First day of term, September 1999. Daniel went back to school today. This is his last year at primary school and Daniel hoped to be head boy.
Someone else is head boy but I told Daniel that it does not matter.
He has enough responsibilities being the office boy. His office ladies need him. Daniel went to school with a new dictionary and a new math’s set. He is going to do his S.A.T.S.
All parents of children who are going to do S.A.T.S tend to have a particular focus. There are books to help children to pass. There are holiday clubs and parent-teacher meetings. Children are cajoled, children are crammed and children are conditioned. S.A.T.S are the be all and the end all of everything.
I understand. I did my eleven plus.
Daniel likes his new teacher. I have never met him because he is new. I asked Daniel to tell me his new teachers name. Daniel said that he does not have a name because he is new.
Two weeks later and Daniel’s support worker thinks that it is time for a review. The review is well timed. Daniel has not been in any trouble this term.
Our social worker arrived at our house in plenty of time for the meeting. We had a lazy walk to school and we talked about ordinary things like the weather and psychoanalysis. If our social worker was not our social worker she could be my friend. We could talk about ordinary things like the weather and psychoanalysis.
Daniel’s head teacher made his office available. He was not able to be present. The support teacher arrived. She hugged and kissed all of us. I kissed the air around her. Our social worker bumped her chin on her head. Daniel’s devoted dad looked ready for a good snog. I glared at him and we all sat down. We had a good chat about how Daniel has coped since the beginning of term.
Apparently Daniel has continued to do his job well and his dinner lady has allowed him to have a few minutes play every lunchtime.
Daniel’s new teacher popped in. He told us that Daniel tends to get out of his chair a lot when he is supposed to be sitting down. He is not quite sure why because he is new.
The new teacher looked at us all in turn and waited for a response.
We were at a loss. The support worker saved the day by explaining that Daniel has had behaviour problems for quite some time. She said that with the help and support Daniel’s behaviour should continue to improve. We all have a role to play and between us we can help Daniel with his problems.
The new teacher required clarification. Should he make Daniel sit on his chair or not? Daniel came in. He sat on the support workers lap.
Daniel preferred to stand but he agreed to comply with her wishes and perched on her left knee. The support worker asked Daniel to tell us how he can avoid hitting other children. Daniel explained that he pretends he is surrounded by a nice warm bubble that prevents him from reaching out to hot people. As he said it his support worker mouthed the words with him. One of her hands held one of Daniel’s hands, her other hand rested on Daniel’s back.
Daniel looked like Lord Charles. I thought we had established that Daniel is not a dummy?
A week later and we went to see Mister. He heaped lots of praise on Daniel for not causing a major incident this term. He asked Daniel to carefully consider how to continue to do well. Daniel had an immediate answer. He told Mister about the bubble. Mister smiled. Daniel went for a cup of tea with his dad while I talked to Mister. I told him all about the meeting, the new teacher and Lord Charles.
The doctor was in stitches. He told me that he admires my positive approach and my sense of humour. I told the good doctor that I only laugh when it hurts. He already knew.
It is one o’clock in the morning, October 1999. My eyes are dry and sore with tiredness. My back aches and my ankles are swollen. Daniel is jumping around making silly noises. He is helping his dad carry three heavy suitcases. We are standing in Tenerife airport.
Soon we will be taxied to a luxury apartment where we will spend three weeks and lots of money. Daniel’s head teacher has authorised time for Daniel to relax, recuperate and celebrate his dads very early retirement.
A week after we return and the new teacher has asked for the deputy head to ask the behaviour support worker to tell us that Daniel has to come home for lunch. The new teacher considers Daniel’s dinner lady to be superfluous to his needs. Apart from that dinner ladies have to be responsible for lots of children. The present situation is a complete waste of human resources. Needless to say, Daniel’s head teacher is on sick leave.
When the behaviour support worker telephoned she was aghast. “I AGHAST!” she cried. “It is SATS, SATS, SATS. SATS are to blame, darling”.
The voice tapered off and she blew a kiss down the phone. I went off to hug our cheese plant.
Have I lost or am I not playing the game?
My preparation for Daniel coming home for lunch involved care and sensitivity. Yesterday I made the sufficient food for two extra portions to be microwaved, before I went to work today I put a nice cloth on the table, arranged table mats and knives and forks. I chilled orange juice for Daniel and lovingly put a teabag in a cup for his dad. Then I kissed Daniel and told him that he will have a nice lunch with his dad.
I come home from work and Duster has had two dinners. Daniel and his dad have had burger and chips. Daniel explained that they do not like Sunday-food on a Monday. I have transferred the weight of responsibility to my gentleman of leisure. He is awestruck.
It is now December 1999 and Daniel is suspended from school for a few days. The deputy head contacted me and explained that Daniel would not sit on his chair properly. That he glared angrily at the new teacher and used filthy language.
I have never heard Daniel use filthy language.
Three days later I canceled the appointment with Mister. Daniel might have chicken-pox.
It is Christmas Day, It is a lovely lazy Christmas afternoon. We are lying around on sofas and cushions. Tigger is washing Duster’s ears.
We are sipping wine and eating a chocolate orange. Daniel is eating a selection-box and playing on his new computer. It is a state of the art computer complete with Internet connection and a huge price tag.
Second week of term, January 2000 and Daniel’s head teacher operates a working in partnership with a working parent policy.
At the first sign of trouble he contacts the working parent and leaves the non working parent to continue his cross-word.
The head teacher and I are on first name terms. When I answered my office telephone today I knew that Daniel was in deep trouble. I knew that Daniel had hit someone, used filthy language or was on his way to intensive care in an ambulance.
All mothers have a similar psychic approach to telephone calls from head teachers. I was reassured that Daniel was fine. The reason for the call was to inform me that the new teacher is having problems with Daniel. Apparently, The new teacher has a problem. He tends to pronounce consonants in an unusual way. Daniel tends to laugh at him. The head teacher requires a meeting.
I am lying in the bath. This is not a bath with candles, bubbles and a martini with an olive. It is a bath that might wash things away. I am deeply shocked.
My son has purposely humiliated someone. My son has focused on someones problems and he has made the problems difficult and embarrassing. I am ashamed of him.
One week later and I have not told anyone about the meeting with the head teacher. I have not told Daniel, his dad, our social worker or my boss. My boss did not ask why I wanted the afternoon off work. I am glad. I do not want to lie to her.
This afternoon I sat in the head teachers office. He gently explained that Daniel is almost eleven years old. Daniel is a clever lad. Daniel has stopped hitting people. Daniel has become more articulate.
It is bedtime and I have just kissed Daniel. As Daniel smiled at me he raised his left eyebrow slightly. I do that. I am lying in bed. I want to cry. I cannot cry. I never cry.
The next day and Daniel’s head teacher had phoned. He has contacted the head of pupil referral unit. The man from the PRU will be visiting the school next week to see another child. Daniel will be seen at the same time. He explained that the pupil referral unit is for children who have problems at school. The unit helps the children to come to terms with their problems and to form effective relationships with staff and with peers. The head teacher told me that the pupil referral unit is in our village. He asked me if I have heard of it. Of course I have heard of it. It is the sin bin.
Daniel is not going into the sin bin. The man from the PRU thinks that Daniel is a bright lad with minimal problems. He said that Daniel definitely has problems but they are minimal. Apparently Daniel’s problems can be sorted out at school with firm boundaries and a positive relationship between school and home. I am all for that.
One week later and I am sitting in the Mister’s office. Mister cannot understand why I have requested a solo appointment with him. I wanted to talk about the man from the PRU. On reflection, I am not totally against Daniel attending the pupil referral unit.
However, I do not want Daniel to be kicked out of main stream school. Daniel would see it as a rejection. I suggested that, perhaps, Daniel could attend the unit on a part time basis.
Clearly, staff at Daniel’s school have tried to meet Daniel’s needs.
Clearly, they are not meeting his needs. Daniel needs to spend with people who are training to work with children like Daniel.
Teachers tend to see his behaviour as subversive. I see it as something to be expected. Mister has a middle of the road approach. He explained that Daniel needs to be helped to help himself. I have a couple of ideas.
The next day I telephoned Daniel’s head teacher. I told him that I need to identify a pattern in Daniel’s behaviour. At present, feedback from school informs me of the teachers judgment on the behaviour not on the actual action. For example, if Daniel spends a morning throwing crayons around I am informed that Daniel is being disruptive.
I need to know exactly when he threw the crayons, how he threw them and who he threw them at.
If possible I need to know the colour of the crayons! I need to know everything in order to establish why Daniel has done it.
The head teacher told me that Daniel has not thrown any crayons this week. There was a smile in his voice. I suggested that I should spend some time in the classroom observing Daniel. I could be disguised as a parent helper. Parents do not usually help in a class of older children but it is not unheard of.
The head teacher thought that it was a great idea. He said that my occasional presence might have the dual effect of calming Daniel.
Full of confidence I explained my next idea. This was about part-time attendance at the pupil referral unit. The head teacher agreed that this might be the answer. He told me that he will discuss it with the new teacher and the man from the PRU. He will telephone me next week. Perhaps we are getting somewhere.
One week later and Daniel’s head teacher telephoned me today. The new teacher was horrified at my idea. He thinks that my presence might make the children show-off. Showing-off would distract them from their S.A.T.S.
The head teacher explained that he has to support his staff. Of course he does. He went on to explain that after a discussion with the man from the PRU it has been decided that Daniel will not attend the pupil referral unit on a part-time basis. The head teacher thinks that Daniel should have a good stab at his S.A.T.S.
He hopes that I support his decision. Of course I do. I always do.
Daniel came home from school today and told me that he can no longer do his office job before school and at play time. The new teacher says he has to concentrate on his S.A.T.S. Daniel says that he has to sit outside the staff room at play time in case he hits someone. Daniel thinks that it is a good idea because he does not want to hit anyone.
It is my birthday, 5th April 2000. I have had two cards from Daniel.
One was from Daniel and one was from his dad in case he forgot.
Daniel has generously included best wishes from Duster and Tigger on his card because dogs and cats do not get pocket-money.
I have consumed an Indian take away and my 50% share of a bottle of wine.
The light from the candles on my cake is reflected in Daniel’s eyes. I have read all my cards. I am secure in the knowledge that I am a wonderful wife, a dear daughter, a loving sister, a true friend and the best mum in the world. Tonight, when I go to bed I will count my blessings. I will be asleep before I reach a million.
My birthday bouquets from Daniel’s Grandma has breathed its last breath. The bulk of it is on its way to an anonymous land-fill site. A single yellow rose has survived. It is pressed between the pages of Delia Smith.
Another meeting at school. There have been no recent problems so it was a good time for a review.
We arrived at the appointment time with our social worker. Daniel’s head teacher was there. The behaviour support worker sent her apologies. The new teacher was a bit tied up. I sat next to Mister.
He looked confused. The head teacher announced that the purpose of the meeting was to discuss Daniel’s future with regard to a comprehensive school. I had forgotten all about comprehensive schools. It was decided that Daniel should attend a comprehensive school which prides itself on accepting nice children from nice families. The particular school is the bees knees. All the pupils are busy little bees who work hard for their GCSEs. I pointed out that there is another dimension to Daniel. The head teacher informed me that Daniel’s problems would not be a problem. We will all work in partnership with the new school. Our social worker looked at me, I looked pale, Daniel’s dad looked relieved, Mister looked confused.
May 2000. Daniel told me that he had done his S.A.T.S. I should have remembered. Today we went to see Mister. Mister is confident that Daniel will be alright at comprehensive school if everything goes alright. I do not share his confidence. I am worried that things might not go all right. I am a cynic and a pessimist. I am Daniel’s mum.
Mister said that if things go alright at comprehensive school he will discharge Daniel at October half term. What about me? I do not want to be discharged.
Today, Daniel did not go for a cup of tea with his dad. I wanted to tell Mister that Daniel’s behaviour is being repressed at school.
Daniel is still sitting outside the staff room at play time and he is still coming home for lunch. Other children in his class are celebrating the end of S.A.T.S by playing rounders and videos at lunch time. Daniel is having beans on toast with his dad.
Apart from that, Daniel’s shoulders are down. I know all about Daniel’s shoulders. I am his mum.
I have just returned from another meeting at school. The focus of the meeting was to establish how Daniel will cope with comprehensive school. We arrived with our social worker, the head teacher was there, the behaviour support worker sent her apologies, The new teacher was a bit tied up. Mister sat next to me.
The head teacher introduced a Grey haired lady from the comprehensive school. The Grey lady was a colourful character who made amusing comments and copious notes. If all the staff at the comprehensive school are like the Grey lady everything will be alright. She was genuinely interested in Daniel’s past, present and future. She explained that Daniel will have no problems at his new school. The school is committed to equal opportunities. We will be contacted by the special educational needs coordinator within the week.
Two weeks go by and the special educational needs coordinator has not contacted us. Daniel has passed his S.A.T.S.
July 2000 and Daniel has visited his new school today. He likes it.
The boys toilets have urinals and the girls toilets have Tampax machines.
Daniel asked me what Tampax are for. I told him. He already knew.
The day before the last day of term and Daniel came home from school, he announced that he is going to be an artist in the end of term play. I had a ninety minutes shopping time to provide a suitable outfit. We dashed into town and bought a beard.
The performance was after school today. At four o’clock Barney called to escort us to school. Barney left the school last year to go to comprehensive. He sees himself as an important visitor at the local primary. Barney’s best jacket and mobile phone gave him celebrity status. We were proud to be escorted by him.
I did not see the play. I only saw Daniel. At the end of the performance the head teacher gave a little speech wishing the best of luck to the leavers. He congratulated them on the play and on passing their S.A.T.S. The head teacher said that over the past few years some children have had a higher mountain to climb. Never the less, through hard work and determination they have climbed the mountain. Then he asked Daniel to step forward. As Daniel stood at the front of the stage his head teacher shook hands with him.
Everyone clapped, they clapped very loudly. Barney stood up and clapped, so did Daniel’s dinner lady and Daniel’s first teacher. Many others followed suit. They were applauding Daniel. The bad times melted away.
I went to the Spar shop today for the morning paper. The mother of the head boy smiled at me. she was at the school play. the bread man came in and he smiled at me. He wasn’t at the school play.
Perhaps he has heard about it. The lollypop lady came in and smiled at me. She must have heard about it. The women who stacks the shelves has definitely heard about it. I have just told her. She smiled at me. I am walking on air.
August 2000. I am standing in Marks and Spencer’s. I am buying Daniel’s new school uniform. Daniel is out of my control. He is the men’s changing room. I am surrounded by parents who are buying new school uniforms.
It is a well known fact that new uniforms have to be much too big. It is nothing to do with growing into them. The poor, innocent child needs somewhere to hide when the big world gets too big. I know this through painful experience. When I went to grammar school I hid in my big blazer for years. A week before my ‘O’ levels I popped out with bad acne and a clear plan for an active sex life.
My parents bought me a bigger blazer. The school insisted.
Today is the day when we will buy everything. We are a well organised family. We have decided to split the shopping list. We will meet in one hour at the centre of the shopping centre. Daniel will come with me to buy essential items. His dad will go for a coffee.
We have just bought a calculator and a Spanish dictionary. Daniel is going to do Spanish in two years time. He needs the dictionary now.
It is on the list, along with a new school bag.
In my day we had a satchel. Now a days school bags need to carry fifteen books, a math’s set, a P.E. kit and a letter from parents excusing the child from P.E. My satchel carried a lipstick, a lockable diary, a sanitary towel and a letter from my parents excusing me from P.E. The world has changed.
There are not many shopping days left to the start of the new term.
I am standing at the appointed place at the appointed time. Daniel and I arrived without essential items. We have been for a coffee. Daniel’s dad arrived with a brand new watch. Daniel’s name is engraved on the back. He told Daniel that the watch is not just for passing his S.A.T.S. It is because he is Daniel.