How I found the best of humanity in a school written off as ‘where all the scum kids are’

Last week, I got in a taxi on my way to visit a school. After I directed the driver, without a second’s hesitation – or knowing whether I was a parent or a teacher – he said, “where all the scum kids are”. I was so shocked and flustered, all I managed to say was that I really liked the kids, they were great. As always, you come up with the pithy one-liner you wished you’d said five minutes too late.

The journey was silent after that, and I was angry on the young people’s behalf. They live in the country we, including the taxi driver, created. They aren’t responsible for the deprivation or poverty that so many of them survive in, nor the drug and alcohol problems that blight some of their families. The school is loved by many of the kids, where the teachers go above and beyond to help them thrive.

I met with a group of the young people and I was taken aback by how articulate they were. I couldn’t remember being so engaged at 20, far less 12. They talked about the challenges of mobile phones and social media, the curriculum and of fellow students unable to learn in traditional ways who can be disruptive. They talked about the desire to have running, chess and other clubs to help them develop. Most of all, they told me how they felt safe, had friends and that they all had named teachers they could go to for help and advice. They felt supported and pushed to work hard and achieve.

Children should not be burdened with hostile attitudes because they live in a deprived area (Picture: Matthew Horwood/Getty Images)

Hard not to smile

Despite this, all the kids mentioned negative views of the area and their school. They felt it keenly and were at pains to point out it was misplaced and unfair. What a burden to put on these young people, to label and other them, without knowing or understanding them or their lives.

This school has done so much to keep everyone safe. Phone use is a rare exception in their classes, and toilets and communal spaces are secure and calm. The teachers shared their students’ enthusiasm and told me about new topics to the curriculum prompted by conversations with the pupils. Witnessing their commitment to change It was hard to come away without a smile.

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I have always disliked the publishing of Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation data, which is used to highlight to communities how deprived their area is. It should be used to shame public servants and others about how we have let people down. Instead, it’s more often used to shame those who live there. It’s always deficit-based, and never about the good that also happens, generated by the people who live there and know it best.

The taxi driver’s comment was that approach writ large. In ten seconds and six words, he painted a damning image of a school full of ‘feral’ children. But what I found was a community of adults and kids, working to do their best in a difficult situation, not of their making. What I witnessed was the best of humanity, a world away from the tabloid-esque vision which makes it easier to write people off, rather than engaging with them to make things better.

Karyn McCluskey is chief executive of Community Justice Scotland