River Dee, Cheshire, UK - October, 1997.
On that morrow, sun shone brightly in the air and River Dee flowed as it did. Air was heavy with condensation, humid as a true English day. Three and a half mile away from the bank of the Welsh river stood the pride of Cheshire, the Chester Zoo. It was a famous spot for all of England, perhaps the most famous thing about Chester.
This day was special for many a children but perhaps it was the most special to primary school children from Woodfield Primary enjoyed their trip. Chester was not a big city and Woodfield certainly wasn't the biggest school, so everyone except the Year 1's had come. Ninety eight children from the age of eight to eleven. Unlike most places in the small city, zoo could handle the many children and their chaos. Right then, all the children and the flustered teachers were looking at a Mandrill, a large monkey with a very uniquely colored mug. Brave kids were making faces at the animal, while the shy ones looked ready to bolt. At the back of the crowd stood a boy, much like the other children, he was short and wearing the same uniform. Yet, anyone could see the difference in the way the boy carried himself.
For one, the boy had his hands in his pockets. His teachers had reprimanded him many times but at this point they had learned to ignore it. Next was his expression, it was as frozen as the Mandrill attempting to not rise up to the antics of children. Third was the eyes of the boy, it had a cast of deep sadness and wonder. But who in their right mind would point that out in the boy? It certainly wasn't going to be Chris.
Chris Hale was a man in his mid forties, he had worked all his life in education. There were many things he worried about. Namely that of his pupils or lack thereof. At some point the school had two hundred and fifty children, now it only had hundred and thirty. Things did not look good for the school and Cheshire as a whole, but in terms of the more recent things he had worries too. Namely, it was the boy that he was staring at who himself was staring at the mandrill. Wilfred Price, he was bit of a headache. Boy had never acted his age, always knowing too much and reacting too little.
There was something wrong with his pupil, but he couldn't find a reason to send him off somewhere else. Kid had perfect marks on everything, year four wasn't difficult by any means but he had never asked a question on any topic. He would listen and complete his work and stare out to the window. Only thing the child displayed that was close to normal behavior of children was how he played with the chickens in the yard. He liked feeding them and that was the only thing that seemed innocent about the boy. Wilfred had not tried to talk to other children his age, nor even play with them outside the yard. Other children were like dirt to the boy. Whenever Chris saw the boy, he seemed to carry sadness for the world.
"Have you heard of Harambe?" Wilfred asked out of nowhere, having moved closer suddenly.
#
"Harambe? That Jamaican song? Harambe Harambe Rastaman?" Chris blurted out, that opened a load of embarrassing memories for his sixth form days.
"Oh, I've had no idea." Wilfred seemed disappointed, "Thanks, mate." He said idly before gazing over the lone monkey again.
"Listen 'ere pupils, who wants to go and see some snakes?" Mrs Waine asked, her voice shrill and loud yet only half the children seemed to hear.
Once they were in front of the glass enclosure of a large python in a natural environment, Wilfred spoke up again suddenly.
"You reckon that glass will disappear?" The boy asked, seemingly puzzled.
"Uhh, listen Wilfred. If you have any problems back at home, you can speak to me." Chris started, Wilfred didn't respond so he continued, "If there are any inappropriate touching from your family or something, I can help you. I've seen children with anti-social behaviors like you, please let me help you."
Wilfred's expression finally changed, boy had a flush to his face, embarrassment and anger painting it red. It was the most emotion he had seen the boy show so far.
"There is no inappropriate touching. Ermm— Mr. Hale, I want to make it absolutely clear that my parents are upstanding and fair people… I'm taken aback by your accusation." The boy spoke indignantly, his words far too grown-up for his age.
Chris flushed himself, "Of course, I just had to make sure because it's not very easy to notice. Eh, thanks for letting me know. Ahem, good lad." Chris finished awkwardly.
Wilfred cleared his throat, "No more of such accusations. Thank you and that will be all, Mr. Hale." Boy said and stomped away.
This child had confounded him, but he was relieved to know that, at the very least, things were fine at home. Chris felt guilty for the accusations, even though they had been reasonable. Wilfred had shown an extraordinary mind, with speech and vocabulary far beyond his years. Chris promised himself he would help draw the boy out of his antisocial behaviour.
—✦—
Woodfield Primary School, October 20, 1997
Chris had spoken at length with his staff about Wilfred Price. It was fair to say that nothing about the boy made much sense. His homeroom teacher Mrs. Ramsdale had said that the boy was quick at any task but had attitude problems. Boy had thrown tantrums multiple times over tasks involving fill the blank, arts & crafts and some teamwork activities. Only other teacher who had anything to say about the boy was the music teacher Mrs. Moss. Her report informed that the boy had a good understanding of music and had the best voice in his class. However she had nothing to say on the boy's behavior, having not spoken to the boy except to teach him.
PE teacher for this year was still Mrs. Ramsdale. It was difficult to replace a staff member or even pay for one to work full time for a subject that anyone could teach. With the way the world was shaping out to be, he doubted the role would be filled again for years to come—if the school itself endured at all.
"Could the two of you try challenging Wilfred with additional work? Give advanced tasks for his tests or in your case Mrs. Moss, try to encourage him to sing solo, play instruments. That sort of thing," Chris had said, not being a big music person, "I think the boy is talented and we may be able to get the boy to compete in Olympiads. Start off with the UKMT, could be a good place to get a baseline."
Or at least that was what Chris had suggested and now he was sitting in a conference room, listening to Mrs. Moss go on and on. Mrs. Ramsdale had nodded enthusiastically to most of what Moss was saying.
"Could we do that, do we have any budget for it?" Mrs. Moss asked.
Chris opened a drawer to pull out a budget list for curriculum materials for this year. "You have £75 for study aid and £150 for new instruments."
Elwyn seemed incredibly happy to hear that. "I've always wanted to put on something for the children and make it more exciting." Elwyn said in her Welsh accent that cut off at the end each word in a musical way.
"Putting on a play is frankly a genius idea." Chris complimented her, "I think parents will be happy with it, we need more pupils. Nothing can top a word-of-mouth. If excellent schooling won't get them to bring their kids, maybe more activities will." Chris muttered.
"Wilfred is a dear in his tests, I've been giving him tests each morning. Boy already knows trigonometry! Chris, have you met Mr. Price? He must be an academic of some renown, being five years ahead in studies explains so much of the boy's behavior." Joanna gushed in a similar tone to Elwyn.
"Calm down, Mrs Ramsdale. But you're right, of course. We need to speak to Mr and Mrs Price before we do anything with Wilfred." Chris tried to reassure Joanna.
"It's always exciting when we get the bright kids." Joanna smiled.
"Too true. Always good to see children growing into their talent," Chris said with a chuckle.
"I'll need that budget released to me. My god, I've always wanted to do Oliver! Instead of those stupid Christmas ones!" Elwyn went on.