We’re a little over half way through the school year, yet it only seems like yesterday when I walked down an unfamiliar corridor saying to myself, ‘I’m not going to cry’. I’d just dropped Poppet off for the first of two orientation sessions, run by her new school.
‘Orientation’ was just one way we helped prepare Poppet for the move into secondary school. The transition was intense, for children with Down syndrome typically prefer regular routines and often struggle with change, and Poppet is no exception. I learned when Poppet was very young that, in order for her to be comfortable with change, I needed to spend a great deal of time preparing her in the lead up, explaining what she could expect, trying to create a visual image for her.
When confronted with a new environment or experience, Poppet would either not co-operate or simply resist. This was often difficult to manage, especially when there were other children involved, at a party for example, or if there was time pressure involved, such as catching a flight. Describing for her what lay ahead was sometimes difficult to achieve, for there were occasions when I wouldn’t even know what to expect. When I got it wrong, I’d have to recover quickly to help her adjust. (Embracing change is still an issue for Poppet, although it’s not as severe now.)
The changes for Poppet moving from a primary school setting to a secondary school setting were enormous. The differences included: going from primary school into Year 8, (missing Year 7), a new school and uniform; new teaching staff; being the younger of the student population; catching a bus; new rules and not having an integration aide. The greatest change perhaps was being amidst a school population of children, all of whom have an intellectual disability, compared to being in a mainstream environment; instead of being an exception, she became part of the norm.
Although the orientation sessions were somewhat useful in preparing Poppet for the change, they could have been more engaging. Poppet is a tactile person and a visual learner, so new information is best delivered with pictures, supplemented if possible, with tangible items. I attempted to bridge the gap, making the information more relevant, more accessible to her.
I wanted to create a ‘day in the life at secondary school’ storybook, so towards the end of the 2014 school year, we spent a few hours walking around her new school. We met with and took photos of important people, such as the office staff, the women in the canteen and the librarian; we visited and took photos of places Poppet would need to know, such as the toilets and her classroom, and also of the lockers, buses and bus stops.
Throughout the long summer holidays, we referred to that book and talked about what the new school would be like, concentrating on what she was looking forward to and working through any concerns she had. We shopped together for all her stationary items and she practiced using a padlock and key (for her locker). Poppet had her new uniform too and she wore several times during the holidays, breaking it in.
Fortunately, by the time school started, Poppet was excited and ready to go. I admired how well Poppet adjusted to her new routine. It really was an enormous change for her, yet she remained happy throughout. However, if you’d have asked me back in those early months how Poppet was going at school, I would have told you a completely different story to the one I describe now. For all our preparation, I hadn’t counted on the fact that it was her teacher’s first year of teaching.
Her teacher was determined to ‘make’ the children learn and went about her work in a serious and resolute manner. Even though I’d given her a book about students with Down syndrome, which she so admirably read, the teacher and Poppet were at odds. Poppet didn’t conform and her teacher was frustrated and I suspect, a little out of her depth. We received notes in Poppet’s school diary saying, “You must instruct Poppet to obey me,” or “Poppet refused to finish her science work…” I started to dread picking Poppet up from school for invariably, she would be marched up the corridor by her teacher, then have to wait while I received the long list of complaints for that day.
This was not the happy picture for which I’d hoped for my daughter. Her teacher didn’t seem as nurturing as Poppet’s teachers were in the past and didn’t seem to get to know her students personally. I wrote about this in an earlier post, ‘We’ve Been Spoilt’ (http://downswithups.com/weve-been-spoilt/ ). My partner and I were careful not to influence Poppet’s opinion of her teacher; we simply started to count the months until the end of the year, knowing Poppet would have a new teacher the following year.
Some weeks into the first term, I met with the principal from Poppet’s primary school. She was very interested to hear about Poppet’s experiences and when I described the unhappiness we were experiencing, she wisely advised me that Poppet’s personality and character would eventually shine through. I was immensely relieved to hear this, for this teaching professional has years of experience, seven of which were with my daughter, including all the happy times and challenges.
Although I was worried about being perceived as a troublemaker, I ended up speaking with the Year Co-ordinator and Deputy Principal about my concerns. I realised I’d taken the right step, when they listened to my grievances with genuine concern. We agreed to an action plan that would see the school investigating the issues and taking steps to rectify issues, where necessary.
Several months later, it seems those steps together with time, have helped Poppet’s teacher; she now has her head around Poppet and sees her not as the ‘naughty’ girl she once did. She now understands Poppet’s behaviours and the way Poppet approaches her work. They have become quite good pals it seems, and now when I pick up Poppet, her teacher goes to great lengths to tell me the good things Poppet has achieved that day. Poppet’s nature certainly did shine through. When I’m asked these days, “How’s Poppet doing at school?” I can honestly say, “Well, she comes home happy. That’s all I can ask for. Right?”