Adrian Chiles’s emotional response to Poor by Katriona O’Sullivan really resonated with me (I’d never cried during a live broadcast – then three poignant words had me sobbing, 30 July). I read it and my heart both sobbed and cheered for Katriona’s younger self and the woman she has become.
With its linear narrative, rich cultural references and “rags-to-riches” form, it might be taken for a tale of “that was then but this is now”. However, the defining part of the book is the epilogue, making clear that Katriona’s account of growing up in grinding, abject poverty is a story of then and now. Every day, countless Katrionas enter schools with “pissy pants” and empty bellies, their nervous systems on high alert, in fight, flight or freeze.
School is a place to survive, not thrive. I know, because I have worked in a primary school for over 20 years. I provide mental health support to vulnerable children and their equally vulnerable and disadvantaged families.
My job is not to educate, but to help make children feel seen, heard, cared for and valued – to try to reduce the stigma attached to being poor ie, the misconception that having less means being less.
Reading Poor reinforced the vastness and complexity of poverty as an issue – it can feel “too big”. But that doesn’t prevent each of us from treating others with dignity, respect and kindness, noticing when someone is struggling, is hungry, dirty or alone, and offering a supportive hand.
Pollyanna-ish? I don’t think so. It was heart-warming and affirming to read about the lasting, positive impact certain school staff had on Katriona. When school reopens in September, my copy of Poor will be available in the staffroom – anyone who works in a school (or indeed anyone at all) should read it.
Sarah Schofield
Whitefield, Greater Manchester
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