So here we are – last day of the summer term, and Pudding has done a whole year in mainstream.
This time last year I was anxiously waiting for September and wondering how things would go. There have been a lot of emotional ups and downs since then, but right now I’m facing the future with calm.
In reading other blogs from the disability world, I’m well aware that schooling, as with many other services, is a lottery. I feel very lucky that we somehow managed to get hold of a winning ticket. So many parents face discouraging messages: ‘we don’t feel we can meet his needs’ or ‘perhaps your daughter would do better somewhere they have more experience’. Yet at our local school I have only ever heard ‘How can we make this work?’
For inclusion to succeed there has to be the will, throughout the school, to enter into it wholeheartedly and there are many reasons why this year has worked for Pudding. A headteacher who believes in inclusion enough to have a member of staff dedicated to SENCo (Special Educational Needs Coordinator) work three full days a week. A SENCo who holds regular coffee mornings for parents to discuss areas of concern. Teachers who welcome difference into the classroom and explain it to other children. And most of all, a teaching assistant who throws herself into learning Makaton, developing resources, teaching and caring for Pudding as if he were her own.
And I have to mention the other children – one of the benefits of mainstream which I never expected is the way Pudding has been taken to heart by the whole school community. To watch the Year 6 children scramble to give him high fives has been such a joy to me.
There have of course been some negatives. There was the nativity which didn’t go quite as I’d have liked. On days when Pudding was in a bad mood I would dread hearing that he’d badly injured another child when throwing something. Perhaps the most difficult thing, again unexpected, has been emails from the class teacher explaining what phonics or maths the children were learning that week. I’m afraid I just stopped reading these regular reminders of how far Pudding is behind on ‘typical’ development.
Much as I have loved the positive experience we have had in reception year, I did start to worry what Year 1 would be like. Whilst his peers move towards more desk-based work, Pudding still struggles to sit and concentrate at anything for long. In an open-plan environment I had visions of him becoming more and more disruptive. We took the difficult decision to apply for a split placement – requesting that he stay in mainstream for 2 days a week but then have the other days in a special school.
I say a difficult decision: logically I felt it was the right thing to do, but emotionally it was another big step on the path of acceptance. I wanted to give him the best of both worlds – keeping him rooted in the local community, but also having the chance of more specialist teaching with other children on his own development level.
Our request was turned down, due to lack of space in the special school.
I won’t deny that this decision really upset me.
But once again, Pudding’s current school stepped up to the mark. Almost immediately I got an email from the SENCo asking how I was, and reassuring me that they would put in place whatever was needed to make things work. And they have already. The children all move up to their new class three weeks before the end of term, so Pudding has now been in Year 1 for three weeks. In consultation with the special school they have set a personalised timetable for him and found a room where he can go to do focused 1:1 work. He has regular access to play resources and plenty of interaction with his classmates. And so far the results have been really positive.
None of us know what the future holds. Even with the intervention of his trial meds, the gap between his abilities and that of his peers will continue to widen. We may need to apply for a full-time place in special school for the next year. But for now, I know he’s in a great place.
And he’s happy. At the end of the day, that’s really all that matters.