Behind locked doors

We often rail against the condition of our schools, their inability to turn out reasonably educated students after the school  has had the little darlings under their educational roof for 9/10 years. How can it be that so many of them can't read and write properly, have no concept of discipline or responsibility.
Of course I am generalising. The mass of students come away from school with a reasonable level of proficiency, not especially good when compared to other countries who we should be comparing ourselves with but never the less they go on to lead balanced lives. There is, never the less a sediment, a pool of very poor uneducated children  which one has to ask, with all the time and resources how so little progress they have made since entering school at 5.
We have to believe in the innate good within each youngster, that there is no evil gene which distorts their mental growth which turns them into creatures of the night.
We believe in nurture and the importance parenting brings to the development of the child. How love can build bridges in the cognitive thinking process and develop layers of experience which the child uses as it formulates its response to each situation.
Yesterday I was in a school which deals with disturbed children. Kids who are too disruptive to be schooled in a mainstream school.
The school has its own security system with doors segregating the administration from the school its self. I was on one side of a locked door, with a small reinforced window so I could see through. One boy, about 14 came sidling up to the opposite side of the door expecting me to open it. When I shook my head he lurched at me from the other side with true hatred and venom, his eyes momentarily  rolled back as if unconscious, perhaps an anger seizure what ever but for that moment he was out of control. It was like being on the other side of a cage separating and protecting you from the  animal which springs at you, part of its natural reaction to another species.
He then slyly slipped into another room to hide like a furtive creature and I was able to attract the attention of a teacher to fetch him out and escort him back to where the other students were.
A number of things spring to mind.
In that moment of frustration he had no control, he was very dangerous probably incapable of reason, a time bomb waiting to explode. Meet him in a dark street and he would have no compunction but to harm you.
The other significant thing was that the teacher didn't remonstrate or attempt to discipline him rather he simply corralled him back along the corridor. The boy saw another teacher a woman who he embraced as if in friendship and she allowed the interaction without any sense of surprise.
It's as if the teachers are determined that discipline in the normal sense of the word has little or no value and collaboration and bridge building is the only way to form a connection with this troubled, feral individual.
Who knows the beatings or the violence he has seen and experienced as he grew up. Another beating would be of no consequence but perhaps a measure of friendship even love might unlock some of the cord, some enlightenment  in his make up which we thankfully take for granted.
I take my proverbial hat off to people who attempt to teach these damaged kids. Each one is a problem in their own right, each one is a mixture of good and bad. Each one has their own life story and the dedication of the teacher to work in such an environment is truly mind boggling.