<p>Your columnist’s first encounter with professional counselling took place near the corner of a football field. He had been caught smoking. This was not an attempt to respond to hidden emotional distress. He was smoking because somebody had produced a cigarette and at that age few invitations appeared more sophisticated. Sadly, the offence was detected immediately. There was no investigation into the social pressures that had led to the incident nor did anyone ask whether tobacco had become a coping mechanism. Your columnist was promptly dispatched to the principal’s office, where he received three benders on his buttocks and a firm suggestion that he should reconsider his habits. The counselling was remarkably effective. He never made the same mistake again, rather he never again made the mistake of getting caught. </p><p>Schools have changed since then, largely for the better, though not always in ways that an older generation fully understands. A pupil caught smoking today would probably be referred to a counsellor. There might be a discussion about peer pressure or emotional triggers and the need to create a supportive environment in which the child feels safe enough to make better choices. The modern school takes the inner life of the child extremely seriously. There are counsellors and emotional support programmes. This is a considerable advance over the old system, in which emotional support usually consisted of being told to stop crying before somebody gave you something to really cry about. Yet the contrast is striking. Earlier generations were expected to adjust themselves to the institution. The institution is now expected to adjust itself to every passing mood of the child. </p><p>In the old days, a note from the principal produced terror across the household. The child first hid it and eventually handed it over shortly before bedtime. Today, a note from school may explain that a pupil experienced a moment of emotional malfunction after being asked why his homework had not been completed. The parents may then write back to ask whether the homework itself was appropriate. None of this is to mock genuine emotional distress. Children can face anxiety, bullying and pressures that adults frequently underestimate. A good counsellor may notice what an impatient teacher or distracted parent misses. Schools are right to take mental health seriously and professional treatment, including medication when properly prescribed, can be essential in suitable cases. </p><p>The oddity begins when every disappointment is treated as damage or every reprimand as aggression. Life, unfortunately, has not joined the wellness movement. It continues to contain unreasonable bosses, delayed flights, failed ventures, broken relationships, bad investments and people who reply to long emails with the word “Noted”. A school cannot prepare children for every difficulty, but it can help them discover that discomfort is survivable. A poor examination result might occasionally mean the examination was unfair, but it may also mean the textbook remained unopened. The older system certainly went too far. Fear was frequently mistaken for respect. There was little room for the shy child or the child facing problems at home. A generation learned resilience, but some of it was acquired unnecessarily and at considerable cost. </p><p>The present system attempts something kinder. Its danger is not kindness itself, but kindness without proportion. A child who is never firmly reprimanded may struggle when the wider world fails to appreciate his context. Employers are not always trained in restorative dialogue. Perhaps the ideal lies somewhere between the principal’s cane and the counsellor’s couch. Your columnist does not particularly miss the three benders. But he remembers the lesson. Smoking was foolish, authority was real and getting caught carried consequences. The final insight, incidentally, proved the most useful of all! </p>
<p>Your columnist’s first encounter with professional counselling took place near the corner of a football field. He had been caught smoking. This was not an attempt to respond to hidden emotional distress. He was smoking because somebody had produced a cigarette and at that age few invitations appeared more sophisticated. Sadly, the offence was detected immediately. There was no investigation into the social pressures that had led to the incident nor did anyone ask whether tobacco had become a coping mechanism. Your columnist was promptly dispatched to the principal’s office, where he received three benders on his buttocks and a firm suggestion that he should reconsider his habits. The counselling was remarkably effective. He never made the same mistake again, rather he never again made the mistake of getting caught. </p><p>Schools have changed since then, largely for the better, though not always in ways that an older generation fully understands. A pupil caught smoking today would probably be referred to a counsellor. There might be a discussion about peer pressure or emotional triggers and the need to create a supportive environment in which the child feels safe enough to make better choices. The modern school takes the inner life of the child extremely seriously. There are counsellors and emotional support programmes. This is a considerable advance over the old system, in which emotional support usually consisted of being told to stop crying before somebody gave you something to really cry about. Yet the contrast is striking. Earlier generations were expected to adjust themselves to the institution. The institution is now expected to adjust itself to every passing mood of the child. </p><p>In the old days, a note from the principal produced terror across the household. The child first hid it and eventually handed it over shortly before bedtime. Today, a note from school may explain that a pupil experienced a moment of emotional malfunction after being asked why his homework had not been completed. The parents may then write back to ask whether the homework itself was appropriate. None of this is to mock genuine emotional distress. Children can face anxiety, bullying and pressures that adults frequently underestimate. A good counsellor may notice what an impatient teacher or distracted parent misses. Schools are right to take mental health seriously and professional treatment, including medication when properly prescribed, can be essential in suitable cases. </p><p>The oddity begins when every disappointment is treated as damage or every reprimand as aggression. Life, unfortunately, has not joined the wellness movement. It continues to contain unreasonable bosses, delayed flights, failed ventures, broken relationships, bad investments and people who reply to long emails with the word “Noted”. A school cannot prepare children for every difficulty, but it can help them discover that discomfort is survivable. A poor examination result might occasionally mean the examination was unfair, but it may also mean the textbook remained unopened. The older system certainly went too far. Fear was frequently mistaken for respect. There was little room for the shy child or the child facing problems at home. A generation learned resilience, but some of it was acquired unnecessarily and at considerable cost. </p><p>The present system attempts something kinder. Its danger is not kindness itself, but kindness without proportion. A child who is never firmly reprimanded may struggle when the wider world fails to appreciate his context. Employers are not always trained in restorative dialogue. Perhaps the ideal lies somewhere between the principal’s cane and the counsellor’s couch. Your columnist does not particularly miss the three benders. But he remembers the lesson. Smoking was foolish, authority was real and getting caught carried consequences. The final insight, incidentally, proved the most useful of all! </p>
