You know that kid who doesn’t like to join in as a member of the classroom community? The one who says everyone else is annoying? Who needles other kids to get a reaction because he isn’t quite ready to take the risk of making a friendly overture? For whom power struggles are a seeming delight?  Luckily he (or she) doesn’t come along very often, but when he does he can be one tough customer!

Kids like this need help with building friendship skills, developing empathy, and managing anxiety. Often, though, their defenses are so well established that they don’t easily buy into the idea of working to change their behavior. What they are currently doing works for them, even though (especially because?) peers and adults are constantly making it clear that they don’t like it. In these cases, I sometimes use a sneak attack, harnessing the kid’s very defenses to help him fortify his friendship and empathy skills, while undermining the anxiety that keeps him from taking friendship risks.

One third grade friend and I used this strategy, which he called “The Secret Sparkler.” (Ha! Mr. Resistant took ownership of his own nemesis!) The idea appealed to his comfort with his outsider status, his love of control, and the pleasure he got from “putting one over” on someone.

In our first session, after it became clear that the usual methods were not going to work, I asked him if he would help me with a project, but that it had to be top secret from the other kids. Already, he was hooked! I told him that I needed someone to make awards for all of the kids in his class, one each week, and that I required some inside info on what they should earn awards for. The kids would get the awards, but they would have no idea who they came from, or how the awarder knew about what they had done. I asked him if he could help decide the order in which the kids were selected, and we made a check sheet of his classmates’ names. We included his name, so as to throw off any suspicions that might arise about the Secret Sparkler’s identity.

That day he could only think of one kid who could ever deserve anything, and I had to help him come up with a list of possible deeds that might make her award-worthy.  He got to work on it right away (the temptations of glitter and glue helped.) After he made the award, he wrote “To _______ for __________________. From the Secret Sparkler.”  We decided that I would put it in his teacher’s mailbox with a note, signed by The Secret Sparkler, asking her to deliver it. Then we made a plan for him to observe (he preferred the term “spy on”) his classmates so that he would know who should receive the award. I later asked the teacher if she could make a big deal out of telling the kids about the mysterious award that had turned up and then present it in front of the class.

Each week, my friend got better and better at identifying awardees. Pretty soon I hardly had to prompt him at all. He loved telling me about how it went when the teacher presented the award and how flummoxed the kids were about the Secret Sparkler’s identity. There was lots of third grade chatter and excitement, and I (feigning cluelessness) heard about it in my lunch groups and class councils. Sometimes he joined in with them, pretending that he didn’t know either. He was proud that the kids liked the awards so much and, by extension, liked him. He (and the teacher) noticed that the other kids were making a few little behavior adjustments in hopes that the Secret Sparkler would notice. Partway through, he started giving two awards per week. As we were nearing the end of the list, I had to encourage him to think about giving one to himself so the other kids wouldn’t get suspicious. That week he gave three awards. He didn’t want anyone to have to wait too long, and he was thinking about how the last person on the list might feel. He purposely chose his least favorite classmate to go second to last instead of last, which blew me away!  He presented the final award himself – the Secret Sparkler was unmasked. Yup, I had tears in my eyes!

Our foray into espionage was fun, but did it help my friend? Over the course of about 12 weeks, he got a lot of practice in looking for the good in others and thinking about how they were feeling. He experienced firsthand, but risk-free, the rewards of friendly behavior. He learned that he could gain more power and attention through kind acts than he did though nudgy or oppositional behavior.  He got to hear the teacher talking about him importantly and positively, without having to worry about embarrassment or the need to prove her wrong. He became part of a group with a common interest. His classmates saw the Secret Sparkler as a special and admirable friend; once his identity was revealed, a lot of that peer goodwill transferred to the boy himself. Everyone wanted the Secret Sparkler to continue, so he did, though now with the help of a friend (different each week) that he invited to join him.

Everything was not perfect after this, but it was much better. My friend showed visible signs of relief. He was less quick to say something negative about others, he more regularly joined a group at snack time, and he showed more trust for his teacher. We still had work to do, but a big change had occurred. 

Sometimes it just takes glitter. And sneakiness. And always the belief that the kid can be successful. The school counselor: ally and counteragent all rolled into one!  Now, where’s my trenchcoat?