I listened, from the other side of the door. Leave him they said, he will be fine. We will deal with him. You go home.”
Go home they said. I was to go home with feelings of being helplessly pushed out of my child’s life at a time when he needed me most, the same feelings as every day.
Every day I left him there so upset because he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to be there, it was all too much, but he had to.
He had to, they told me. If he didnt they wouldn’t have the evidence, he wouldn’t get the help. He would be stuck in mainstream education forever.
Forever. That’s what it seemed like as I stood outside that door. I didn’t go home straight away that day. I listened.
I listened as five adults surrounded my eight year old. As he was held down, restrained they called it.
Restrained by five scary people, most he didn’t know, one was shouting at him, telling him off.
Telling him off for having a meltdown because it was all too much. Surrounding him unnecessarily when he was only eight.
Only eight! Autistic with sensory processing difficulties and hyperacusis where loud sounds hurt his ears. Loud sounds like shouting.
Shouting so loud that I could hear on the other side of the door, down the corridor, through another door, outside.
Outside as I was pushed away, locked out of the school. Locked out of my childs life, tears streaming down my face, my insides twisted in pain. Helpless because I felt I had no choice and I regret it.
I regret it to this day, that I ever left him there. That I left him in their care. That I trusted what they said. That I thought they knew what they were doing.
But what they were doing was damaging my child. Making him worse. Making him hate school more. They would hate it too if they were surrounded by five people twice their size, being shouted at, held down. They too would have lashed out and screamed if someone did that to them. They would have fought.
I fought, I fought hard and I got him help, I got him out eventually but I regret so much making my baby go there. I found out how bad it was when he moved somewhere better. I wish I had moved him, kept him home, anything I could. He doesn’t blame me.
He doesn’t blame me, he is happy I tried my best. He is thrilled to be where he is now but I still feel the pain.
The pain I felt as I stood outside that door.
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