Normally, the teacher didn’t discuss his coping methods with anybody.
However, his fellow teacher and friendly colleague had shown such genuine interest that he agreed to discuss it with her, after school hours. He had emphasised that for reasons that would become clear, he needed to be assured by her that she would treat everything in the strictest confidence. She had agreed. At the appointed time she appeared at the door of his classroom, keen to get the inside story on how to handle the youngsters who exhibited the very worst kinds of behaviour. She had never been in his classroom and stood looking around before knocking. It looked like any other room, except for a large wooden box that sat in the far corner. She tapped and he looked up from notes he was making. He smiled, welcoming her in.
He got up and immediately took her to the box. He was obviously proud of it and enthusiastically told her he called it his ‘naughty box’. “It’s a simple enough procedure,” he began. “If a child pays up badly, they have to spend time in here.” He walked to the side and pointed. She followed and saw the door. “This is where they go in,” he said, opening the door. He pointed. She stooped a little and peered inside. She could see a small chair with a low table in front of it. The table had a large, red button set in the middle. He moved forward and closed the door. He stood for a moment caressing the side of it.
She stood back to look it over. “I take it you built this yourself?’
“Yes,” he said, nodding, obviously pleased with himself.
“And? You were going to explain how it works,” she said, with growing curiosity.
“Oh! Of course, yes. Well, the principle is simple enough. Basically,” he explained, “this method works best with troublemakers who simply never do what they are told. With them, it works every time. If a child misbehaves during the lesson they are told that they have to sit for ten minutes in the ‘naughty box’. They are expressly forbidden to touch the button and in no circumstances are they allowed to press it.”
“OK,” she said softly, encouraging him to go on.
“They are told that if they press the button they will disappear, for ever.”
The woman takes on a quizzical look and asks, “Does it work?”
“Absolutely, they are never seen again.”
“Never seen again?” she repeats.
“Never,” he assures her. “The bad ones, I mean the really bad ones, you can rely on them every time.” With a broad smile, he said, “They never come back.”