Almost 10 years ago I sat
around a tribunal table with my lucky jacket hanging on the back of my
chair. On my lucky jacket it says “Don’t
be afraid of the future”. Sitting next
to me was my barrister; Peter Parker, not Rumpole of the Bailey, as I’d
expected. Peter Parker proved he was a
super hero that day when the tribunal panel agreed there and then that my son
should be able to leave mainstream education and enter an independent special
school specifically for children with autism. It was ruled, in my favour, after
only two hours on a point of law.
I would never have been able to know that
point of law on that day if I’d been on my own. I could have lost my case and my son would have either remained at
mainstream school, where his Head Teacher said they had damaged him or in an inappropriate
peer group, at a unit that had been attached to a failing mainstream school, a
few miles away.
He’s sitting next to me now
slapping out the bass line to Seven Nation Army, It helps him with the
anxieties around the GCSE assessments he’s got coming up. I was told all those years ago that he
probably wouldn’t be able to read or write.
After the tribunal I took
the barrister, the head teacher of my son’s new school and his independent
educational psychologist to the pub. It
was the very least I could do. I had
felt small sat at the tribunal table surrounded by my team, members of the
Local Education Authority and the tribunal panel sat opposite me. There were only three women in the room, one
of which was me and the other two were on my opponents team. I felt even smaller
sat in that pub. I hadn’t realised how
much weight I’d lost until that morning as my one and only smart skirt had
almost slipped off of my hips. I’d gone
down to 8 stone 2 pounds. I’m 5’ 9”. For some reason when I’m stressed my body
decides that food is not its main concern and forgets to remind me to eat.
I sat and I drank a coke. I
really wanted a huge pint of what they were having but I only had a tenner on
me. Then my barrister, Peter Parker,
said he liked what was written on my jacket and told me that he usually did
employment law, this was his first SEN case and that he’d been up all night
writing my sons statement. I knew I’d
got him cheap but he was quick, smart and well, how can I put it, he liked my
jacket, he knew how important it was, what it meant.
It was an old pub steeped in
history and dark wood. I just wanted to
sit and enjoy that moment forever. It
felt like I had just awoken from a really vivid, terrifying nightmare and
realised it wasn’t going to continue, it was over.
I should never have been sat
around that table and that made me angry.
I’ve taken that anger and my lucky jacket with me ever since. I’m not Peter Parker, maybe one day but I’ve
started in my own way, as have many other parents, to try and help those who
face that table but if they can’t afford a Peter Parker what happens then?
No one should be afraid of
the future.
