“And remember,” I said, scanning the room. “We are here to help you. If you have any problems you can come and talk to us at any time.”

It was my standard September speech, sandwiched between the register and handwriting. I really meant it too. I wanted them all to achieve and behave well but fundamentally I wanted them to be happy and secure.

Luckily they had us: my job-share and I. Firm but fair and, above all, approachable.

Or so I thought.

It was the end of the first week when I saw Olivia’s mum hovering by the classroom door.

“She doesn’t know I’m here,” she told me. “She’s worried about her ruler.”

“Her ruler?”. I looked blank.

“When the rulers were being handed out on the first day Olivia got missed and now she’s worried she’ll get told off for not having one.”

“Why didn’t she just ask?” I said.

“She said you looked busy and you told them they had to look after their things so she was afraid you would think she’d lost it and tell her off. She’s been borrowing Ryan’s.”

Back in the classroom, I slipped a ruler into Olivia’s hand. “You can always tell me if you don’t have something,” I said. “You won’t be in trouble.”

I considered Olivia as we started the lesson. She was always answering questions in class, she chatted away in group discussion, she would bound over to read to me but she wouldn’t tell me her problems.

Unlike Charlie. Charlie had no reservations about sharing his worries. Big or small, no fleeting concern could pass through Charlie’s head without making it out of his mouth.

After a lesson punctuated by no less than 14 interruptions, I decided some intervention was needed.  

“Charlie, you need to start solving things for yourself and focus on your work,” I told him.

“But you said we can tell you our problems at any time,” he replied.

“Er, yes, I did but maybe you should just tell me yours at break times unless they’re really urgent,” I suggested. “You didn’t need to interrupt our times tables test to tell me your socks were itching did you?”

But while Charlie managed it effortlessly I did wonder how easy it really was to let your teacher know when something was on your mind. We may say “talk to us any time” but how easy was it to find a good moment when every learning minute counts and you are vying for attention along with 29 others?

For a shy or self-conscious child, simply building up the courage to talk to their teacher about something can take all their energy. One false move on our part and they might never attempt it again. I’ve known children have something go wrong in the morning and not utter a word until they see their parent at home time and promptly burst into tears.

So while you are still gaining their trust sometimes it helps to have a mediator to bridge the gap.

“Mrs Brighouse?”, a voice called out as I talked them through the art task that afternoon.

“Yes Charlie?” I said resignedly. “What is it now?”

“When you were handing out the paintbrushes you missed Olivia,” he said. “She hasn’t got one”.

I gave Olivia a paintbrush and Charlie a beaming smile. “Thank you Charlie,” I said. “That was very helpful of you.”

Jo Brighouse is a pseudonym for a teacher in the Midlands. She tweets @jo_brighouse