It’s been a tough few months in the Justgoodenough household, and – frankly speaking – nothing seemed to be good enough.
Both the young ones suffered very badly from the combined effects of a new (thankfully permanent) class teacher and the organised chaos that is the term leading up to the Christmas holidays.
Even with the school routine checked out on the daily visual chart, and any changes discussed, with loads of reassurance from me and their dad, Small Boy and Small Girl were both anxious, cranky and sometimes downright out of control, both before and after school.
Small Boy in particular had several (and I don’t want to think back and count them up as the total would be really depressing!) occasions when I had to act tough and physically dress him and then half drag him into school. We work to always give them a choice in as much as we can, so they both of them feel they have an element of control in their lives, which to be fair, are mostly managed by adults, and rightly so as they are children. Examples are allowing them to choose between toast and bagels, hot and cold cereals, jeans or joggers. Not exciting stuff, but then when you are dealing with a child who point blank refuses to see anything good in the entire school week with the exception of the end of class bell on a Friday afternoon, there isn’t much to work with.
Still, I did as much as I could, and knowing Small Boy and his indefatigable logic, I knew I had to get him into school every day, as if I had wavered just once, and he’d not been actually unwell, he wouldn’t have gone back in again. The worst day was the Monday before Christmas, when I had to call the school and get the head teacher involved. Small Boy was barely dressed, had refused to eat or drink, and then just as I thought he might be calming down, he shot past me and tried to race out of the door.
It was freezing cold, he was only wearing thin trousers and a polo shirt, and his trainers were unlaced. How I moved quickly enough to catch him I shall never know, but I’m pleased I did as I dread to think of how long he might have been missing for.
The head drove down and I bundled him into her car so we could physically get him the very short distance from home into the school building. From there he shot into the classroom – after I blocked the exit – and hid under his desk, rolled into a ball. The TA that he shares with Small Girl and another child was there to keep an eye on him, and the head stayed with him while he calmed down. I know they offered him a banana and a drink when he was able to sit at the desk rather than under it (I came prepared for the lack of breakfast). He didn’t join the other children for the rest of the day, but did do some work at his separate desk.
I felt terrible about pushing him, but I knew I didn’t have a choice. What we hadn’t realised until this year is how badly any kind of change affects him, and it’s getting progressively worse. We don’t know if hormones are involved – he’s nearer 11 than 10 – or whether it’s “one of those things” but we do know that even with every support the school had put into place, it was nowhere near enough.
The Christmas break came a day early as their TA was sick on the last day and they weren’t able to find a replacement. There were too many variables in the day, including an end of term service in the neighbouring abbey, that meant it wouldn’t have been safe to send either of them, so with the head’s agreement I declared a pyjama day and kissed goodbye to my planned six hour’s wrapping marathon.
Behaviour improved a little, but then as soon as the last Christmas present had been unwrapped and the usual roast lunch was dished up, I noticed a profound difference. I won’t say that everything has been perfect since then, but I think knowing there are no more big surprises planned has been a huge relief.
I was dreading them going back to school but in fact it’s been remarkably calm. I did give Small Boy a small chat about maybe seeing if he could try hard to understand that nothing has been “normal” for his teacher since she started as she came right into the whole Christmas plans chaos, and he agreed to try. For school’s part, I insisted that Small Boy be given the choice to work at his separate desk for any lesson, as long as he proved their trust in him by actually working and not messing about or dreaming. Not that he has done either of those things, but it has to be a two-way street. He can hear the class from his desk, just not see them as he is separated by a row of bookshelves. The teacher or TA checks on him regularly, and he has been much happier.
On Wednesday he came home with a sticker on his jumper. Turns out it was for the best child in the class that day. Cue me trying to not cry with pride. Then Thursday he turned up with another sticker, for a repeat performance.
And yesterday? He came out of school with this:
Small Girl, not to be outdone, came out adorned with a fantastic sticker for being the best in class that day.
Not ashamed to admit I teared up a bit. OK, a lot.
Sadly, the effort of having been so amazing all week was too much for Small Boy who had a (mercifully brief) violent meltdown about an hour after getting home, triggered by something very small. I kept him safe while he raged and then held him until he was calm enough to know where he was. He was quiet after that, and a little subdued, but still able to eat his tea and go to Scouts, more proof that he is handling the new routine pretty well.
So, the good and the bad. It’s a constant balancing act trying to ensure I push for my children to have the adaptations to the school day that allows them to attend, but at the same time not letting them think they can just refuse to go in.
However, I think one thing is clear. Neither of my children can cope with the Christmas term. I have review meetings for both of them next week and top of my agenda will be a concrete plan for November and December of this year. I cannot allow either of them to go through the hell that it plainly is. I dread having to remove them from school, but if that is what it takes to ensure their well-being then I will, but I will be pushing for tutoring too.
It could be a busy year!