why. The best answer I’ve got out of her is that they say she’s a witch. I don’t believe her, but I can’t help her until she tells me what’s goin’ on.”

“Are you alright, Teens?” the mother looked at the wound.

“Yeah, ’course I am.”

“Put the kettle on, you’d better come through, Miss...um”

“Evans, Cerys Evans.”

“You sound Welsh?”

“I am, an’ proud of it.”

“Tina’s dad was Welsh.”

“Really–where from?”

“Rhyll–I think.”

“Oh in North Wales, I’m from the south.”

“Come in,” she led Cerys into a fairly comfortable sitting room and invited her to sit while she made the tea. She came back a few minutes later with a tray with a teapot, cups and saucers and cream jug; following behind tailed Tina with a plate of chocolate biscuits–which she was busily scoffing–the wound had obviously not affected her appetite.

Cerys was sipping her tea and she and the mother talked about nothing in particular. Then Cerys asked the sixty four dollar question. “Why are the other kids bullying Tina?”

“How should I know, you’re the teacher–it’s your job to stop it, not mine.”

“I think you do know.”

“How would I do that?”

“Because it’s ’appened before, Tina has been in three schools in the past year.”

“That’s because we’ve had to move for economic reasons.”

“I don’t believe you–now, why has she been bullied?”

The conversation got more and more heated the mother insisting there was no bullying and Cerys insisting there was. Eventually, the door opened and another woman walked in.

“Just tell her, Norma–tell her the truth.”

Norma the mother looked embarrassed. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sick of it all the time.” The second woman sat on a settee and Tina jumped up alongside her and snuggled up to her.

“This is Miss Cerys Evans, Tina’s teacher.”

“Hello,” said the second woman, whom Cerys presumed was the auntie or lover. “I’m Michelle Worsley, Tina’s father.”

Cerys for once was at a loss for words.