Joe the Giant

For many years I worked with kids between the ages of 14 and 16 who had been excluded from school. In That Kid With Red Hair I wrote of one of our pupils who surprised me with his success after completing the program. But there were some who never managed to complete; for one reason or another they did not see it through.

Joe (not his real name) was one of these. He was in his second year on the program when I joined so he already knew all the tricks, whereas my co-worker and I were still learning. It would not be far from the truth to say that Joe ran the show for the first few weeks of that year.

Of course, we knew that we could not let this continue for long. We began a long struggle for power, a war that we could win one day, only to find that we had to fight it again the next. Joe was not a quitter.

He was also one of the most likable kids I have known. His chosen method of control in groups was to be the class clown and he could be very funny at times. The problem was that he needed to be the center of attention all the time. It was very entertaining to be in the same room with Joe but it was also impossible to get anything done. We began to talk to him about his constant interruptions and the fact that, while it was good to have fun, there was also work to be done.

Joe understood all that we explained to him; he was an affable, intelligent kid who wanted to please but seemed incapable of changing his ways. Time and again we would reach agreement that he should try harder to allow the group to work and, for half an hour or so, he might succeed. But always he would forget his promises and revert to his disruptive behavior.

We liked Joe so much that I think we tried harder with him than any other pupil. The constant battle was wearing us down, however, and the year was slipping by without anyone achieving anything. It was heart-breaking to have to do it but we began to get tough with him, doling out suspensions in an attempt to curb his wilder excesses. It would work for a day or two and then we'd be back to the same old struggle.

In the end we realized that, for the sake of the others, we would have to bring his time on the program to an end. That was the most difficult task I faced in all my years in the job. It was like betraying a friend. He accepted it well and often came in to visit us in the years that followed but, to us, it always felt as though we had failed him.

It was the right thing to do, however. In the remaining few months of the year, the others accelerated in the learning process and all left the program with qualifications. There was even some relief amongst them that they no longer had to pay court to the ever entertaining Joe.

Secretly, my co-worker and I missed him. He had become a good friend and made us laugh with his antics. The funniest joke of all, however, turned out to be at his expense.

Joe was huge for his age, very tall and powerfully built. This increased his ability to dominate a room and he was very proud of the fact that he was six foot tall. Although he was essentially good natured and never used his size in a violent way, he was always getting into trouble with the police through his escapades in the world outside.

There was one morning when Joe was very late in appearing. It turned out that he been involved in some sort of mischief and the police had caught him and held him for a few hours. This was a fairly common occurrence and so the morning proceeded as normal. I noticed that Joe seemed unusually subdued, however, and drew him aside, presuming that he was worried about his brush with the police.

But that was not the problem at all. Joe had been arrested so many times before that he was on first name terms with most officers. His concern stemmed from something that had happened when he was brought to the police station.

Apparently, he had been through the normal procedure of answering questions and at one stage the officer had asked Joe's height. Joe answered confidently that he was six foot tall. He was then measured and the officer looked serious and said, "You're not six foot at all."

Joe was astounded. "What? I'm six foot tall, I know I am," he had protested.

"Nope," said the officer, "You're not six foot. According to my measurement, you're only five foot twelve."

Well, I tried very hard not to laugh but did not succeed. When I explained to Joe how the officer had hoodwinked him, he looked very sheepish and begged me not to tell the others. And I promised and kept silent.

But I never heard him bragging about his height after that.