Smile

Today, Lovely didn't smile at me. She's so sweet and cheerful, I have trouble even thinking of a name for her, so let's just call her Lovely. Lovely didn't smile, so something was up. I asked if she was ok, and she shrugged. She didn't put her hand up all lesson, so I asked again and she shook her head, and muttered 'Home problems'. I commented that that sounded tough, and she just nodded, so I left it.

At the end, she hung around a little, so I asked if she wanted to chat. She said yes, and when the others had gone, she pulled up a chair. I handed her an emergency chocolate biscuit and she burst into tears. Disclosures came thick and fast. Suffice it to say, she's a young carer for the only other two members of her household, and has been managing this for years. When  I asked why she chose to tell someone today, after so long, she said she was 'just feeling tired'. I think that speaks to the responsibility she bears, and it seems impossibly sad.

I passed on all the messages that sort of thing requires, and lots of different systems are jumping into place now she's told someone. There were violence issues, so Child Protection are involved, and so is the school counsellor and young carers worker. I'm not - all I'm supposed to do is pass it on.

This is my third major disclosure so far this year, and someone commented that I 'get them all', and asked why. I don't think I do anything special, but what I do do is notice, and ask. I like the fact that I'm there at the coalface with teenagers, when they're going through those awful ages, and that I can notice the differences and patterns that signal a problem, and get involved. I like it because it's real and raw and it makes a difference to them, and I didn't cry on Lovely, or when I reported it, but I cried all the way home.