The Boring Child

After some deliberation, I've come to realise that the hardest student to deal with is the congenitally dull child. The badly behaved child can be sent out, the chatty child can be hushed, the lazy child can be pushed but the boring child can only be torturously tolerated. The best (or worst) example of this is T, a year 9 boy who is alone in finding himself endlessly interesting. Cursed with the gift of the gab and a vacant skull, he exists only to regale his rapidly-tiring friends with the world's least interesting (and most lengthy) anecdotes. Unfortunately, he has recently decided that I am to be honoured with his attention.

A typical exchange follows the below pattern. A class earlier I gave a girl a detention and she gave herself a blood nose. In the same room, the following class, T followed in the crimson trail.

T: Mr B, why's there blood leading out into the corridor?
Mr B: A girl gave me lip so I belted her.
T: (genuinely shocked) You better not try it with me.
Mr B: T, you're four foot tall. I think I could take you.
T: Nah, nah, 'cos if you did, my dad would come and get you.
Mr B: I'm a black belt, I could take your dad.
T: Nah, nah, 'cos then my uncle would come and get you. He's a world-famous boxer.
Mr B: Boxers are easy.
T: Nah, nah, 'cos then all his friends would come and beat you up.
Mr B: Ok, T, I'm bored with this conversation now. Start your work.
T: And then my uncle's friends would come and beat you up.
Mr B: T, shush.
T: And all my friends would come and beat you up.
Mr B: T, I mean it. Quiet.
T: etc. etc. ad infinitum.

OR:

T: Mr B, guess what?
Mr B: T, do your work.
T: I turned a tap, yesterday.
Mr B: Amazing. T, do your work.
T: Do you want to know what happened?
Mr B: I want you to do your work.
T: It came off in my hand.
Mr B: (tapping desk) Work, here.
T: Guess what happened then.
Mr B: I don't care.
T: I turned it the other way and it went back on. Do you know what happened next?
Mr B: Really not interested. Please do your work.
T: I turned it again and it came off again.
Mr B: T, I don't care.
T: You said you wanted to know.
Mr B: I said I didn't. Please work.
T: Guess what I've got in my pocket.
Mr B: No, please.
T: It's the tap, look.
Mr B: Oh god.

He does mean well, which makes him so difficult to discipline. There aren't even any behavioural issues or diagnosed learning disorders. He's just (and I apply this term very rarely) a bit thick. He wants to be liked and listened to but doesn't have the tools. My patience is thinning, just as his very caring friends are now tiring of his neverending tales of encounters with insecure plumbing. The saddest element of this is that I've realised he seems partially aware of the frustration of those around him. He knows he bores them but he doesn't know why.

My personal bodyguard (whose anger management issues are ongoing) finally lost his rag with T in class the other morning.

W: T, will you just please shut the fuck up!

(Followed by the overturning of tables, W storming from the room, punching the door en route. T is left with red-rimmed eyes and an astonished expression.)

T later tearfully told me:
T: Every teacher I've ever had has picked on me. They always have a go at me. They always say I'm an idiot.
Mr B: (lying) You're not.
T: And that I'll be a dropout.
Mr B: Well, they shouldn't say that.
T: Just because I want to be a boxer.
Mr B: Ok...
T: Did you know my uncle's a world famous boxer?
Mr B: (sighs) You have mentioned it.

And I realised that I was in the tricky position of not wanting to reinforce his negative self-image, but not wanting to encourage his inane chatter. I had to seem that I thought he might always be on the verge of saying something worthwhile, something astonishing, while persuading him to shut up and do his work. He needed to believe that I valued his contributions to class, while learning that he needed to make less of them and leave me alone to occasionally give attention to other students - students who might pass the unit. This is a wire I'm still walking.