Situations – Mon 24th March 2014

By | March 24, 2014

I was reminded of D’s time in mainstream education today. It wasn’t the best experience for either herself or her peers, D was a frightened little girl, often overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of a busy classroom environment. Her reaction was always flight, not fight (luckily).

It was a relief when we received her statement and were able to apply for a place in SN school, she has been (on the whole) a much happier child from the very first day.

Her time in mainstream was emotional for both of us, I spent a lot of time hiding behind sunglasses, unable to compute the various reports and recommendations that we were bombarded with, the realisation that, despite full-time TA support D was not able to access the curriculum and the reactions of other parents. There were a few times when D would be overcome with anxiety and could not step through the door, there would be mutterings out loud: “oh look, she’s off on one again” and such-like, I would reply with “she’s scared, she has autism” and then want to cry with frustration (at them, not D), hence the sunglasses.

We have to go past that school every day and I try to time it so that we’re going past when the majority of people have gone. D has improved but cannot tolerate people too close to her, we have to stop, move to the side and let them pass, this isn’t ideal if we are within a bustling hoard of school children and their parents.

T was at football club after school today and D had had a good Monday, I received a mini run up and a “Mumma!” so she was in a chatty mood as we went along, the majority of the school “traffic” had dispersed.

There was a parent and her child ahead of us, I recognised her as one of the ones who had previously pre-judged and muttered. She was forcibly pulling her child along, with the child hanging on to lamp posts/bits of fencing/hedging/anything. She wasn’t happy and neither was her mum. It was a case of “eyes down, try not to make eye contact”.

D was by my side and I was willing her not to say anything, but …you know, sometimes it can’t be helped.

She looked at me and said “that child (she did say the gender but I’ll omit it) doesn’t look very happy, do they?” and then she said “you don’t do that to me, do you. You’re a nice Mumma”.

Luckily the others were out of earshot by then, but well done to D for a) recognising a tricky situation, b) realising the emotions and c) adding in that nice little compliment.

It makes me realise that, at times, I feel like a total failure, that I should be pushing-push-pushing more for both T and D (and boy, will I be pushing for T’s school place appeal) but sometimes, just sometimes, it’s recognised that I try to be a “good Mumma.

And that will do for me Jx


Facebook Comments

Leave Your Comment

Your email will not be published or shared. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

CommentLuv badge