Sometimes I wonder whether this blog is a sort of something and nothing kind of creature. It’s not wholly a parenting blog. Neither is it wholly a teaching one. It’s not totally devoted to the boy in the title, or to one particular ideology, or anything else really. What it is is a reflection. It’s a reflection of some of the things I’ve learned since my boy appeared in my, in our, lives.
I don’t feel that I can advise anyone on how to bring up their child, Down Syndrome or otherwise. I can’t tell anyone how to teach, or what to teach. The older I get, the less certain I become of myself, of what I thought I knew. The more aware I am of the unending multitude of things I don’t know.
But what I can do is tell you my stories. I’m always learning from them. I learned from them at the time, and, through this blogging process, this reflection of our lives onto a computer screen, I learn again, perhaps even something different each time.
And what I learn I find that I can apply. I can apply it in my private, personal life, and I can apply it in my working life. When I started working in a school again, after my long absence, a good friend of mine, who is now a head teacher, told me that no prospective employer would be interested in what I have been up to, on my journey into motherhood. They would only be interested in my classroom practise. Well, I’m afraid I disagree. My life cannot be compartmentalised into ‘home’ and ‘school’. What I learn from one, I have no choice in taking through to the other. I do not take off one person and put on another when i am in different situations.
So I tell you my stories, in my attempt to make sense of the world about me, to learn, and apply what I have learned from my experiences. And I refuse to think that they are irrelevant, that the personal, the emotional, the different does not matter, isn’t relevant, doesn’t fit in to the Grand Scheme Of Things. Thank you for reading them, thank you from the bottom of this uncertain heart, and take from them what you will.