Obligatory back-to-school-post
Because what sort of SEN Mum would I be if I didn't cover this?
You know that point in some movies, when, as the viewer, you can't imagine how things could get any worse, and when it seems like there is no way the protagonist is going to get out of the situation they're in? Think of the incinerator scene in Toy Story 2. The toys are sliding towards the furnace, bracing themselves for what seems to be inevitable. That was our Thursday morning. Unfortunately, unlike Woody, Buzz et al, I'm still waiting for the little squidgy aliens to come and save us.
Before I had children, I assumed ‘sending your children to school' involved deciding on the right one, a few bumps settling them in and at the beginning of term, and then you're away. I laugh at how wrong I could be! A quick run-down of where we're at at the moment: My eldest hasn't been to school full-time for nearly 3 years and was not able to go to school at all for 18 months. We've tried homeschooling, tutoring and part-time mainstream schooling, all of which have pushed her dangerously close to break-down (again).
Our middle daughter is battling through Primary school. She was unable to get into school in the mornings without serious interventions for 4 years, but seemes to have made a breakthrough last summer term. She now goes in reluctantly, but is more disruptive in the classroom than my eldest ever was. I dread the "Ooh, Mrs Miller" coming from her teacher at the end of the day as they try to catch my eye.
Our youngest is starting school this year. For the last 4-5 years, both of her sisters have reacted to going to school as if they're being sent to an abattoir. It isn't any wonder that she's not massively thrilled about the idea. I am steeling myself for her school years as she struggles with speech and language the most out of all of them, was diagnosed the earliest, and I'm not entirely sure she really knows what is going on some of the time.*
This morning we had the whole gamut of emotions from all three. Triggering each other into meltdowns for different reasons. Uniform that had been wrestled on was taken off minutes later, duvets were hidden under and shoes were thrown. There was screaming and shouting (obviously), and in the middle, right at the point where I didn't think it could get any worse, the Headteacher of their school phoned me. She phoned with news that she had had a meeting with the Local Authority in the days prior to term starting, and they had said that if my eldest couldn't attend school regularly on the two half-days she is due to come in, then she would likely not be given a specialist place for secondary, and her alternative provision place (which she loves) would also be taken away.
My mind flashed-forward to a whole 7 more years of desperately trying to educate her, whilst not having a moment to myself...
This, coupled by the fact that the girls were all meant to be dropped into school at different times (settling in, full time, part-time) with different pick up times, that if I'm honest I hadn't really rehearsed in my head to see whether it was actually possible, meant I felt like I could have a stroke at any moment.
The morning passed in a blur as I cajoled, bribed, persuaded and comforted the three of them. I used every single emotional regulation/anxiety-abating tool in the large metaphorical toolbox I've built over the last few years. The result? Finally, a brief 20 minute window when they were all at school - miraculous! I sat in my car, in the school car park, and stared out of the window. And stared, and stared. My brain and emotions at full capacity. A passing teacher asked me how our summer had been and I could barely string a sentence together.
Can't wait to do it all again!
*I would like to acknowledge that the school they started last year has been absolutely fantastic. They are extremely accommodating, and after I told them of our situation, nothing has been too much trouble. They are incredible. A real eye-opener in terms of what an inclusive school and inclusive teaching looks like.
