The scented shampoo • What made the student go berserk?

Sorry, can't control it

Looking for some quiet is legitimate, so that's exactly what I did, when I sat down in the corner of the teachers' room with a full glass, in a thicket of green leaves submerged in hot water.
Any common goat would enjoy this dish. health.
Yes, health, it's just a shame that in most cases the healthy things are not exactly the flavor of life.

The school counselor and another fellow teacher were standing close to me and discussing work matters between them, and since I don't really have control over the listeners, I listened.
I didn't really listen, but I did.
Sorry, no hearing control.

"Listen, he's completely changed."
"Yes, that's what I heard, completely different from last year. Not learning, losing interest very quickly at best, or getting in the way at worst."
Later, I realized who they were talking about and I was amazed.
He was really a charming, calm and quiet boy and in fact, even in my physical education classes, he was and remains like that.

Things don't just happen

In accordance with my perception, that things don't just happen, I used my mind to try to understand the boy and I failed.
There is no such thing, there is a spinner here and you have to find it.
I casually asked the educator, inquired with the counselor and... nothing.
No one had any idea why the boy was behaving the way he was.

And as usually happens, that is, always, the idea comes at the least expected time or place.
In this case, in the shower.
It was a designed, scented shampoo bottle that tried to convey quality, and it succeeded, otherwise it wouldn't be here.
Anyway, under the running water and the smell of the shampoo - it arrived.

Quality shampoo

The next day, I caught the counselor aside.
She was the caring person, so she is the address.
 "I have a story to tell you" I said.
"Short or long? I have class in ten minutes."
"It's about that student." - I said his name.
"Yes, what happened?"
"Listen."
"For you, I'm a big ear for the next nine minutes."
I lost a minute. tough

I took a breath. "Boaz was born into a difficult family.
In fact, his father was a particularly violent man who terrorized those around him, and when Boaz was four years old his father was imprisoned in a prison.
Boaz's mother was the sane bubble in his world and with her support he grew to be a sociable child and a good student.
And then it happened, on the first day of the year in sixth grade.
In this year, a new teacher arrived in his class and Boaz's behavior changed sharply. He became insolent and even violent.

The staff did not know how to interpret the extreme change and after one of the days he violently attacked one of his classmates.
The principal had no choice and Boaz was suspended from school for a week.
Even when he returned after the suspension, he continued the same behavior and the principal was left with no choice and thus, a decision was made to transfer him to another school that would suit him.

At that school there was an educational consultant who thought a little more.
He thought that every reason has a twister and such a radical change requires a thorough investigation.
He asked for an extension to try to help the boy before removing him, and he got it.

The counselor spoke with the child's mother and the educator and even watched the classroom's security camera videos and found nothing unusual.
From the camera it also appears that there is no problem with the teacher who was patient, inclusive and calm.
He checked everything but one thing. He didn't talk to the father.
And since it's the last thing left, that's what he decided to do.
He arranged a visit and came to the prison.

For half an hour he sat with the father who did not understand what the sleepy counselor wanted from him.
In fact, the counselor didn't really know what to do there either and when he got up to leave the room and asked himself - what did this meeting contribute to me besides the pleasant smell of the shampoo that the prisoner uses and inhaled from the moment he entered, he thought of something.

"Say," he turned to the father, "you use a particularly fragrant shampoo...
May I know what type it is?"
The prisoner looked at him with an expression that conveyed mostly pity.
He blurted out the name and as he turned and walked away, the counselor could hear him muttering, "Abel, no wonder the education looks like this."

The next day he met Boaz's class teacher who smelled good
And the first thing he said to him was:
"What kind of shampoo do you use?"
The surprised educator said the type and confirmed to the counselor the hypothesis that had been swirling in his head since the meeting with the father in prison.
They used the same type of shampoo.

You see, the child doesn't really remember the age of three or four, but in his brain, in the part that functions as a detector and identification of dangers, this smell is burned as a kind of danger.
This is the smell of the violent father.
As far as the child is concerned, without him realizing it, when the educator enters the classroom, a kind of threat enters with him, a danger enters and he reacts accordingly and not consciously.

Each child will react differently. There will be those who gather within themselves and break away
And there are those who will react violently and there are probably many more possible reactions, each according to its nature.
In this case, the shampoo was the trigger.
I have no idea what exactly is the case here, but it is possible that our child has a similar problem."
That's it, I breathed a sigh of relief. I talked more than usual.

Well, talk to me

The counselor shook her head in understanding.
"That's interesting. Well, I'm running to class." She turned to go.
After three steps she stopped and turned towards me.
She fixed her piercing eyes on me and said more than a question:
 "You piece of fox, that's a story you made up."
I put my hand on my heart "Really no. I read it somewhere."
After a few more seconds of inquisitive looks she said:
"Well, I know you, you have an idea in mind, come on talk to me."

I shrugged, "Look, I don't know the boy's family history and we must find out more, but if it were up to me, I would shoot with everything I have.
That is, I would start switching between the classes, changing the seating positions within the class, anything that could be done and of course would not disturb the other students.
It is impossible to know at the moment what arouses the demon in him."

foxes

Under the direction of the consultant, all the changes were made and a few others and... it helped.
I don't know what the trigger was, I don't know what brought the dangerous tiger into the classroom and it certainly interested me, but at this point everything returned to its place peacefully and when a patient is cured, you don't really care how, at least initially, the research will be done later.

A few weeks later we huddled in one of the corners of the teachers' room.
She told me quietly, as a secret sweetener "It helped."
I fixed her with the most crooked eye I could muster at that moment.
"When we talked then, and I told you the shampoo story, you told me you were in a hurry because you had a class, but we talked for more than fifteen minutes, it doesn't work out so well for me."
"Right" she half winked half smiled. "Because I didn't have class.
I was just rushing for my daily dose of caffeine."

I nodded "And I'm a fox, huh?"
"Totally, in fact, you're an inspiration to foxes."
I waved my hand dismissing "conspiracies."