It’s About Not Being Singled Out

What good is an ‘inclusive’ education if it means you’re rarely in the classroom, can’t attend after- school clubs, and the presence of a TA highlights your special status at every turn, asks Nancy Gedge...

When my son Sam was born, and we discovered that he had Down Syndrome, I never thought that he would go anywhere else other than the local school. As he grew, and he and I made our way round the local mother and toddler groups, the drop ins, the nursery sessions, as well as various special needs groups, I saw how other people responded to him, how when they saw my acceptance, they accepted him too. Right from the start, I was convinced that his inclusion in a mainstream school was as good for everyone else as it was for him. He is a living expression of the variety of human existence, and we can all learn from that.

I freely admit, though, in the early days, it had more to do with me than it did with him. For us, as a family, it went a long way towards ‘normalising’ our experience. Part of what you do when you find that your beloved child has a little something extra is work hard to reclaim the common ground, to emphasise what you share with other families. It’s all part of the process of acceptance, of coming to terms with the not-quite-the-same situation you find yourself in, of moving on with confidence into an uncertain future. So you might be surprised to hear that Sam is no longer in mainstream education. These days he goes to a special school.

The moment we stepped through the door we knew that this was the place for him. For a start, it was small. He would be in a class of nine children; he wouldn’t have to fight for attention from the teacher. The chance that he would get lost coming back from the toilets was considerably lessened.

Now, thanks to the nature of the school, Sam benefits from fully personalised learning, driven by his needs, rather than those of a National Curriculum. He has a detailed IEP that covers not just academic learning, but his behaviour and social needs too. And there is no personalised TA. One of the things we worried about was friendships – if there is always an adult hanging around, filtering, editing, how would he ever make friends of his own? How would he ever get a girlfriend (heaven forbid!)? How must it feel to be constantly singled out as different? Special.

If he carried on in mainstream, into an even bigger school, would he ever make it into to the football team? After all, he never even made it into an after-school club – after the time he decided to investigate the perma-skip in the corner of the playground. Would he be in the choir, or the school play? What chance did he have of experiencing any of these things, because none of them happened during his primary years.

When we considered his schooling, we couldn’t help but bring my teaching experience along to the party, because, when you think about it, it’s about more than what is going on with books, targets and IEPs. Just what is life like for children with SEN in mainstream education? How much time do they spend with the teacher? Just how included into the wider life of the school are they? Interventions are all very well, but what are they missing while they are working in a small group? Is it art? Is it music? Perhaps it’s PE or geography, or any of the other subjects deemed non- essential, but which go so far in giving children a balanced education and the chance to shine. And where do these groups take place? Are they in a classroom, a small group room, or, maybe, in the corridor – in small, draughty corners, tucked away in the hope of a bit of peace and quiet?

I ask these questions because I, as a teacher and a mother, don’t believe that the sum total of a school experience, of an inclusive education, comes down to classroom attainment. It’s more than that. It’s about playtime, and clubs, and learning to stand on your own two feet. It’s about birthday parties, and holiday activities, play dates and friends you made on your own because they share your interests. It’s about independence, yet being part of the group. It’s about not being singled out thanks to the presence of a TA. It’s about learning to sit still in assembly, or storytime, just like everyone else. It’s about partaking in the life, being part of the beating heart of the school.

About the author

Nancy Gedge is a primary teacher in Gloucestershire. She blogs at notsoordinarydiary.wordpress.com