When CAMHS fails, the classroom becomes the front line

It was when the student walked slowly behind me that I felt most intensely afraid. We were almost through the lesson; it wasn’t a particularly exciting lesson, that’s true, but that wasn’t any reason to act like this. The student had closed his book a few moments before and pushed it away from himself on the desk. He then stood, silently, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He was static for a second, as if listening for something no one else could hear. This young man had not been formally diagnosed but had all the behaviour patterns of schizophrenia with paranoia.

Schizophrenia is a label that can still strike alarm. Newspaper headlines scream it freely, then sell copies on the back of stories about yet another stabbing in the street. It’s an alarming diagnosis. Imagine a doctor telling you that about yourself. Imagine you’re confused by what is going on. People are looking at you and talking. They must be plotting against you. Everyone wants to hurt you, even the doctors. And inside a voice is telling you to act, or something terrible will happen.

The fear that stirs in you then is bound to force anger to the surface, anger that is always a secondary emotion to help us keep powerlessness or fear or shame at bay. The teacher is right there; the focus of the room. He’s the target now. The teacher knows that someone suffering with such a problem is most of all dangerous to themselves. But right here in this classroom, this situation is undeniably dangerous to me.