La intolerancia también diversifica lo que en los niños es “amistad” de lo que es “complicidad”. La amistad está hecha de tolerancia, de aceptación, de maduración. Aceptar al otro tal cual es, requiere sentirse igual a él, sentirse seguro.
Complicity thrives on feelings of inferiority or insignificance. (…) Exploited children, so insecure about forming bonds, seek accomplices. Conversely, they are capable of forming deep and intimate bonds with a dog, a mouse, or some animal that allows them to feel safe, in control. It is especially then that they demonstrate exquisite tenderness and respect—a tenderness and respect that adults are usually unable to even suspect.
– Nobody's Cubs / Enrique Martínez Reguera-
Last year I was assigned to teach at a high school in the province of Huesca, in an area that two decades ago had been a major industrial center in Aragon, but which is now in a precarious economic situation. Many families have lost their main source of income, leading to a sense of failure reflected in increased drug use, alcoholism, and family conflicts.
Although academic motivation was generally very low in the first years of secondary school, there was one student, whom we will call "S," who stood out from the rest. The day he arrived at the school, he punched a classmate in the nose, fracturing it. This student was expelled repeatedly, but his violent and defiant attitude towards his classmates and teachers did not change.
The teachers' response was almost always the same: punishments and expulsions. His teachers had decided by consensus that he would sit separately from the rest of the classmates he had intimidated.
In the spring, a classmate, knowing I cared about animals, came to the teachers' lounge and said, "Diego, come quick, S found a chick in the playground." Assuming S was mistreating the chick, I rushed out to the playground, ready for a heated argument with S, since I knew he'd be confrontational. However, when I got to the playground, I saw S sitting on the ground, carefully holding the chick and staring at it with glassy eyes. S looked at us and said in a heartfelt voice, "It's going to die."
Neither my colleague nor I could believe what we were seeing. I'm used to seeing children who are respectful to their peers and have fun putting firecrackers in lizards' mouths, but I'd never seen children who are violent towards humans and so careful with animals.
A few days earlier, a few meters from where S had found the chick, there was a tree where he had seen a dove incubating its nest. I told S that the chick must have fallen from that nest and that the best thing we could do was try to climb the tree and leave it there so its mother could return to feed and incubate it. S volunteered immediately. When he came down, I told him, “S, you should know that you’ve saved a life.” He replied, “And it’s not the first one I’ve saved.”
I recently read a fascinating book about children with disruptive behaviors titled "Nobody's Cubs" by Enrique Martínez Reguera, and immediately afterwards I read another by the same author, "Rowing Against the Current," which have helped me understand why S acts that way.
S's parents came from Bulgaria when he was a baby, completely severing ties with the rest of their family. Shortly after arriving in Huesca, his father abandoned the family, leaving his mother, who was about 15 years old at the time, to care for her son alone, without support from her parents, cousins, grandparents, or aunts and uncles. With her precarious jobs that took up practically her entire day, she had no time to look after her son.
S would soon understand that his situation was different from that of the other children. He didn't have a family and therefore felt disadvantaged in the competitive environment of our society, an environment that some teachers fostered in the classroom. His insecurity and this competitive atmosphere would generate a lack of interest in school. Meanwhile, the feeling of loneliness and the lack of family support would generate a sense of hostility toward his surroundings, which would be reflected in his aggressive behavior.
He would try to get attention, seeking the attention he lacked at home, and to do so, he needed to stand out. But since he felt incapable of standing out for being "good," he would have to stand out for being "bad," through an attitude that, at the same time, reflected an environment he perceived as threatening. The teachers' response would be punishment, thus increasing the hostility he felt toward them. Teachers, other students' parents, classmates, and even his own mother labeled him "a bad boy" to the point that he himself would come to accept his status as bad, dangerous, and antisocial.
When faced with a case like this, teachers must know how to assign responsibility for these attitudes. A child's behavior is a product of both the child themselves and their environment. We can assign responsibility to the child as a child, and we—the adults—must assign responsibility to their environment. We cannot forget that these attitudes stem from deep inner turmoil and reflect their status as victims in a society that has no place for them. Therefore, these behaviors cannot be classified solely as a threat; they must also be interpreted as a cry for help.
We must try to make them feel integrated into the group and look for ways – such as using cooperative work instead of competitive work, posing challenges that they are capable of solving – to increase their self-confidence and help them begin to see the classroom as a favorable environment.
It should come as no surprise that these children often act aggressively toward humans, in whom they have lost trust, while showing complete respect for other animals. And we can use this sense of empathy toward non-human animals both to help disruptive children and to benefit animals.