Blast From the Past

I’ve got one of those things on my Facebook app that shows me what I posted ‘on this day that is not today’ and this is what it chose to show me this morning; a post I wrote in a state of rage and distress, many years ago, a description of one of the experiences that led to the creation of this blog.

I had a long conversation the other day with a good friend of mine about catharsis. For a long time, incidents like this sat like a lead weight on my heart; they weighed me down. They sat on my shoulder and whispered angry words, they dug in their claws, increased my confusion.  They refused to let me go.

It’s been a long journey away from that place for me, but I’d like to bet that someone somewhere is hearing these words. I’d like to bet that someone somewhere, today, is reeling from the shock of being told that teaching their child isn’t their job.

I wept oceans then.  I weep no longer.

Thank you for reading.

What on Earth?

Pardon me for thinking that the teaching of reading was actually the teacher’s job. Pardon me for thinking that those children who had difficulties in learning, whatever their level, formed quite an important part of a teacher’s day.

Pardon me for thinking that those for whom reading, writing and maths are actually quite easy, who come from loving, supportive homes, actually need less time from their teacher than those for whom reading, and even speaking, is difficult, who have parents who either do not care, or who have run out of energy, or who do not know where to turn, or who simply do not ‘fit in’ to school.

And pardon me for insisting, with every fibre of my being, that my son, my darling boy, who statistically stands a better chance than anyone else in his class of being bullied, sexually abused, marginalised and generally having a lower standard of life, pardon me for standing up for him and demanding his right to be taught, to take his place in the community in which he lives, from the very beginning.

And do not pardon me for continuing to believe that his place in a mainstream school is important, not just for him, but for everyone else in the school, adults and children, for showing them that people come in many forms, that regardless of their difficulties they can still have friends, be loved and love in return. That the so-called ‘normal’ people can learn as much from him as he can from them.

And then take a look at my son, and congratulate him for everything he has achieved, for being a real example of what can happen when someone who loves you believes in you.

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8 thoughts on “Blast From the Past

  1. Thanks for sharing, Nancy. Hope you feel that reading this shows you how far you, and Sam, have come – and the journey continues.

    1. It really does. I have moved on – and this blog has been part of that process. I feel in many ways that I have (almost) written the pain out of my system. Almost, but not quite.

      1. But feeling the pain is an important part of who you are and what motivates you – that’s a strength, Nancy.

      2. It upsets me when I see similar parents asking the same old questions – I suppose that’s why I keep on telling the stories. We have to challenge when we see things that are wrong, don’t we?

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