An Irish Diary

Call-and-response of duty: Fionnuala Ward on class acts

Attention and intention

In primary schools, there is a lot of call-and-response. “One, two!” followed by a group rejoinder of “Eyes on you!” Photograph: Getty Images

Tue Oct 18 2022 - 10:43

There’s a definite skill to managing a crowd, to attracting and holding its attention. In primary schools, this translates into a lot of call-and-response. “One, two!” followed by a group rejoinder of “Eyes on you!”, or “Flat tyre” when the class makes a sssshing sound, or “Macaroni and cheese” where the pupils respond with a spirited “Everyone freeze!” That sort of thing. It doesn’t always work but it’s much less exhausting than raising your voice or engaging in bouts of frenzied shushing or the frantic clapping of hands, although that’s not to say that those strategies don’t come into play as well.

Of course, call-and-response has its place in the adult world as well. Years ago, I was at a launch of sorts one Tuesday morning. A re-launch, in truth, as all evidence indicated that the initiative in question had been launched some time before and was already well on its way to the horizon. But the organisers were a shrewd bunch. The American civil rights leader Rev Jesse Jackson was in town and someone, somewhere, had made contact and extracted a commitment. So invitations were sent out and sure enough, a substantial crowd gathered for the event.

Jesse stood up and once the obligatory pleasantries had been dispensed with, addressed us as a group.

“There is a garden,” he bellowed and then waited.

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We sat there rigid. Not sure what to do.

“Repeat after me,” he commanded. “There is a garden.”

We muttered our response.

He continued. “And in this garden, there is a wall. A WALL!”

“A wall”, we replied in our repressed Irish kind of way.

It turned out that on one side of the wall – the side we needed to get to – were flowers and trees and all kinds of nice things and on the other, pretty much nothing. And it was our job to get over this wall as loudly and enthusiastically as possible. So for about 10 minutes we did our best to do just that. But we were no Baptist congregation.

Jesse grew exasperated. There were any number of “AGAIN!”s. The group quickly divided in two. There were those who went with the spirit of the thing and there were those who really wanted to but just couldn’t. It was too early in the day and it was too excruciating. Sadly, this was my group.

By the time we got over that wall, we were all exhausted – that first group, that second group, and Jesse.

But in schools, call-and-response has been tailored to the needs of the classroom and for the most part is short and snappy and a really useful tool to have in the armory.

After all, children are masters at reading a situation. At catching someone off-guard. At realising that a conversation they’re having with a buddy has gone unnoticed and therefore deciding to bring in the group beside them or behind them or on the other side of the room. It’s as though they can sense blood in the water.

Young children figure out very quickly that interacting with the world around them is first and foremost about reading the grown-up in the room. From the wailing junior infant resolutely clinging to a parent, who then matter-of-factly reaches for the building bricks or jigsaw once that parent is out of sight to the class as a whole, earnestly explaining to the substitute teacher that they are allowed free rein with the art materials, that lunch happens for 20 minutes both before and after break, and that PE is scheduled every that-particular-day.

You have to admire them.

Evolutionarily speaking, their survival tactics are beyond reproach. And anyway, are we – sophisticated adults that we are – really that different? A friend and principal recently told the story of being overcome by a wave of despair. She felt exhausted and overwhelmed and retreated to her office for respite.

Two children appeared at the door. They’d been sent down for a reprimand.

“Are you having a bad day?” she inquired. They were.

“So am I”, she confided, “which is why I’m hiding in here.”

Naturally enough, they perked up at this.

“I think we should all just hide in here for a little bit,” she continued, to which they had no objection.

And so they sat in my friend’s office and regaled her with stories of school life which, of course, did her no end of good.

“Now, don’t look too happy going back,” she admonished, “or you’ll give me away.”

And to their credit, they didn’t. Although they probably had the tiniest spring in their step as they slipped back into their classroom and whenever the next “One, two” was unleashed by their teacher, they no doubt gave that “Eyes on you!” their absolute all.

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