I’ve been involved for a couple of years now in the delivery of a programme on resilience in my school. It’s one of a number out there in the educational ether which encompass mental health issues and it’s great to see mental health and the wider area of wellbeing becoming embedded within the primary curriculum.
However, life is all about the details. How to negotiate those small, fleeting, day-to-day interactions, and there’s a part of me that would love to let the children in on some home truths which have never made it into any official educational material.
Like the importance of the phrase “Let it soak”. Pupils should really be made aware that days resting on the draining board can have a beneficial impact not only on the burnt bits of this or that, resolutely sticking to the sides of a dish but also on the owner or owners of said dish. They’ve now been given the time and opportunity to come to terms with what this ownership entails and if that means another day or two or three of said dish in situ by the sink, what of it?
And then there’s the approach that is best taken when entering a hotel purely to use its facilities. We’ve all been caught short at some stage and the key here is, of course, to show no fear. Confidence is everything. If eye contact is made with any member of the hotel staff, a calm, steady gaze is what’s called for. I walk to work each day and face this scenario on a regular basis.
Life skills – Fionnuala Ward on essential knowledge
Pavement pinball – Frank McNally on the perils of rush-hour running
All agreed – Frank McNally on the surprise success of a play about the Good Friday Agreement
French connection: Frank McNally on how Percy French continues to unite Ireland, by peaceful means
Happily for me, there’s a very nice hotel on my route and I’ve taken to strolling purposefully in and out when the need arises. And as a bonus their loos are immaculate.
The next recommendation is one I’m almost certain I picked it up from the children themselves. It’s to do with recognising the magical properties of the word “sorry”.
Children figure this out at a very early stage. They know that the use of this word can make an uncomfortable situation go away. Disappear. Pretty much on the spot.
But us grown-ups have taken a different tact. We view its invocation as a sign of weakness, as often as not to the point of open warfare over the dumbest of things.
Years ago now, I fell heir to a list of items to be completed when a colleague was away.
One by one, I crossed these items off a scrappy piece of paper and was determined to get through them all as soon as possible. One involved meeting with a parent who, as it turned out, failed to show up at the agreed time. I spotted her by the gate and hurried to make contact. It wasn’t today, she informed me. No such arrangement was in place.
She was persuaded, however, to come back to the office but her reluctance was palpable and there was a definite note of resentment in the air. She clearly was having a stressful day but I needed this meeting to happen and to happen as amicably as possible.
Once we were both ensconced within, therefore, I made a point of apologising profusely.
To be honest, I had no idea whose fault it was – mine, hers, my colleague’s – and I cared even less. She defused almost immediately. It was as if the breath had re-entered her body. The chill in the atmosphere dispelled and 20 minutes later, we could both get on with our lives.
And finally, when pressing that button to cross the road, once is enough. Honestly. You may feel that pressing it three, four, five times in quick succession will quicken the process but it won’t. You are entirely fooling yourself and into the bargain exposing yourself as someone with a limited understanding of the basic tools of urban living. That green figure will light up when it lights up. Believe me.
And that’s it.
Although, wait. Now that I think of it, I have one more. A substitute teacher was working in one of the infant classes a few months ago. He’s retired with loads of experience and is in the enviable position of doing bits and pieces when the time is right. One of the children approached and wanted to know if he was “old”.
He was indeed, the teacher replied.
“So are you close to dying?” the child inquired. A not unreasonable question which could have given rise to a rich existential discussion.
All things considered, though, best unsaid.
In casual, informal interactions like this, probably best to stick to the weather.