The teacher that didn’t understand.

As you came up to me after school, I knew we had a problem. That walk, the superior your son is a pain walk, towards me in the playground.

You started to tell me that my child, who you clearly thought was naughty, was messing around at dinner time and running away. That he had hidden in a bush and stayed there when he was meant to line up. That five of you had gathered round and told him to come out but he refused. He was rude to you. You told me you expected that behaviour from someone younger but my child should have known better. He was getting older, going into year five in September. It just wasn’t ok to behave like that anymore. He needed to listen and he just wasn’t listening.

Well I was listening then.

I was listening to someone who didn’t understand. I was listening to someone who thought they knew everything because they had done the training but didn’t know my child. I was listening to a teacher that saw a child, my child, behaving badly but didn’t see what was going on. As you spoke to me I saw.

I saw my baby in the playground so scared because there was too much going on. I saw my little boy confused and all alone. I saw him hating the noise and wanting to get away because there were too many people. I saw him find the only place he could in that busy playground, a bush where no one could get to him. I saw him scared and feeling like he couldn’t come out because there were adults all around his safe place making noise. People shouting and hurting his ears. Telling him to come out to line up with hundreds of other children. Something he just couldn’t do.

I know what you wanted. You wanted me to back you up. To tell him off. To say it won’t happen again. To agree with you. But when you were talking to me, I just wished.

I wished I could have been in that bush with my baby that day. Holding him. Talking softly and telling him it would be ok. I wished I could have taken my little boy away, far away.

And as I sat with my child that night, with tears streaming down his face. As I listened to him say he would rather be dead than go to school and as I held him as he cried himself to sleep. As I did that, I understood and I wished.

I wished you would understand.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. Please feel free to follow my blog or like my Facebook page which I keep up to date with new posts as they are written. I also have a closed Facebook group for sharing days out and holiday ideas and tips. You can find me on Twitter @KidsOnTour.

Published by Autism Kids on Tour - Autism without limits

I have two kids and love to show them the world. We dont let autism limit us in our adventures! I write about our adventures and include tips on how suitable activities were for children with autism. I also write more autism specific posts.

11 thoughts on “The teacher that didn’t understand.

  1. Oh my heart breaks for you and your son. I am a mother of an Aspie, now grown (25) and not diagnosed until 18. For years, she cried every day going to school, begging me not to take her. I tried again and again to talk to the teachers, but she fell through the cracks because she didn’t ‘act out’ in any way they thought particularly worrying. They cared more for the school’s overall grade score, the OFSTED system in the UK that gives schools a good or bad rating. Get those good grades kids and the school will get more kids and more money. Yes, I am wounded still from those school days. Your darling little boy, so terrified and misunderstood. Teachers should and must understand ASD. It is imperative. I weep with you until then…. Sherri

    1. Thank you Sherri, I am so sorry too for what your daughter went through. You are very right, when it comes down to it, its about funding and grades and not individuals. Understanding is key!

      1. Absolutely…I am so glad I found your blog through my friend Norah. I posted about Asperger’s over at Carrot Ranch and she linked to your post in her reply to it, so I came straight over to read it. My heart goes out to you…but know you are not alone in the struggle ❤

  2. I’m crying while I type. Unfortunately, you and your son must educate the educators. Take a copy of your eloquent essay, gather info from TEACCH, contact psychiatrists and autism experts, bury them with so much information that they can’t ignore their ignorance. Get other parents to demand a change. It’s hard… I know. My son was diagnosed at age 2 because I wouldn’t stop. It gets better. You are your son’s champion. Never forget that. Good luck and God bless.

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