No Place for Nathan: A True Short Story. Casey Watson

Jim’s face, kicked his chair over and walked casually out of the classroom.

      We stared at each other, stunned, as the sound of Nathan’s footsteps faded, both of us wondering if what had just happened had really taken place. It wasn’t that the exchange itself was anything shocking – we’d both heard much more colourful language – it was just the completely random, unprovoked nature of it that flummoxed us, so much so that for a few minutes we could manage nothing more grown-up than a five-minute fit of the giggles. ‘Well,’ observed Jim, when we finally pulled ourselves together, ‘nice to know I’ve made a good impression, anyway!’

      Though I wrote up the notes I’d made on Nathan over the weekend, I returned to work on Monday morning still at a loss to understand my new charge, who seemed to have no clear triggers, or continuity, to his various behaviours. Often it was clear – the attention-seeking bully with the minuscule self-esteem, or the child who lacked empathy due to never having formed solid bonds. But in Nathan’s case it seemed such a rag-bag of different issues that it was difficult to know where to start.

      But wherever I did start, it seemed I’d be starting early. I arrived at my usual time – a good 45 minutes before the children were due to be there – to find him waiting in the corridor outside my classroom. Having the children in school early wasn’t unusual – one of the new initiatives Jim and I had put in place being a breakfast club – but Nathan obviously wasn’t interested in eating food.

      He looked his same dishevelled self and seemed very pleased to see me. I smiled at him. ‘Morning, sweetie,’ I said. ‘You’re early.’

      ‘Morning, Miss,’ he said brightly. ‘You look beautiful today. And I love that,’ he added, pointing to the jade-coloured glittery scarf I had threaded beneath the lapels of my black jacket.

      ‘Thank you, Nathan,’ I said, unlocking and opening the classroom door. ‘That’s very nice of you. And now you’re going to have to find something to amuse yourself with as I have to get some work organised for you all for today.’

      ‘Could I make something?’ he asked. ‘You know, from the art box?’

      I told him he could. ‘But only on condition that you tidy everything away nicely before the others get here, okay?’

      I thought of bringing up his inexplicable outburst at Jim the previous Friday, but decided against it, something telling me that now wasn’t the moment. To start the week the way the previous one had ended, with a flare-up and acrimony, didn’t seem the best way to proceed.

      Instead I left him to it and went to my desk to start preparing the day’s activities, but after around 10 or 15 minutes I became distracted by Nathan, who’d previously been rummaging around and cutting things up in silence, beginning to chatter to himself.

      At first I thought he was just providing himself with a running commentary, but the rhythm sounded funny, and I pricked up my ears. Yes, I was hearing right, he was engaged in a conversation – a two-way conversation he was having with himself. And using markedly different voices, as well: one high-pitched, the other lower. I wasn’t sure what he’d been making, but he was bent over his desk and appeared to be putting something on and off his head.

      I got up from my chair and walked over to him so I could get a closer look, but he was side-on to me and obviously so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn’t seem to notice my approach. It was now even clearer that his dialogue was between a male and a female, who seemed to be involved in some sort of argument. And as I stood and watched – he still seemed oblivious to my proximity – I realised that every time the female character was speaking, he was putting whatever he’d made on his head. The penny dropped shortly afterwards – he’d made himself a wig. It was a band of white card to which he’d attached several long strips of yellow sugar paper, and which he was now balancing on his head as a crude hairpiece.

      ‘Are you okay, Nathan?’ I asked, wondering what the discussion was about.

      He turned to me and smiled, holding the wig so it didn’t slip off. ‘Yes, Miss,’ he said. ‘Everything is fine, thank you.’

      ‘What’s that on your head?’ I asked.

      ‘Oh, it’s just my hair, Miss. I think I have to be Jenny today and she has long blonde hair.’

      ‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Was that Jenny you were just talking to?’

      He giggled girlishly. ‘No, Miss. I told you. I am Jenny, can’t you tell?’

      ‘Ah –’ I began.

      ‘– and I was speaking to Jack,’ he explained. ‘He wants to be my boyfriend but I told him I am not a dirty girl. So I won’t be his girlfriend and that’s that.’

      I was confused now. ‘So where has Nathan gone?’ I asked him.

      He giggled again. ‘Oh, Miss, you are funny. I’m right here!’ He beamed at me then. ‘I love you, Miss, and I am so glad it’s Monday,’ he announced, jumping up then and throwing his arms tightly around my waist.

      I hugged him briefly, then gently prised his arms from around me, crouching down as I did so to talk to him. ‘Good,’ I said, ‘but listen, it’s time to tidy these things away now.’

      ‘Okay,’ he said, and duly began gathering the paper and scissors and glue up.

      ‘And Nathan,’ I added, ‘you’ll need to put your hair in your drawer as well.’

      ‘But I want to wear it, Miss! I told you, I need to be Jenny today.’

      I began helping him pop things back into the box. ‘Nathan, I’m sorry, but you can’t wear your hair in school. I mean, it’s fine if it’s just you and me, but not when the others are around. The big boys might laugh at you, mightn’t they? And we don’t want that, do we?’

      He spent a few seconds considering this, and I wondered if I should be braced for a small explosion. But it seemed not. ‘Okay, Miss,’ he said, ‘I’ll take it off as soon as I’ve finished tidying up.’ Which he duly did, clearing the desk and putting the box back in its corner, before taking his wig off and placing it very carefully in his drawer.

      With such a lot to think about, I took the opportunity to go and grab a coffee from the staff room and see what else I could find out when Jim arrived and was able to take the reins in the Unit. Did Nathan have some mental health issues or did he just have an overactive imagination? I was no psychologist, but there was clearly something psychological going on. He was clearly inhabiting multiple characters – so did that mean he had multiple personalities too? It would certainly fit in with the sometimes inexplicable about-turns in his mood and behaviour – was he acting out different people? Playing different roles as a coping mechanism? There was obviously a lot I needed to learn about this child if I was going to be in a position to get him back into the mainstream.