That Kid With Red Hair

For many years before I left England and came to the States, I worked with 14 to 16 year olds who had been excluded from school. Yes, that's a nice way of saying they had been expelled. But the truth was that most of them had excluded themselves by not attending for a long time. On average, they had spent two years without seeing the inside of a school building and the minimum was a year. It takes that long or even longer for schools in England to notice that they're missing a kid* and do something about it.

Because they had missed so much schooling, all were well behind their age group in literacy, numeracy and social skills. Much of our work with them consisted of trying to improve their skills in these areas whilst attempting to curb the more destructive behavior they had developed over the years. In essence, we were trying to civilize them sufficiently for them to be employable when they reached school leaving age.

It was exhausting work but, in most cases, ultimately rewarding. There is nothing quite like the experience of a young man returning to see you after a year or two and thanking you for what he learned while under your care. There was one lad in particular who surprised me more than any other.

Charlie (not his real name) was a picture of good behavior when we first interviewed him prior to accepting him as a student. He was chubby, with a broad grin and pleasant manners, and his hair was as red as an Italian racing car. We accepted him without qualm.

It soon became apparent that Charlie was not quite what he had led us to believe. From day one he was loud, mischievous and took little notice of authority. This was fairly normal in the kids we worked with; they were either quite sure that they would run the show and made that clear from the start, or they were silent, withdrawn and morose. Charlie soon proved to be more of a handful than most, however.

Whenever there was trouble in the building (which we shared with several adult learning projects), Charlie was the one found to be the root cause. His shocking ginger hair made him easily identifiable and I came to dread the words, "Don't know his name but it was the one with the red hair."

Part of my strategy when dealing with the kids was to treat them as adults, even when they were not behaving like them. After every incident I would talk to the kids responsible and explain to them why their behavior caused problems for everyone else as well as themselves and, of course, they would agree and promise never to do it again. Charlie was a past master at this game. He would nod and agree and express his remorse, using his great powers of charm to escape retribution. Five minutes later he'd be caught doing something equally stupid.

Charlie was with us for two years and, in that time, I think I aged ten. He was a constant worry. On occasion I had to suspend him from the project for a few days in the hope of moderating his behavior. Suspension was the ultimate weapon and was surprisingly effective. The kids hated not being allowed to attend. For some reason that I have still not fathomed, they loved being in the project and would arrive an hour early and then have to be forced out of the door at closing time. Charlie was no exception and he would rage and cry on those occasions when he had left me with no option other than suspension. And always, for a few days after his return, he would be the model student, working diligently and staying out of trouble.

Then the pattern would return and he would go back to his old ways. In his second year with us, there seemed to be a fashion amongst the kids for breaking into cars and driving them until they crashed or were stopped by the police. Charlie fancied himself an expert at this game. He professed not to notice that he was always the one who got caught and it did not seem to enter his mind that his red hair was a dead give away. We explained this to him several times and suggested that he give up the game, handicapped in his appearance as he was but, no, Charlie was determined that he was going to be the greatest car thief the world had ever known.

In spite of all this, Charlie did well on the more academic side. He was quick and intelligent, often taking much less time to complete work than did the others. I succeeded in pushing him hard enough to obtain some qualifications before he left the project.

And we all heaved a great sigh of relief when Charlie's last day was over and he sallied forth into the big, bad world to earn his fortune. I did not expect to see him again, considering that his temptation towards car theft would end with him in jail for long periods.

It was over a year later that a pleasant young man wandered into the project and asked to see me. He was tall, well built and immaculately dressed. I glanced at him and wondered what this fellow wanted with me and he stared back with an amused expression on his face. It was only when he spoke, asking whether I recognized him, that I saw it was a new version of Charlie.

We sat with him for an hour in the canteen while he told us of all that had happened since he left the project. He had found employment and was doing well, enrolling on a course of study to better himself further. He was saving money and was able to buy many of the things he had always wanted, including the smart clothes he was wearing.

We listened but with only half an ear, still amazed at the transformation in him. And, when he thanked us for what we had done for him, I wondered what that could have been. But he made it clear. All that time, when we had been led such a merry dance by him and nearly despaired of his ever amounting to anything, he had been listening and learning. When the time came to be an adult, he had risen to the challenge and grown up overnight.

Charlie was the greatest surprise of them all.

--ooOoo--

* Many people don't like the word "kid" when applied to a child or teenager, pointing out that the word means a young goat. But I like it as a word for the kids I worked with because they were not children, nor were they adults. They were something in between and "teenager" is too much of a mouthful to repeat continually. So I shall use the word throughout this article, like it or not. It won't be the first word in the English language with more than one meaning, after all.