Angels, Aleppo and Appreciation

**I wrote this last year but discovered it again this morning. I wanted to share it, even if it's somewhat out of date & a slight departure from what I normally focus on **

Today has been a game of two halves - two polar opposites of emotion. I went to bed last night consuming the news coming out of Aleppo and as my head hit the pillow, tears rolled down my cheeks. With each new tweet the horrors unfolded...medics being murdered, those loyal servants to their people who have worked tirelessly to protect & mend their fellow human beings, women and children reportedly being executed on sight and hundreds of men missing. I watched videos of Syrians begging, yes begging, for international support, for salvation, for our aid. This is not new - they have been calling more intensely on us for several months now but government after government around the world have put their hands over their ears and eyes. Members of the public who have become so used to these images, Tim Farron described it as 'compassion fatigue', have become beguiled by fanatics telling us these children, these families needing our help are terrorists wanting to harm us.

I can openly admit that I have become somewhat obsessed with Syria, with Aleppo. I feel no shame in that - my obsession comes from a place of disbelief that we have not helped, that genocide is taking place yet we, humanity, has become so isolationist, so self absorbed that we have idly sat back and allowed this massacre come to pass.

This morning as I brushed my eldest daughter's hair, I tried to imagine what my fellow parents were enduring in Aleppo. With each brushstroke I pictured the devastation of not being able to protect your child, knowing that your life was likely to be lost and I wondered the fury that must be racing through their veins knowing the whole world knows what is happening and is simply ignoring it. As we walked to school I felt a sense of both sadness and appreciation. Sadness at being so utterly redundant to help, so pathetically incapable of making a difference. Appreciation that we were free and safe to live life - to criticise our government without fear of reprisal, to question decisions, to walk in our town without threat of violence. I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt at that feeling - why should some of us be lucky and some not.

I then attended my youngest daughter's first Nativity...it was a beautiful cohesion of shambolic loveliness. Little people singing, dancing, forgetting their lines, pulling their skirts up over their heads and yet it was entirely peaceful. As I watched Bean, again I felt total appreciation for seeing her fulfilling the role of angel. Three years ago, I wondered if my little baby who was skin and bone, floppy and desperately unwell, would make it to her first birthday, let alone the joy of her first show. As that sense of gratitude washed through me and I listened to the Priest's words about reminding ourselves to be kind, to care for others and protect one another, I felt both hope and despair. Hope that Bean had achieved so much and despair of the world she was growing into.

The juxtaposition of those emotions reminded me to never stop thinking of those people in Aleppo, to not remain silent & pretend it isn't happening. To shout from the rooftops that we must do more to be kind, to care for, to protect. I've lost my faith in God, in fact I'm very angry with him, but I do hope that the messages I heard today disseminate. For every awful atrocity that we hear of, it is a scar on humanity. It should hurt every single one of us because the day it doesn't, we are truly lost. With every cruel act we are consistently seeing both the negligence & then the beauty of mankind. Men and women running to help, people donating time, money, possessions to those in need. If that behaviour, that spirit, could be channeled up to government what a difference we could actually make.

Bibi xx

EDUCATORS, choose your words wisely...

As an ex teacher (of many many years), I write these words from both the perspective of a parent and a teacher...

This week has been wonderful, well until today. On Tuesday I watched on as my youngest, Bean, took part in her first Nativity. She was an angel, both figuratively and literally. With each new song, she sang the words, did all the actions and remained on stage despite a lot of her little comrades needing to be comforted by their parents. I left on a complete high - she had finished her first term of preschool, developmentally had come on leaps and held her own on stage. Her targets from October had been met and she had made it into the 30-50 month development bands (she was 3 in September).

Then today, I came to collect her from the Friday session to be greeted by a rather stressed looking Preschool Manager. She, LOUDLY, asked if I could stay behind and give her tips on how to "manage" my daughter. Rather unfortunately I had my eldest with me too, so the impending conversation had to be done while trying to keep both girls calm and sensible. She proceeded to tell me that they were "at the end of their tether" with her as she was emptying boxes repeatedly, had scribbled in books, had broken a few items belonging to the preschool - today she took the keys off their laptop keyboard, which was presented to me in front of onlookers of both staff and parents for maximum levels of embarrassment.. "We're short-staffed", "we can't accept this if it's costing us money". So, I questioned what the sanctions were for a child who is repeatedly disobeying their rules. This question seemed foreign - the reply left me rather dumbfounded  "no, we've never put her in time out, we just tell her not to do it again". We leapt from never instilling sanctions to "we think she should have a 1:1".

As any good educator knows, management of behaviour is a series of steps. Setting out expectations, finding a hook that can get buy in from a child to want to follow the rules and creating a pathway that works for both the child and school. Bean's keyworker has been away for approximately a month now - she has targets from her portage teacher and the preschool follow them. She has really missed her keyworker, frequently asking me where she is. Yet, none of this was taken into account. Instead I left feeling humiliated, that they didn't want her there and that a lack of staff planning had resulted in a rather difficult day.

Now, before anyone says I'm simply shifting blame or responsibility...I'm not. I believe if she misbehaves there should be a consequence - there always is at home. I even made this point in our initial meeting, reiterating a number of times that they would need to be firm. Instead I feel they've made no attempt to put in place basic, yes basic, measures to ensure she knows what is allowed and what is not. I respect that we often have to hear (or say, when we're on the other side!)  unpleasant things but it is the manner in which we deliver that information that leaves a parent feeling safe, secure and reassured that the child needs help, rather then they are a burden. It is also essential to keep a parent informed. Until today, I was under the impression that Bean was doing fabulously. She was attentive, making excellent progress and was kind. So today came as a shock. 

Being an educator gives you enormous power, with profound responsibility. Every word you utter provokes a reaction and a parent doesn't simply hear and forget; rather, they swallow it, digest it and frequently feel the need to regurgitate it over and over again. You are responsible for how difficult and sensitive information is delivered - you find a way to communicate that in an honest yet supportive manner. By conducting this in an open environment you are leaving a parent to feel exposed - you are laying bare all the inner concerns or worries that keep them awake at night. Privacy and compassion are essential - ask a member of staff to tend to the children so that you can speak with the parent, to allow them to cry (if they feel compelled to do so) without fear of upsetting their offspring; or simply schedule a meeting at an appropriate time where an open debate can take place and you move forward united in the best interests of the child. 

Anyone who has worked in the classroom knows that the end of term often brings out the worst in children who are tired, facing chaotic changes to their routines and are excited for the imminent arrival of the big guy in the red suit. Today, has left me feeling despondent and disappointed. After a term which has radiated such success, I move towards next week feeling like I want to pick Bean up and never go back.

So finally...Educators, teachers, keyworkers, please choose your words carefully. They have an impact and when a parent already has what feels like the weight of the world on their shoulders, you can make or break them. 

Hope Is A Waking Dream

Yesterday evening I had one of those awful moments where something happy led to a wave of sorrow. We'd had a great day - fab news from Bean's observations from her keyworker at preschool; things like that always lift my spirits and make me feel confident in the approach we're taking. We'd come home, played some games, sang a few songs and laughed a lot. As I held her in my arms and looked into her smiling eyes, I felt a tsunami of emotions hit me. 

In an instant I'd leapt forward 10 years imagining having to discuss the difficulties she might face...the major one being sustaining relationships or having a family. I pictured this beautiful person suddenly having a whole wealth of problems and anxieties firmly being sewn to her shoulders...and my heart broke. Knowing that it would be me, my voice, sharing that news with her and being aware that I'd be watching her innocence evaporate as each word would be uttered.

You see, the every day doesn't frighten me. We live and breathe genetics and the impact it has on our lives - for the most part we've been incredibly lucky and she has been quite the enigma, rarely possessing the vast traits of WS. But the future? That has the power to send me into a quivering wreck. I get moments where I wish I could place her in a little bubble and prevent her from facing any of the potential hurt and sadness that's round the corner. I would happily share my home with her for the rest of our lives but I know that wouldn't be enough for her. She has a zest and power for life, for new experiences. It's those awful glimpses into the future when I abandon my normal positivity and begin only seeing negatives. 

It's in moments like this that you have to take a breath...catch yourself and say that the only thing that counts is right now, this minute, this second. Guarantees and certainties simply don't exist for any family but perhaps those of us with children with SEND know this or feel this more than most. Today is the focus and tomorrow should be viewed with hope. As Aristotle said 'Hope is a waking dream'. Hope is the vessel that will guide us to tomorrow and great things can & will be achieved. As long as hope fires our core, the conversations of the future, the moments of sadness can be vanquished by the joy, love and dream of all that she is and will be capable of. 

Bibi xx

Follow me on twitter @BibiMac3

Friday Favourites...COLOUR!

So apparently "the purest and most thoughtful minds are those that love colour" (according to John Ruskin, an art critic from years & years ago...I only know this thanks to Google). Well, I absolutely do not possess a pure mind, although I hope at least it is thoughtful; but I simply adore colour...the brighter the better & if it clashes then we've pretty much hit the jackpot!

Over the last few years I have become obsessed with bright, bold & brash colours - I basically want everything around me to bring a splash of rainbow. I think my husband is relieved that this passion didn't spring when we were decorating our house four years ago...otherwise I dread to think what I would've done! I seek out anything that is colourful - from utensils to art work*...I might even have bought myself four luminous cleaning cloths this week (I know, ridiculous, but if I've got to clean I might as well be holding something vaguely cheerful - this is what I'm telling myself anyway). 

Our utensils pot and cutlery drawer kind of represent a clown's approach to accessorising & furnishing a home but I am unashamedly proud of my choices ...the husband is pretty good about my love for all things vibrant. I do sometimes wonder what he thinks as he delves in to grab a knife & fork and is greeted with a crazy menagerie of hues, tones & tints! Can I just add that the picture of my cutlery is after a major spring clean…it normally does NOT look like that.

I adore Cath Kidston, so my tableware is a full on chintz overdose, mixed with random coloured cutlery. I can almost see my mum squirm when I hand her a mismatched knife and fork!! But I love it - sitting down to a vivid table, all agleam with oranges, yellows, pinks... perfection. I've now invested in coloured glasses, champagne flutes & everything else you can imagine. Today, I excitedly (yes, I'm embarrassed for myself) bagged a little bargain from Tesco...a pack of 4 plastic garden tumblers for £1.50. Though, I have zero intention of waiting for a sunny day to enjoy these beauts...they are already stashed in the cupboard waiting for the girls to enjoy. 

For me, colour represents feeling - the more sumptuous the tones I am enveloped in, the better I feel and these days I truly believe that you need to do whatever it takes to keep smiling and positive. The more colour I inject into my home, the brighter my soul feels.

Happy Friday and hoorah for the Bank Holiday weekend...yea!

Bibi xx

Follow my blog on Twitter @BibiMac3

*My pictures are from: 

Nick Prints - Beatles, London Rocks & London Calling

Yoni Alter via King & McGaw - London, Paris & Rio

I am Somebody...

Last year I watched a Ted Talk by Ruth Pierson. called 'Every Child Needs a Champion'...I found it so inspiring and uplifting that I wanted to write about it. For my entire twenties & my early thirties I was a teacher, who also worked within the Inclusion team. I adored teaching, I was enthusiastic to get out of bed every morning - eager to get to school to make an impact on the children's lives. Now, I'm not for one second suggesting that every single lesson I wrote or delivered was outstanding, of course not, but I did truly believe in my profession and the children in my class. 

Being a teacher is a privilege - you can enable children to excel and achieve, you witness lightbulb moments when something just clicks & you share in their discovery/enlightenment. But not every child gets to make these leaps as instantaneously as others. You can see the prospect of learning is exhausting - mentally, physically & emotionally. Imagine how that must feel? That every day is a chore, a battlefield even. You have to fight to stop yourself drowning & yet you are still expected to fit into a rigid school environment that only bends & flexes if you are fortunate enough to have a passionate teacher, Head, Inclusion team & LSA. All of those individuals play an integral part in keeping a child with additional needs buoyant & successful...they are the child's champion.

Having been at the coal face of education, it is logical then that I face the prospect of my youngest's steps towards school with rather a high dose of anxiety. I feel frustrated that so many factors need to align in order for her experience to be fruitful. For the last 2.5 years I have been her champion: I have fought for her, I have knocked down Drs offices, pestered Consultant's secretaries, I've worked on every target set, attended endless appointments on her behalf, brought myself to my knees at times because I am determined to see her succeed. Relinquishing the reins is a challenge, but I hope that the school of our choice will echo my feelings and champion my daughter - in her strengths and her weaknesses. 

Rita Pierson said: "I am somebody. I was somebody before I came and I'll be a better somebody when I leave. I am powerful and I am strong. I deserve the education that I get here. I have things to do, people to impress and places to go. If you say it long enough, it starts to be part of you." These words are true - every child is a somebody. Every child deserves their education. I hope that all teachers watch this video & take note. To hold a child's education in your hands is a precious gift. You get one chance to make a difference, one opportunity to make an impact and one year to show a child that they are important, worthy & valued. It is irrelevant if the child before you is surpassing all expectations or not...the responsibility is yours & you must respect it. Thank goodness for teachers like Rita Pierson...may other educators take her lead. After all, as it has been said many times before "To the world you may be one person but to one person you may be the world." Every child needs to be treated as an individual & every teacher has the power, in fact the duty, to empower them to reach their goals. We are all Somebody. 

Bibi xx

Follow my blog on Twitter  @BibiMac3