Dear teachers,

Thank you so much for all the effort you put in every day to support my child, his classmates, and all the parents and caregivers. Thank you for all the amazing work you do to:

• build healthy, trusting relationships

• prepare and facilitate activities

• safeguard and advocate for the children in your care

• navigate playground and bureaucratic politics

• balance the needs of individuals and keep everyone updated

• meet the (sometimes conflicting) requirements of policymakers

• let kids simply play

For all of this, and more, you have my gratitude and respect. I know your job is not easy and keeping everyone happy (or even content) is an impossible task. With everything you do, mistakes are going to happen. As educators, I am certain you embrace mistakes; after all, they are opportunities to gain insight and do things better in the future.

The cookies are ready!

As you know, the process of learning is a dance; it requires curiosity, exploration, desire, and READINESS. Kids are wired to learn; they are eager to understand the world around them, and they constantly absorb new knowledge and concepts.

My son, El, wants to learn. He loves learning.

Like all kids, El is better at some things than others. He is not neurotypical so he learns about, and connects with, the world differently to his peers. Academically, he is able to learn at a rate far beyond his years. Socially and emotionally, he is on a different page; he struggles with anxiety and he needs support. By definition of his age and development, he is dependent. He is also (sometimes frustratingly) independent.

Oops! I have no pictures of the cookie-making event, but last week my son cooked his own lunch.

A few weeks ago, he wanted to bake cookies all by himself. I gave him the recipe, he found the ingredients, weighed them out, and combined them. When he couldn’t complete a task alone, he asked for help. It took him over 2 hours and, I admit, it was sometimes hard to watch. But, he owned 85% of that baking experience and helped to clean up afterward. He was so proud of his accomplishment and loved watching me and his dad eat the cookies.

I use this anecdote to highlight how competent and independent my son can be when he feels safe and secure.

On the whole, my son is a happy, enthusiastic child who loves loved pre-school.

But, everything changed after Christmas break.

Time to prepare for school?

I am well aware that you go out of your way to learn about El’s needs. You consistently provide assistance where necessary and, more importantly, you allow him to soar when he can.

At the start of his first term, El was assigned an adult support who built a trusting relationship with him. El thrived. Nonetheless, his anxiety remained a struggle for him and he relied heavily on his adult support, particularly during transitions and group activities. So, it came as a surprise when we returned after Christmas break (with a very excited little boy) and were informed that his aide was being replaced.

You explained that during the holiday period, the staff had attended a course that recommended minimizing dependency on adult support to better prepare children for school. It was concluded that, since El wouldn’t be able to take his aide with him, it would be better to provide an environment where he could build relationships with multiple adults.

Although I did not doubt that my son would benefit from developing multiple trusting relationships, I had some reservations. However, it was 8:30 on a Monday morning and there was little time to consider what this change might mean (especially since it had already been put in place), so I accepted this development without question.

Remove water and earth crumbles

[bctt tweet=”Of course, dependency is not lessened by removing a trusted adult, just as thirst is not quenched by taking away water. #letkidsbekids #eyfs” username=”@bee_kids”]

The first couple of days went surprisingly well but when El saw his previous adult support, in another classroom, he was devastated. Intense emotions flooded his whole being. He was unable to articulate what he was feeling (and why). Lost, confused, and abandoned; his safety net had been whisked away, seemingly without reason. I imagined him wondering: “Is it my fault?” “Did I do something wrong?” “Doesn’t she like me anymore?” “What if the other teachers change too?”

Anxiety spiked. He grieved her. Night terrors, nightmares, emotional meltdowns and shutdowns increased. El began refusing to attend school; he was angry, tired and sad. He became more, not less, dependent.

This bright, loving little boy was broken-hearted. Every step forward he had taken vanished as the ground beneath him crumbled and fell away.

To support an anxious child, be in the moment

There is a common (habitual) philosophy that adults should prepare children for the future. On the face of it, this theory appears logical. Of course, there are times we need to intentionally teach a particular skill or concept, but if “teaching” someone something results in undue stress then nobody is learning anything. Timing is key, and observing the child for signs of readiness is essential to teaching any skill. Above all, when supporting an anxious child, we must consider how (unexpected) changes in their environment or routine may affect them.

For my son, school is more than half a year away. Developmentally, a lot can happen in that time. A neurodiverse child may learn things out-of-order or at a different pace, but they are still learning and developing. We cannot know what support will be needed down the road; we will happily cross that bridge when we come to it.

Neurotypical or not, the only thing a child needs help and support with is TODAY; not next month and certainly not next September. Essentially, like all children, El needs to build an emotional and social toolkit that works for him and it is our job to provide those tools and model how to use them effectively.

So, thank you.

You were not wrong to encourage El to be more independent in the classroom, but the timing and implementation of the changes caused such anxiety that the strategy backfired.

Supporting children, while balancing budgets and the demands of governors and external agencies, can be a tightrope. I get it. Nonetheless, we must trust the children in our care. Children communicate exactly what they need through their behavior. My son’s dependency on his adult support was borne out of anxiety; he genuinely needed her. When she was gone, he was a kite without a tether.

After realizing that my son was not adjusting, I communicated my concerns to you. As usual, you were incredible. Together we explored emotional support strategies that could be applied at home and school. Significantly, after our conversation, you spent time playing alongside El and apologized for removing his adult support. Once he knew for certain his support hadn’t left voluntarily, his whole demeanor changed.

My son was relaxed and happy again.

Human beings are adept at justifying errors, allowing them to slip under the radar to be repeated time and time again. Indeed, we rationalize and legitimize mistakes by focussing on policy, budgets, tradition, and research rather than the issue at hand and our role within it.

But you, wonderful teachers, are different. You listened and took action. Thank you.

The future will come and my son will be fine

Like all children, El will face challenges when he enters school. Some of these are unavoidable due to the nature of mainstream education, or due to his atypical learning profile. Together, we will overcome any challenges, possibly with a lot of work and a few tears along the way.

Determining how to provide optimal support to individual children can be a minefield. Fortunately, educators, parents, and caregivers are uniquely placed to see beyond all the jargon and conflicting pedagogies; we can simply follow the child.

So, wonderful teachers, I ask you to continue following my child. You do not need to prepare El for the future. The future will come anyway. Our children will grow anyway; they will learn exactly what they need to learn when the time is right.

In other words, the pressure is off. One day, my son will be ready for school; maybe in September, or maybe not. Either way, he is awesome and I know that, with your support, he will be just fine.

With warmth and gratitude,

A parent.