Saturday, May 6, 2017
I took OB to see the school nurse this week. The appointment was triggered by the education team at the LA because it had come to their attention that OB was being electively home educated. To be honest, I was pleased the appointment was made, and happy to attend. I took him to have his hearing checked myself, and am planning to take him for a vision check in the near future. I don't want him to miss out on the health checks he would have received as a matter of course if he had been in school.
It's never really obvious what to expect at these sorts of appointments. The invitation letter had been characteristically terse and to the point, so it was tricky to prepare OB for an appointment that I felt sure would involve some scrutiny of him personally and therefore be well outside his comfort zone.
When we arrived at the clinic, there was nobody else there at all. The nurse bounded in, seeming very pleased to see us (it later transpired that hardly anyone turns up to these appointments!), and then stared at me for a moment before asking me if I was a foster carer. It turns out she had previously been a LAC Nurse.
It can be strange, and sometimes disconcerting, when two worlds collide but, as the appointment went on, I began to feel very glad that this person had not only met me before, but also clearly knew and understood some of the additional issues we face as an adoptive family.
The health check included the basic height and weight check that I had been expecting, but after that it mainly seemed to focus on behaviour. The nurse asked me a lot of questions about OB's behaviour, right in front of him, which I found pretty difficult to answer without getting into areas I didn't really want to bring up.
Added to that, both of the children were reacting as usual to me actually attempting to have a coherent conversation with someone other than them. At the point at which I was trying to explain how we had accessed post-adoption support (using as many acronyms as possible in the hopes that OB wouldn't cotton on!), Birdy was under the nurse's desk trying to steal things out of her bag, and OB was lying on the floor near me fake-laughing really loudly!
How grateful I was, at that point, to be speaking to somebody who already knew all the acronyms and to whom so much could just go unsaid. She didn't bat an eyelid at OB's antics, and put some video on her computer for Birdy to watch so that we could actually speak to each other. She understood my concerns at filling in the 2-page form about behavioural issues, and reassured me that my honest assessment would not trigger a deluge of inappropriate interventions.
As a home educator, whenever I attend any meeting with 'the authorities' I know that I am under scrutiny. I know that what we do is out of the norm, and that some are suspicious. I know that some children, sadly, do slip under the radar. This is why I make it my business to co-operate fully with the LA, to attend all the appointments, to be as open and honest as possible. I hope that in doing so, the difference between those who electively home educate, and those who just opt out and drift away will be reinforced in the minds of those whose job it is to keep their eyes open for signs of trouble.
However, I am also aware that this can come with a risk; that it exposes us to all sorts of 'authorities' who may have precious little understanding of the particular challenges that we sometimes face, and who have fairly extensive power to intervene in our lives. I mean, how would the average person react to the sight of a 'home educated' 6-year-old lying on the floor of the nurse's office making robot noises and emitting great guffaws of forced, fake laughter?
At that appointment, I was grateful for the 'crossover', grateful not to have to try to explain why I prioritise attachment over KS1 attainment descriptors, grateful not to be forced to go into personal details of my son's history while he was in the room with me. I was grateful to be with someone who just 'gets it'.
And, as a measure of how well she 'gets it', the nurse handed me a sheaf of leaflets as I left. These are guidance sheets produced by the local CAMHS to assist those parenting children who have experienced early trauma, abuse and neglect. They cover eating difficulties, attachment difficulties, empathy, stealing behaviours, lying behaviours and the importance of play. They are very, very good. It made me wonder why, as a LA foster carer, I had never seen them before!