Being a mother of three school-aged children, two of whom are neurodivergent, I am closely following the government’s proposed changes to Special Educational Needs and Disabilities (SEND) provision, a matter of great interest to many parents in similar situations.
At first glance, the planned reforms seem encouraging. The idea of establishing an inclusive education system that caters to all children’s requirements is a significant advancement in enhancing support for those with special educational needs. However, what stands out to me in this strategy is the apparent lack of comprehension regarding the genuine challenges faced by parents of neurodiverse children and the myriad difficulties that the bustling school environment poses for their kids.
Most secondary schools have student populations exceeding 1,000 – our own school is nearing 1,500 enrolled pupils.
Numerous neurodiverse children experience sensory processing issues, and the social pressures they encounter along with the fast pace of school life push them to their limits, often leading to school refusal and subsequent mental health challenges.
While creating a quiet space, adopting a more therapeutic teaching approach, and having a speech therapist visit weekly can address some issues, all these efforts become inconsequential if a child is too overwhelmed to even enter the school premises.
The government seems to have missed the core issue at hand. Instead of attempting to extract more from an outdated education system, it should allocate resources towards constructing additional schools with smaller settings and reduced class sizes.
Our eldest child was homeschooled for three years after successfully concealing her autism diagnosis during primary school. The transition to secondary school brought about significant challenges as she struggled to cope with the heightened demands placed on her. It was only when she discontinued her education due to severe mental health issues that a specialist suggested she might be autistic.
This initiated a lengthy process of seeking a diagnosis. Faced with a three-year waiting list for an NHS assessment in our area, we pursued a private diagnosis at considerable expense. The diagnostic service was reputable, staffed with experts in the field, and conducted a thorough evaluation. Trusting the outcome, it was confirmed that our daughter indeed has autism.
The diagnosis provided much-needed clarity, answering numerous questions about her challenges in attending school and struggling with various aspects of life. As a parent, I felt a mix of immense guilt for not recognizing the signs earlier and frustration towards those who may perceive children with SEND challenges as merely a result of inadequate parenting or unwarranted diagnoses.
She now receives exceptional tutoring funded by the council through the school, showing progress across all facets of her life. However, her achievements are largely attributed to obtaining an Education, Health, and Care Plan (EHCP) and the associated funding for genuine, tailored support.
The thought of another child like my daughter being directed to a crowded school setting to address their educational needs with minimal support is alarming. It is akin to sending a soldier with PTSD back to the battlefield, reassuring them that it is slightly less intimidating now – an unimaginable scenario.
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