Starting school, a SEND family edition

School is a huge part of our lives. We’re so lucky to live in a part of the world where we can all attend and learn. Or so we think. Until we entered the world of additional needs and disabilities, I had NO IDEA how much of a challenge it can be for families to get their kids into a suitable provision. They’re not being fussy. They’re fighting for what their kids deserve, what they have a right to access and what they DESERVE to access. I cannot express how difficult and draining the battle is on a daily basis when you have a child with a disability and/or additional needs and you have to fight for everything. Unless you are part of this world, there is no way you could understand. Some days you remain strong and determined. Some days it completely breaks you. Fighting for basic needs and rights.

A specialist school place is the one thing I thought would be straightforward. I thought her diagnosis alone would be enough. But let me tell you, in this world a diagnosis is never enough. You need reports. You need meetings. You need phonecalls. You need arguments. You need excruciating waiting times. All for a group of people who have never even met your child to determine their fate and quite often seemingly ignore everything they have read. You may think I’m exaggerating but believe me I’m not. It’s an absolutely disgusting process. We knew exactly where we wanted Alba to go to school. Not a want from the heart, but a want from the most practical sense. I wish more than anything that she could have gone to our local mainstream primary school, but she would have survived, not thrived. After months of waiting, holding out and being extremely careful with language and terminology (they use anything they can against you), we were told she had been allocated a place in our preferred private specialist setting. Great news.

The summer holidays flew by. We ordered uniform, labelled it and prepped Alba for starting school. The reception classroom is next door to her nursery room, and she’s used to using the school facilities. So it shouldn’t be too much of a shock to the system. It doesn’t seem to have been so far, at least not for her. Totally different ballgame for us as her parents.

On Thursday I went to the gym in the evening. That morning had been her first at school and I stayed with her until we left together after lunch. I cried the whole way home from the gym. Ugly, sobbing, noisy crying. I was sad, but I was also angry. Angry that our country and society is so shit and non-inclusive. Angry that our kids have to be shut away in completely different schools because they cannot be accommodated alongside their peers. Other countries manage, so why have we got it so damn wrong? I went to a secondary school where we had a fantastic learning suite and we walked the corridors alongside kids with a range of disabilities and additional needs. It was great for them, and great for us. It breaks my heart to know my daughter will eat lunch at a table that has no chatter of children. She has some lovely classmates and a huge part of me feels terrible for writing this. But I say it on behalf of every child in that specialist setting. They deserve to be included in every day life as much as every other child. I’m well aware that a mainstream setting would be too much for a lot of these kids, but in an ideal world schools would maybe have separate classrooms or buildings, but at least they could be part of the schools everyone else goes to. Part of society. I don’t know what the answer is and I know for sure it’s not an easy fix. But I do know we are doing things so very wrong.

We were made to feel so welcome, safe and comfortable by all the teachers and therapists we met. It’s so refreshing to finally hear that this wonderful team is there to support both Alba and us, and that they will actually communicate and work together. This school is 10000% where Alba needs to be, no matter how difficult it is for us. She’s going to have the time of her life and will have all the therapy she needs within the setting. She gets to swim and bake weekly. She gets to play in a playground where she can access all of the equipment. She gets 1-1 support in the classroom, and professionals who genuinely want to help her achieve exactly what she’s capable of.

As always, you do you baby girl. You’re already moving mountains and I have a feeling you’re going to help change the world.