As A Teacher, I Saw The Most Chilling Moments Of Adolescence Firsthand

Since the series debut on Netflix, the four-part British crime drama "Adolescence" has become one of the most discussed new shows in recent memory, and for good reason. Each episode is filmed in a single, continuous take, and thanks to strong writing and jaw-droppingly effective performances, "Adolescence" is one of the best shows Netflix has ever released. The series centers on a 13-year-old boy named Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper) who has just been arrested for the murder of his classmate, Katie. His crimes were caught on CCTV, so there's no whodunit to be found; instead, "Adolescence" is a series about trying to figure out why Jamie killed her. Created by Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham (who pulls double duty playing Jamie's dad, Eddie), "Adolescence" is both addicting television and an excruciatingly loud warning bell for parents everywhere.

While all four episodes are captivating in their own ways, the standout is episode 3. This is where Jamie meets with Briony Ariston (Erin Doherty), a psychoanalyst tasked with determining whether or not Jamie, a minor, fully grasps the severity of what has taken place. (She's interested in "understanding his understanding.") The result is a gripping two-hander between an established acting powerhouse and an up-and-coming young superstar. It's also an incredibly nuanced look at the possible outcome of what happens when young boys are denied the tools to develop emotional competency while consuming a diet of unchecked "manosphere" content.

At best, viewers have voiced lamentable horror at Jamie's demeanor; at worst, they've expressed unbridled hatred. For me, Jamie's behavior in episode 3 was most harrowing not when he had violent outbursts or began making threats in a fit of rage, but when he reminds us watching at home that he's still just a child. I used to teach children the same age as Jamie, children who also had emotional flare-ups that did, at times, turn violent. "Adolescence" doesn't want us to hate Jamie, nor does it want us to excuse his inexcusable actions.

It does, however, want to remind us that even the people who commit the most monstrous crimes are human, and that's the scariest part of all.

"Adolescence" cleverly shows past events without breaking its one-take filming style through the use of characters watching security camera footage. In episode 1, we see Jamie follow Katie and confront her before stabbing her to death after she pushes him away. In episode 3, Briony watches footage of Jamie fighting with another child at the mental health facility where he's being kept ahead of his trial. He later claims it "wasn't a real fight" and they just "had beef." Those watching know without a doubt that he's capable of physical violence, which primes viewers to see him as dangerous. When Jamie sits down with Briony, spectators will undoubtedly start looking for the warning signs because it's not a matter of if Jamie explodes; it's a matter of when and how bad it will be. As Briony walks through the halls, obtaining a hot chocolate from a vending machine for Jamie, the screams of young boys fighting can be heard in the distance. Jamie refers to the place as a "madhouse," but it sounds shockingly similar to the public schools where I used to teach.

He's pleased that Briony remembered that he likes hot chocolate, and their conversation starts genuinely sweet. After five sessions, they have built a sense of camaraderie. He makes fun of the fact she calls her grandfather "Pop Pop" and quips that he won't eat the sandwich she brought him because it has pickles on it. Briony says "I messed up" with a smile and Jamie giggles, replying, "Yeah, you did." Their exchange reminds me of conversations I had with many of my junior high boys, where sincere happiness broke down any macho posturing because no amount of "acting tough" can hide baby-faced cheeks that make themselves known when laughing. Jamie is bright, he's personable, and in another world, he would be the charming protagonist of an Amblin-era Steven Spielberg movie.

But he's not. He's a 13-year-old boy who stabbed his classmate seven times.

A few topics instantaneously trigger a change in Jamie's candor. Being asked about his father, what "being a man feels like," whether or not he likes sports, and his interest in girls instantly set him off. His voice gets aggressive, he replies on the defense, and as any teacher can tell you — it's all a facade. Children have to be taught emotional regulation, and they struggle to hide how they're feeling even when they think they're pulling a fast one until they've learned. The problem is that emotions have been gendered and categorized. Boys are told to "man up" and that any sign of sadness or fear is the same as showing weakness, so they learn to channel emotions of sorrow and fear into anger.

I once asked a student to read to me; without missing a beat, he exclaimed, "I f***ing hate reading," and pushed his desk away with so much force it dented the bulletin board on the other side of the room on impact. It looked like anger, but I knew the truth. He wasn't the strongest reader, and his English teacher had once made him read aloud during class as punitive treatment, which resulted in the other kids making fun of him for struggling to read simple passages. Asking him to read, even when it was just one-on-one at my desk, reminded him of that fear and embarrassment, so he acted out to throw me off the scent of his vulnerability. 

Boys like Jamie don't think expressing apprehension is an option, so they mask it with rage. After a while, it becomes the default response.

We learn that Jamie isn't much of an athlete, and it's confirmed in episode 4 that he's more of an artist. Unfortunately, in the toxic masculine culture (as opposed to healthy masculine culture like in, yes, the "Jackass" movies) that targets young boys, artistic talent is viewed as "feminine." When Jamie admits to not being good at sports, he fidgets and breathes heavily trying to escape his growing shame. These are feelings he hasn't processed, frankly, because he doesn't know how. Briony very well might be the first person who's ever talked to him about why he feels the way he does, and every time she makes progress, and it chisels away at his worldview, he lashes out in an attempt to maintain control of the situation.

"You do not control what I do in my life," he screams at her. Deep down, he knows he's going to be held accountable for killing Katie, and no amount of screaming at Briony is going to stop that. It's explosive because his ego is fragile and, being a child, he still hasn't learned how to restrain his feelings. But if he can control this conversation, he has control of something.

After Jamie yells at Briony out of defensive reflex, he apologizes. When she realizes she forgot his hot chocolate (the one she was getting to replace the one he swatted away in anger), he tells her he doesn't deserve it. He understands there are repercussions for his actions; the problem is that his outburst toward Katie is too severe and too permanent to fix with an apology. In episode 2, his friend Ryan tells a police officer that he gave Jamie a knife to "scare" Katie for bullying him online, and that very well may have been Jamie's initial plan. It's a f***ed up plan, to be clear, but when he throws chairs and screams obscenities because he's so uncomfortable he doesn't know what to do with his feelings, it's obvious that Jamie cannot control his emotions and very well may have attacked Katie as a knee-jerk reaction. This does not excuse his actions, but it does explain them.

Jamie considers himself ugly and it's a heartbreaking admission because it's evident that this is the first time he's ever been given the space to analyze the sentiment. He confesses that he asked Katie out on a date after a semi-nude photo of her was leaked to their class, believing that he would only ever have a chance with her if she was in a "weakened" position. It's the same mentality shown in male characters from teen movies when they say things like, "I can only get laid if I get a girl drunk." Jamie, only thinking of himself, failed to recognize that the photo of Katie circulating was a massive violation of her privacy — and a crime.

Many of the veteran teachers I worked with used to make fun of the fact I understood the kids' slang, but it also meant that I saw warning signs that they did not. It's how I knew one of my eighth-grade boys had been sexually harassing one of the girls in school when another teacher told me he had been exclusively referring to the student as a "future body" in her class. He didn't call her that in my class, understanding I'd know what it meant. It harkens back to episode 2 when the son of the detective investigating Jamie's case has to teach his father what the red pill emojis mean in Jamie's Instagram comment section (the same ones Briony asks Jamie to clarify for her during their session).

It's not enough to monitor children's online activity if you can't understand it. The warning signs were there, but the adults in his life wouldn't even know what they were looking at ... if they looked at it at all.

At one point, Briony asks Jamie why he uses Instagram if it makes him a target of bullying and he says that he needs to have an account on the app to see other people's posts. When she asks why he doesn't just have an account without actually posting himself, it's obvious that he's never actually thought about it. When kids reply "I don't know" when asked why they did something, it's not always because they're trying to avoid accountability. Sometimes, they legitimately don't know or, at the very least, don't know how to articulate it because they've never actually put thought to it.

Jamie posts online because it's what he thinks he is supposed to do, and therein lies the crux of the entire episode — he does things because he thinks it's what he's supposed to do or what's expected of him, but he's never interrogated what any of it means or why. This sparks the larger question of figuring out where these self-imposed expectations come from.

"Adolescence" doesn't place the blame on one entity, instead providing multiple avenues that contributed to who Jamie would become. Much has been mentioned of the series' willingness to call out red pill/incel culture and figures like Andrew Tate by name, but there's been less discussion about how episode 4 centering on Jamie's family echoes much of what happens in episode 3. In the same way that Briony brings Jamie a cup of hot chocolate just the way he likes it to placate him, we later see Jamie's mother Manda (Christine Tremarco) bringing his short-tempered father his favorite black pudding to add to his birthday breakfast. This is the same man who, by the time "Adolescence" is over, has sobbed uncontrollably into his son's pillow, wishing he'd been better for him and expressing an emotion he'd held in until he was alone (lest anyone else see).

Jamie may not know why he acts the way he does, but he does understand the outcome of his behavior. After he lashes out at Briony, he assumes she is going to leave. It's his way of feeling like he's in power; even if her response is negative, if he can anticipate her behavior and how she's going to treat him, it's easier to process. Children thrive on structure and stability, which is why if you tell a kid they're a "bad kid" enough, they believe it because it's a constant. Being able to envision an outcome means they have a grasp on the world around them. The reason the manosphere is so effective is that it unquestionably validates any and all negative feelings young boys have, instead of challenging them to understand why they are feeling the way they do.

Briony's exchanges force him to question his understanding of the world and it inspires a breakthrough, but one that has come too late ... and Jamie knows it.

Jamie tries to pull one over on Briony, feigning an "alpha male" persona while saying, "Look at ya, all hopeful like I'm gonna say something important." But over the last five sessions, she's created an environment where he feels safe, so this attitude doesn't last. He's so comfortable that at one point he mindlessly says, "What I did," essentially confessing. When he realizes he slipped up, he loses it. He tries to regain control by intimidating her, but she holds her ground. It's a position I've been in myself, and one I hope I never have to be in again. He's swearing. He's lashing out. He even tries to hurt her feelings by saying the male doctor is easier to deal with. But she doesn't leave, and seeing her choice to stay motivates him to chill out.

He takes a bite of the sandwich as a subconscious peace offering, and she recognizes this is now the time to ask standard questions, the ones he has been expecting the entire session: Does he understand death? Does he understand he's potentially going to prison? Briony tells him that their session is over and it will be their last, and that's when the panic sets in. Jamie has finally come to terms with the severity of his situation and is recognizing that what he did to Katie cannot be undone. As he's escorted out, he screams his heart out asking, "Do you like me? Don't you even like me a little bit? What did you think about me?"

Jamie is desperate for external validation and has finally found another human being who is willing to hear him in a judgment-free zone to understand his complex feelings and budding systems of belief, but it's too late. Once he's out of view, screams still sounding down the hall, Briony lets out a huge breath and starts to cry. The tears are flowing not because she's "faced evil" or because she was scared of a 13-year-old boy, but because she is sickened by having witnessed firsthand his warped grasp on reality and his hopeless need for the approval of others. She was finally able to release her own emotions, the ones she had to keep close to her chest so Jamie had the space to process his own, and she knows, deep down, that Katie's death was preventable. Jamie isn't a monster; he's a child who did something monstrous and is coming to terms with the permanence of his actions.

"Adolescence" painfully reflects the famous Margaret Atwood quote, "Men are afraid women will laugh at them, women are afraid that men will kill them," as well as the unchecked outbursts of far too many boys I've seen sitting at desks with names written in my handwriting. For the love of humanity, talk to the young boys in your community. Help them, educate them, give them the space to process and learn to regulate their emotions, and give them positive role models of healthy masculinity. As "Adolescence" reminds us, the lives of the women depend on it.