My saving grace came when, unknown to me, my CAMHS worker approached her boss for advice, all her techniques to force a ‘school refuser’ to attend having failed. He thought for a while and then turned to her and said ‘Perhaps we need to consider the possibility that it isn’t that she won’t go to school, but that in actual fact she can’t.’ The simple reason none of the tried and tested methods to deal with a ‘school refuser’ hadn’t worked were because of one simple but apparently easy to overlook fact: I was not a school refuser.
Once this was established there was a large meeting with a variety of professionals and my mother, who to her credit was incredibly polite and patient, given that until the professionals themselves had eventually come to decide that I was unable to attend school she was being continually cast as a soft and easily manipulated mother, when in fact she had tried both tough and caring tactics to get me into school and had realised first, as a mother, the truth of the matter; the difference between won’t and can’t.
Discussions began with the educational welfare officer as to what would be the best course of action from here. To all it was finally crystal clear that I could not continue at this particular high school, the question now remained, where else would I go? Another school across town which had a good reputation for supporting special needs was suggested, but eventually this was shot down as we realised it wasn’t necessarily my school that was the problem (although at times it certainly didn’t help itself), but instead all schools.
When we arrived home my mother and father discussed the matter at length, while I, heady with relief retired to my room, changing out of my uniform into jeans and a T-shirt with a sigh. My grandmother who resided in Devon called and she was filled in on the predicament. With her usual incredible generosity she offered to help pay for me to attend a smaller, less threatening private school if that was what was needed. Again, this option was discussed but ultimately discarded, as if I did fail to attend at a private school it would be a colossal waste of money.
Eventually an old idea vaguely touched upon during the previous year was raised. The nearest Pupil Referral Unit, which catered for students who for whatever reason were unable to attend school. We were initially concerned as to whether I would be placed with students who had been excluded from their schools, which was not the end of the spectrum of none-attendees that I belonged to, however upon finding out that the Unit was divided over two sites, one for those who were expelled and struggled with issues such as violent and anti-social behaviour, and another for those who suffered from school phobia, had had to leave due to pregnancy, and so on.
After much debate it was decided that this would be the best course of action, and after a place was secured I ceased my education at Lyde High School. On the last day I was shocked at the amount my fellow students appeared to care about my leaving. I hadn’t thought I had made that much of an impact, apart from to occasionally provide gossip. I was presented with a large card organised by Shirley with message after message from my friends and classmates, full of in-jokes (such as a fake address to lesbian porn site) that I had forgotten, good luck for the future and regret that I had to leave. Despite the difficulties I had experienced at Lyde I left with a warm heart towards my fellow students. Sometimes all that is needed to warm you through is for someone to care.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter
My first day at Hope Place, the pupil referral unit, was a nerve wracking one. I felt keenly the pressure for somehow, someway this to work, for me to be able to scrape together some semblance of an education. I was to receive, to my initial relief but later frustration, only two hours of education a week as, on a technical basis I was ‘refusing’ usual state education as oppose to those who had been expelled who had no choice in the matter, and consequently received around 6 hours. Neither amount of time would realistically be enough to gain many qualifications.
Arriving at the rugby stadium which housed the unit Mum and I walked nervously up the stairs, glanced round in interest at the new surroundings. Everything looked and smelt fresh and new, and although seemingly deserted the corridor had a friendly feel to it. Arriving at the correct room we knocked and entered. The room was small but cosy, with a small kitchen area adjacent to the main study area which contained a large wooden table, a teacher’s desk and a wipe board. The walls were covered with students’ art work and projects, and the whole place had a homely welcoming feel to it.
There was only one teacher, Susan, and her teaching assistant Jenny. Susan seemed quite reserved and I never really got to know her well, but Jenny was quite the opposite, a tall, bright bubbly blonde she instantly made me feel part of the group, introducing me to the other students I would be sharing my time with: a school phobic Janine, a pregnant girl called Cassie and another girl, Rhonda. All smiled in greeting before returning to their various pieces of work.
In the unit everyone tended to work individually on their separate subjects, very much at their own pace, with the guidance of Susan and Jenny when needed. Mum smiled, said goodbye and left, and I slid awkwardly into a seat at the large table, unsure of what I was expected to do now. It had been decided that I would attempt to do three GCSEs a year early at the unit, so that then in the next year I could do another few, and ultimately end up with enough to get by on. This year we’d selected Maths, English literature because of their key value and Child Development as a third as the unit was not equipped to offer a Science GCSE.
The day began with Maths, much to mine and Janine’s (who was also taking the course) disgust. This was the last year that the course included course work, so we set to examining data and creating tally charts for it, collecting information to use in more complicated mathematical fetes later. As we worked with Susan Jenny offered us both a cup of tea, which I gratefully accepted, along with the biscuits that came with it. The laid back atmosphere set my mind at rest, and even when I felt the slight tinge of panic at being in an educational environment, it was just the smallest of flickers that quickly went out.
I left the unit that day feeling happy satisfied. There was a way to complete my education, without feeling as though I had entered hell.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter
“The good things don’t always soften the bad, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”
“Nobody important? Blimey, that’s amazing. Do you know, in nine hundred years of time and space I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important before.”
“If it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”
