Who existed school?

We were sat in the car having just parked up for the second day of school this week. This morning had been a difficult one, a very difficult one and I knew my son was really feeling it. And my son looked at me said he felt sick and he didn’t want to go to school and then asked…

“Who existed school?”

He, of course, meant who invented school? This was a perfect example of how he mixed up words. His vocabulary was unbelievable for his age but every now and then he mixed up words in the most fascinating way. So he was always saying things like…

“I’m boiling thirsty.”
“I’m starving hot.”
“I’m sweating hungry.”
“I’m freezing tired.”

He also asked me the other day…

“Are you trustable?”

And I wasn’t sure whether he meant trustworthy or reliable…either way my answer was yes!! And I thought trustable was a great word, and definitely one I will use again. So who existed/invented school? Well I didn’t have an answer for him. A quick google told me it was St. Augustine who started the first school in England in the year 597. Great….another religious person to talk about with my son but I knew he wasn’t asking because of the religion side of it. He was asking because he probably wanted to have serious words with the person who invented school!!!!

I really wished I could fix it for him and I was trying, really trying. We knew this first week would be tough though (and probably all of them until the next holidays). In the run up to this week I had felt ill, absolutely ill. And I don’t think unless you were in the same situation you could ever know how horrible this feeling is. Knowing you have to send your child to a place that absolutely kills them mentally and physically. Knowing that the “support” from these places is not readily available because they either believe you to be the problem or the support just isn’t there despite it being a statutory requirement. Knowing that after fighting (sometimes literally) with your child for two hours or more to get them to school you then have to dry your eyes forget about what had just happened and somehow do a full days work. It is without a doubt the worst feeling I have ever had in my life. 

I gave it a lot of thought and I knew my instincts wouldn’t work in this scenario. Everything I need to do for my son sort of goes against my parenting instincts. If he’s upset my instinct is to cuddle him but he only likes being touched on his terms. If he’s angry my instinct is to talk to him to calm him but that is the worst thing you can do. And so dealing with his back to school anxiety needed some absolute preparation, some thinking outside the box. And so these were the preparations for the first day back…..

• I bought new school uniform but only the bare minimum and I didn’t throw any of the old uniform out until I was sure the new stuff was accepted by him. I washed all the new stuff so it smelled like our house. I cut tags out where needed. And the night before I got it out and showed it to my son so he was aware.
• I messaged my boss in the run up to the first school day just advising that I wasn’t sure how it would go and I may be late to the 9.30am meeting someone had inconveniently booked on the first day back at school and worst case scenario was I may not be there at all. 
• I agreed a strategy with my daughter. My daughter was 15 so could look after herself but I didn’t want her to think she was forgotten about in all this. Bad mornings really upset her so I wanted her to know that although I couldn’t be there with her I was thinking about her. If I text her with “code red” she would know it was a bad morning and she would sneak downstairs, get her breakfast, and go upstairs and eat it there so she wasn’t caught in the crossfire. We would remain in text communication. And she would go to school after getting picked up by her lift which I arranged for her – her school at one point said they could arrange transport for her because our school mornings had got so dire but I arranged with a family member to pick her up and take her. She could of course walk but there were many mornings where she was so upset that she needed to be able to hide in the car until her tears had gone.
• The day before school I set aside everything else and dedicated the whole day to my son. I did anything and everything he wanted. We did lots of digging in the garden, we built a den, we laid in bed together, we played with the guinea pig, we played chess, we visited my mum. I made sure my son was completely regulated.
• We drove past his school twice the day before. He gave it the side eye but I knew he had registered it.
• I told him I would be putting a note in his packed lunch every day so when it got to dinner he would read the note and know I was thinking about him. He really liked this idea. Really liked it.
• We created a “Goodbye Ritual”. My son had sort of done this himself (Read this blog post to see the rituals he had come up with up – Can you say this?) but I firmed it up by saying we would have 3 kisses on the playground, a cuddle, he would walk in and I would wave at him when he got to the door. He also liked this too. Really liked this.
• On the morning of school I knew I needed to be completely present, there wasn’t much I did for myself anyway on a school morning other than a shower so I decided to sacrifice my shower. I didn’t shower* I got up threw some clothes on, slapped my hair back in a bobble and made sure every spare minute I had I sat with my son. *I did eventually shower at dinnertime. I’m not disgusting!!

On the day before school he went to bed on the night absolutely fine. I couldn’t quite believe it. However he slept absolutely awful. He woke up at 11pm, he woke up at 1.30am, he woke up at 4.30am and then ironically I had to wake him up at 7am. But all was good. And we got to school relatively fuss free and all happy. I couldn’t quite believe that either.

When I picked him up from school he was good. I couldn’t quite believe that either. But then at bedtime as soon as it came to picking books to read he said he couldn’t decide and I knew then that what I had been waiting for was coming. As soon as his decision making goes out the window I know he is going to have a meltdown. He had 4 books picked out and he couldn’t decide which ones he wanted to read. I said I would wait for him to decide. He started crying. He flopped on the floor and said…

“I feel all funny, why do I feel like this?”

I really wanted to pick him up and sit him on my knee and cuddle him but I stayed rooted to where I was and said….

“We can read all 4 books if you want?”

Less words is definitely more in this situation. He started sobbing even more and said….

“But that wouldn’t be the usual would it? And I really want that bit of wood back on my door.”

I understood what he meant about the usual. We never read 4 books, we only read 2 and so although this would solve the problem for him not being able to pick, it wouldn’t be the usual routine. But the wood on his door took me a few seconds. Then I remembered….after we moved into this house 10 months ago I got a new carpet in my son’s bedroom. This meant his door couldn’t shut properly so we shaved a bit off the bottom of his door and that is what he was talking about. He wanted the thin bit of wood that was taken off his door 10 months ago sticking back on!!!! I remained quiet and allowed him to work through it all. He just laid there crying. He then said

“Why does this always happen after school?”

And I knew the answer was because school didn’t suit him. In his own words school made him feel “funny”. And it’s a work in progress trying to get any reasonable adjustments made for him. Nothing is immediate at all.  And I just waited for him to get out what he needed to get out. And as I sat there I thought about other times we had been in this situation. A couple of years ago when he said he couldn’t decide on a book I would almost force him into picking one, I would tell him he was being naughty and he needed to be asleep. But now I cant quite believe I did that. Because he wasn’t being naughty at all, he was in something he could not control at all. The progress I had made to understand my son was amazing even if I do say so myself and this aided my son to be able to understand himself better. And then after around 30 minutes of him being inconsolable and distressed just as quickly as it started it stopped. He looked at me and said..

“Shall we just read the 4 books then?”

And that is what we did. I read “Elephant Learns to Share”, “Lion is in a Flap”, “Turtle Moves House” and “Rhino Learns to be Polite”. It seemed to take an age but by 8.20pm my son was asleep. I knew that what had happened was an indicator for how the next morning would go so I got straight into bed but had a terrible nights sleep. The next morning, as predicted, was extremely tense. My son wouldn’t get out of bed and all the usual anxieties came out, he felt sick, he didn’t want to go to school, his legs were hurting etc etc.  It was hard to get him through his breakfast and get him dressed. I could see how desperately he didn’t want to go, I could see how “funny” it made him feel after a day at school and that right there is that worst feeling in the world. Knowing that you are sending your 6 year old child to a place that makes him feel so “funny” after just one day. I did eventually get him there for the day, but at what cost.

In the end, I realise that the challenges of school for my son is a continuous learning process, for both of us. It’s heartbreaking to see him struggle with something as fundamental as going to school, absolutely heartbreaking. It’s so much more than just not liking school. And knowing that the system is often slow to adapt to his needs is infuriating. But in those moments when he lets me in, when he voices his discomfort or mixes up his words in the most endearing ways, I know that me and him are making progress together. School might make him feel “funny,” but together, we’ll keep finding ways to help him feel heard, understood, and, most importantly, supported. Because as much as he asks, “Who existed school?” what really matters is how we exist for each other.