When I was a boy I was often found sitting on my own somewhere. Actually, I was often not found, because I was quite keen to be undisturbed. I think I was OK, but I enjoyed having time to think big thoughts. One day, aged seven, I was lying under the big tree in the garden, wearing my favourite shoes for the last time. They had become too painful to wear, because my feet had grown. There I lay, looking up into the branches, wondering about whether my mum would be able to find me an identical pair of shoes. Suddenly my reverie was broken by a rustling in the trees. My dad later explained to me, as he washed my hair, that in some parts of the world what had happened to me is considered to be a sign of good luck.

After that I taught myself to climb the tree, so I could sit up there watching the world go by.

Later my dad told me, as he said goodbye to the policeman who had just visited us, that I should consider myself lucky that none of my spit had actually landed on anyone’s head.

When I was 15 I skipped school. As soon as I left the school gates, in my uniform, I realised I was a marked man, so headed for the playing fields and lay on my back in the long grass, watching the clouds being pushed across the sun and leaving moving shadows on the ground as the grass rustled in the breeze. I was thinking big thoughts again: like why does every banging rock album have to have a ‘deep and meaningful’ song on side two, that is so bad that you have to get up, take the stylus out of the groove and drop it onto the next track. Here is probably the worst example:

Changes: How could Sabbath be so cruel to the world?

Well maybe that’s not the worst example. Ozzie was later to record the same ghastly song with daughter Kelly. And how could The Stones, the band that gave us Honky Tonk Women and Brown Sugar, unleash Angie on a totally unsuspecting fan base? And what was Getting In Tune by The Who doing on side two of Who’s Next?

Then there was Rubber Soul by The Beatles. Rolling Stone Magazine rates it as the fifth best album of all time. Back then, three years after The Beatles had finally called it a day, I was still puzzled by In My Life: John Lennon’s song of nostalgia for the Liverpool he grew up in.

In my life: The Beatles. Now I get it.

In our own adolescent fashion, I think us boys discussed these musical conundrums as a way of safely giving voice to our worries about emotions, the future and relationships. If you talked openly about your longings for mutually rewarding emotional conjunction with a nice girl, you were likely to get your head kicked in. So slagging off Ozzie and the rest of Black Sabbath for singing ‘I’m unhappy/I feel so sad /I lost the best friend that I ever had/ She was my woman/ I loved her so/ But it’s too late now/ I’ve let her go/ I’m going through changes’ was a safe way of broaching the subject of emotional turmoil. One boring Sunday afternoon, in my solitary ramblings around the school, I met a guy playing Changes on the piano and singing mournfully. I snuck up on him and asked him why he was playing the song: “It’s just how I feel man. Right now I feel like my whole personality is turning 180 degrees. You’ll feel the same when you’re 16 and a half.”

I was so moved by this experience that I told my friends. They kicked the guy’s head in.

But I had more perplexing problems on my 15-year-old mind, as I lay in the grass. How was I going to meet Lesley Duncan and get her to marry me? My older brother had convinced me that this new singer called Elton John was going to be an international sensation, and that I should forget The Beatles and The Stones and Black Sabbath and shell out £2.80 (20p off my entire pocket money allowance for the term) on Tumbleweed Connection. I thought it was indeed awesome. (My brother had decided, as soon as I had bought it, that maybe it wasn’t as good as he had thought, and maybe this new band called The Eagles were going to be the next big thing. He later said the same about Bob Marley, Donna Summer, Dire Straits, The Clash and The Police. His predictions about Mary Hopkin and Chicory Tip conquering the world were oddly incorrect.)

I liked Tumbleweed Connection. And I absolutely LOVED Love Song. This was to prove to be one of the few songs that Elton recorded or performed that was not his own composition. And it was written by a girl!! I did some research about Lesley Duncan (there was no Wikipedia in those days, so it meant spending hours scouring back issues of Melody Maker). Not only was she the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but her voice was like honey and reminded me of a Welsh mountain stream running over stones on a misty morning (I was only 15, so please give me a break). Over the next couple of months I scraped together enough money to get two of Lesley’s albums, and even had a mad idea to run away from home and see her live at The Reading Festival (which, apparently, was not a huge success. By all accounts she suffered terribly from stage fright and the crowd did not take kindly to her after having been built up to a beer-crazed frenzy by the mighty Status Quo and Uriah Heep.)

Lesley Duncan It’s a little bit funny…

Lesley went on to sing backing vocals on Dark Side of the Moon, and various other classic albums. But while Elton wore glitter and high heels and moved to LA, Lesley withdrew from the music biz and went to live a quiet life, wearing sensible sweaters on the Isle of Mull.

Where is this going? In two directions really. The first path is a familiar one for regular readers: there’s nothing wrong with being quiet. Many children are quiet, or have the need for quiet moments. I liked the rough and tumble of being in school, but also benefited from lessons where I could think my own thoughts, even though I was surrounded by lots of other children. These lessons were called ‘story writing’ or ‘quiet reading’.

The second path is to flag up a new film that I just can’t wait to see. Boyhood is directed by Richard Linklater, and is probably totally unique in cinema history, as he has filmed it over a 12-year period, using the same actors. The film is loosely based on his own childhood, and traces the outer and inner life of a young boy growing through adolescence and into young adulthood. And guess what… the little fellow was quite thoughtful and prone to needing time on his own, to think big thoughts. Maybe there’s a scene where a pigeon drops something on him as he is lying under a tall tree. I’m really looking forward to seeing this film.

Take care out there

Michael

What has that got to do with helping quiet children? Please bear with me… I heard Glenn on the radio, talking about his early life and influences, as I was driving down to meet Barbara Allen-Williams, founder of the National Centre for High Sensitivity.

Children and adults who are Highly Sensitive can be described as experiencing the world through their senses in a way that is more highly acute than other people. While in some circumstances this can be an advantage, in others- and particularly in school- it can be a big problem. Schools are noisy places that are designed to be highly stimulating. Children with High Sensitivity often become quickly overloaded with sensations, and can respond by becoming overactive or very quiet.

With Barbara’s help, I was able to explore the possibility that some children might be very quiet in school -to the point that they have become silent- because they have High Sensitivity. Their silence in school may be a response to a heightened sensitivity to sound, smell, touch and taste. Barbara explained that many children with High Sensitivity find relief by being in their own company. They may also like to explore ideas and interests in a lot more depth than most children.

Which brings me to Glenn Tilbrook of Squeeze. When he was a child he had a great interest in music. As a teenager he was fascinated by vinyl records: not just the sounds that came from them, but their feel and even their smell. I’m not saying that he has High Sensitivity, but he certainly was highly involved in vinyl, and eventually was able to use his passion for music and pop to become a successful songwriter and performer. He also described how his young son responds very enthusiastically to music, and how music is likely to be a huge passion for him.

Now I am not saying that silent children with High Sensitivity are all budding prodigies. What I am suggesting is that if we are working with very quiet children who have particular interests, then we should help them to explore these interests. This can be especially useful if we can find other children with similar passions (and passion is the right word!). We can also help them to express themselves by encouraging them to share their ideas creatively.

This is where we introduce TED. That stands for ‘Technology, Entertainment, Design’ (but has also been described as ‘Think, Exchange, Debate’). These are a series of talks, available free online from innovators in a given field (otherwise known as ‘Riveting talks by remarkable people, free to the world’).

Children in Year 5 at Soho Parish Primary School, Westminster have been encouraged to share their passions by creating their own ‘TED talks’. These have been many and varied, including Lego, Why boys should be involved in ballet, skateboarding, Stephen Fry, and my favourite…. Mr Bean. The project, known as Small Talks, was developed by their class teacher, Laura Kirsop and Clare Sutcliffe of Code Club. Code Club is an after-school scheme that introduces children to the pleasures of programming, making it possible for children to design presentations that bring their big interests to a wider audience. While the mere thought of giving a presentation to a group would be a huge challenge for a very quiet child, I can see the potential that Small Talks could have if used by a group of children with the same interests, helping them to find out what each has in common, and working collaboratively.

So the next time you hear the immortal lines ‘The Sweeney’s doing ninety/’Cos they’ve got the word to go’ reflect on the value of having a deep interest, and the benefits this can have for all children, and how we can support the quieter ones to find their voice in school.

To find out more about the National Centre for High Sensitivity visit Growing Unlimited

For information about Small Talks visit Small Talks and Small Talks gives kids the chance to make their own TED-style lectures on Wired

For an in-depth description of High Sensitivity, read two excellent books by Elaine N Aron
The Highly Sensitive Child and The Highly Sensitive Person. Both are published by Thorsons.

Click here for an article on High Sensitivity and selective mutism.