Chapter 29
29
T hree months later
‘Everyone has biases! Each and every one of us has thoughts we’d rather not share, naughty little opinions that we keep to ourselves. Am I right, or am I right?’ Oliver ( call me Olly ), the young man leading the session, turned to the class and gave a lop-sided smirk as he showed his palms to the ceiling and shrugged.
No one answered.
‘I’m right,’ he answered.
The room crackled with silence.
Sitting at the far end of the front row, Kay kept her eyes fixed on his palms. They were pink, unlined, very youthful. Wouldn’t know a day’s work if it walked up and slapped him in the face, her long-dead grandad, full to the nose of biases, conscious and unconscious, would have said. She kept looking. It was about the only thing in the room she could concentrate on.
‘Yes!’ Olly turned, walked across to the window, stopped, stared at the floor for a moment, did an abrupt turn and walked back. ‘Oh, yes!’ he declared. ‘We all jump to conclusions! We’re always misjudging people, favouring some, making unfounded and unfair assumptions about others. I’ll give you an example if I may, and I don't mind admitting it concerns me. Back when I…’
And off he went again! Striding across to the window, hands clasped behind his back now as he dipped his chin and talked into the clip-on microphone he wore. Anyone would think he was filming a TED talk. Not this; an Unconscious Bias in the Work Place, How to Identify it, Strategies to Eliminate it, A Safe Space in which to Discuss it, session. Run by a private company, charging God-knows-what for a bunch of adults to sit in an overheated room and be talked down to like children. Licence to print money, her grandad would have said… And so on. She wasn’t in the mood.
‘By the end of this training session …’ Olly talked on.
Kay leaned back and swallowed hard. St Stephen’s Wellness Centre, this place was called. She hadn’t even known it existed, but how ironic that today of all days she should have been made aware. Through the window she could see across the rain-lashed car park to where a huge horse chestnut stood, the magnificent spread of its foliage darkening and dying under wet November skies. Next to the tree stood a woman and a small child. The woman was wrestling with an umbrella. Every time she popped it up, it crumpled down again. The child was crying. Kay looked away.
‘… and identify it in yourself and others. Now any questions?’
No one spoke.
‘Great. Well let’s take a moment to grab a coffee, have a mingle and fire up a few of those assumptions, shall we?’ Olly grinned.
No one spoke.
‘Refreshments in this corner,’ he said, indicating the far right-hand corner of the room, where a flask of coffee and a tower of white plastic cups stood on a trolley.
Kay pushed her chair back. She needed a drink of some kind. Her mouth was as parched as a cracker. In fact, every moment since leaving the doctor’s it had only gotten drier.
Determined not to get caught up in conversation, she filled her cup and moved to the nearest window to lean against a huge iron radiator. It was scalding hot. She inched sideways and leaned against the wall instead, closed her eyes, and listened to her heart pounding.
‘So what are you in for?’
Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was a large man standing right in front of her. He wore a suit that seemed two sizes too small, and his shoelace was undone.
‘Sorry?’
‘I’m just wondering,’ the man turned to include a woman who’d walked across to join them, ‘what misdemeanour brings you here?’ He smiled, as if they were having pre-dinner drinks at the office party.
‘I’m a teacher,’ Kay answered.
‘Oh God!’ The woman screwed her face up. ‘That must be a bit like treading on eggshells nowadays.'
‘It’s—’
‘A load of rubbish!’ the man finished. He waved his hand. ‘All this! I mean I don’t care if you’re blue with pink dots, or red with green stripes, as long as you’re buying whatever it is I'm selling.’ He laughed. ‘You can guess I’m in sales.’
Wide eyed, the woman turned to him. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’
‘Say what?’
‘That it’s a load of rubbish.’
‘You couldn’t!’ The man laughed. ‘You’d be sacked.’
Shaking her head, the woman smiled. ‘Personally, I think it’s going to be very useful.’
Kay closed her eyes.
‘Three quid an hour useful,’ the man answered. ‘That's how much the parking is. Not to mention the…’
‘So, if we could all take a seat again.’
The static fizz of Olly's microphone was like an electric current, shocking her back to reality. She opened her eyes and was both confused and embarrassed to see how everyone else was already back at their desks, coffee drunk, opening computers or tablets or phones.
With rubber legs she made her way back to her own seat and took out her laptop.
Olly talked on. Kay’s eyes drooped. Outside, by the horse chestnut, the woman and her child had moved on. Did she ever get the umbrella to stay up? Kay scanned the car park, but there was no sign of them and suddenly it seemed important that she knew. Because suddenly, she couldn’t bear it. The idea of that little boy getting wet and cold. All alone. She really couldn't bear it.
‘We are on a schedule… Kay ? It is Kay, isn’t it?’ Suddenly Olly was standing in front of her desk and when she looked around, everyone else had started the online test.
She nodded, lowered her head and read through the first question:
Using stereotypes is OK. Do you:
Very strongly agree, strongly agree, moderately agree, neither agree nor disagree,
disagree, moderately disagree…
For the briefest of moments, Kay almost smiled. She’d been in the classroom long enough to see stereotype after stereotype repeat faithfully over decades. In fact, stereotypes were a shorthand code in the staffroom.
She clicked. Very strongly disagree.
If I act prejudiced, I would be concerned that others would be angry with me.
Again, Kay smiled. Her wedding day had been as overcast and gloomy as this one. Another century, on a limited budget, with a pal of Martin’s offering to do the photos. He hadn’t used a flash, and as a consequence Martin’s family remained amongst the pages of her wedding album barely distinguishable from the dark grey background of St Mary’s C of E. Something her grandad had pointed out several times. Can’t see them, Kay. Mind, they all look the same, don’t they? How long ago was it since Martin said he’d done this very same test? She must remember to ask him if he remembered this particular question. If it had reminded him of her grandad, with whom he’d spent so many enjoyable hours watching Saturday afternoon football… And then she was going to have to tell him her news…
Sweat breaking out under her arms and at her hairline she ploughed on.
What sex were you assigned at birth? Assigned at birth? The word-salad on forms nowadays.
What is your political identity? There was no option for No bloody idea, so she clicked on Prefer not to say.
How religious do you consider yourself?
Her hand wavered.
Strongly.
Moderately.
Slightly.
Not at all.
Now her hand shook. She clicked on Prefer not to say.
With immense effort, Kay lifted her chin and looked around the room. Everyone else was diligently working away. And although she wanted to give this her best shot, because she did want to know, because she did understand that unconscious bias was real, and she did want to be the best teacher she could be… she simply didn’t have the headspace…
Use the E and I keys. Answer as quickly as you can. E for black. I for white. E is for bad. I is for good.
A series of faces popped up on the screen, just eyes and bridges of noses. Kay clicked. E I I I.
Next a series of words popped up.
Love. Failure. Abuse. Disaster. Friendship. Poison.
She could feel the dressing at the back of her neck curl up and away from her skin. It itched. It hadn’t stopped itching since they’d removed the mole weeks ago. A phantom itch.
Watch out! The screen said. The keys have changed!
E is for white. I is for black. E is for good. I is for bad.
Seven part.s
Pay attention!
The same images, the same words popped up on the screen. Eyes and noses, words. Love. Failure. Abuse. Disaster. Friendship. Poison.
Friendship.
Friendship.
Friendship.
She slammed her laptop shut and dropped her head.
She couldn’t tell her father. She couldn’t tell her mother. She couldn’t tell Alex. The only people she could tell weren’t likely to ever be found in the same room again. Three months had passed since that horrible night when Caro had taken… not taken … When Caro had walked for too long, stayed out far too long with Libby’s baby.
‘Are you OK?’ From nowhere, Olly had materialised again. It spooked Kay.
She stood up. ‘I can’t do this,’ she said, and pulled her bag from the back of the chair and walked out.