Summer poses its own set of challenges. This season’s weather hasn’t been great with few warm weather days. Yes there has been sun but it’s often felt more like late October than high Summer. But the weather hasn’t deterred the crowds. Try to go anywhere around midday and the car parks are mobbed. Hawklad doesn’t do mobbed car parks….
But leave it until the evening and suddenly the car parks are empty. Ok that usually means the venue is shut but not everywhere. Just like Dalby Forest. A few hours earlier this walk would have been rammed with hikers, dog walkers and mountain bikers but now at 6-30pm it’s all change. It’s quiet, we are the only car in the car park. A 2 hour walk and we didn’t see another soul.
Or just like 6-30pm on the North East Coast. A couple of intrepid surfers enjoying warming drinks on the beach. A couple of ball chasing dogs with well wrapped up owners. That’s it. Solitude.
Yes 6-30PM cuts down the places open but it opens up so much space and peace. It works for us. Just don’t forget the Woolly Hats, it is Summer here.
I ended up with way too many missing pieces from the jigsaw which painted the life of my parents before they had our family, before me. I never took the time to ask for those missing pieces when I had the chance…..DEEP SIGH.
But I can sketch some details with the pieces I do have.
Dad loved playing cricket, loved to go and see Yorkshire play. He would go for long bike rides, go fishing, loved to ride on steam trains. He was also a bit of a party animal, putting on his suit and heading to the dance halls. He liked to look after himself, liked to be fit. Apparently he was also a bit of a comedian, very gregarious.
Mum loved to dress up and go dancing with her friends. Way too much dancing for her parents liking. She loved music, especially the likes of Crosby, Martin and her always favourite Sinatra. She also loved the cinema but only to see musicals or romance. She also really wanted to travel, wanted to see Paris and New York. In a word, apparently she was FUN.
Then they had three daughters and two sons.
Dad never talked about it, but looking back I’m convinced he fought depression for years. Boughts of heavy smoking and drinking. Hours sat in his chair, pretending to read the same newspaper page yet eyes fixed on a blank wall. Volcanic eruptions of anger, followed by days of silence. Those eyes, eyes filled with suppressed tears, frustration and anguish, was that why he frequently avoided eye contact. Some days he seemed unable to function, rooted to his bed, did sleep bring some temporary relief. Maybe he opened up at Work or at the Pub, not to his family. At home, one word summed the mood, UNAPPROACHABLE. Maybe DISTANCED is better. One word definitely didn’t fit Dad, HAPPY. I can’t remember him smiling or laughing. He worked, he gardened, he went to the pub.
Mum was more open. She said she struggled. She would apologise sometimes simply saying something like she wasn’t feeling like herself. Yes I can remember Mum laughing and smiling, but I can also remember way too many tears. She often seemed so sad. I remember a doctor visit, mum rooted to a sofa, talk of a nervous breakdown. She soldiered on. She had never touched alcohol but started to drink some sherry to calm her stomach. She went shopping, went to see her parents, went to her part time job, went to school evenings when school needed to see a parent, she looked after the house and US. She never went out socially, never met friends, never seemed to listen to music. She never put on a dress, she never made it to Paris or New York.
Usually a favourite pit stop area for the mad pup but strangely not today.
On the path, a once clean golden retriever was proudly showing off its new caked mud look while it’s owner muttered something about her pride and joy encountering a garden hosepipe real soon….
A garden hosepipe option that isn’t available to our 84 month old puppy due to to some of his very own premeditated, over zealous chewing. Definitely lots of chewing DNA in our pet, way more than in me I guess.
I should ask my sister about that.
A few days back she phoned me to excitedly tell me about her DNA heritage results test. I’ve always thought about checking mine out to see where I kinda came from apart from Yorkshire. Well unless my sister has some dodgy results or if my parents didn’t tell me about some really important stuff, THEN I now have clarity. On this walk I pondered a shocking fact…. I’m not as Yorkshire as I assumed. My DNA appears to be only 50% English. Further my sister has been doing some family history digging as well and it looks like there is a lot of Lancashire in me. On NO Yorkshire’s biggest rivals, WE’VE had wars with them…. If people find out, I might lose my Yorkshire Passport and Rhubard Privileges.
Apparently I’m also 30% Welsh (why can’t I sing then….), 12% Scottish and 8% Scandinavian. Viking DNA is not unexpected as they did invade this part of the world. I might look quite fetching stood in a longboat dressed as a Nordic Warrior. In my dreams 😂😂😂😂😂
That’s a shed load of water heading towards the sea just a few yards further on.
Too many times in Hawklad’s school life, he came across an inflexible school system, setting him up to fail, blocking his path.
Two of many examples…..
He was struggling with French. The way it was taught wasn’t working for him, he was falling behind and getting really anxious. Parrot learning how to spell and read French for weekly tests. I approached the teacher to talk about this and our preference to try something different. A more visual and interactive learning App approach. An approach producing great results in some US schools for dyslexic pupils. We even offered to pay for the software. The response sadly predictable. No learning approach could be used that differed from the standard national programme. Even when I pressed on the fact that it just wasn’t working for Hawklad, it was a firm, he just has to work harder using the set learning script. In the end Hawklad was given just two options. Follow the class programme or drop the language course. So he dropped the subject, even though he really wanted to learn a language……
Computer Studies featured a significant element of learning and practicing coding. Month after month, trying to read stuff of a classroom screen then re type it. Get it slightly wrong and it errors out. A nightmare with dyslexia. Again Hawklad started to fall behind. Again the teacher was approached. This time more understanding but still inflexible. The teacher realised it wasn’t working for Hawklad and talked about in the past being able to try different things or switch out coding out for something else. But now the Teacher wasn’t allowed to do that even when the method isn’t working. He had to stick to the set curriculum. End result, Hawklad dropped the subject at the first opportunity…….
So many more examples but you get the picture. At no stage did school ever ask Hawklad what he wanted to do, what were his dreams, his big hopes, the things he was interested in. At no stage was the learning environment tailored to his needs or wishes. It was always, here is the education you must follow. What makes it worse is that this set education is ultimately dictated not by children, not by educational professionals, not by parents but by vested interests and politicians.
As a result far too many children are overlooked and forced into moulds that just won’t ever work for them. A WALL is built blocking the child from thriving, from enjoying developing, from dreaming big and for going down the path that works for them.
In the UK, in the STATE schooling system, far too often the focus is on the wellbeing of THE SYSTEM rather than on the interests of the individual pupil.
The key is that the system runs efficiently, can cope with limited funding and ultimately produces the UNITS the ECONOMY is expected to need. Not much mention of the needs of the individual child. Not much mention of the system going the extra mile for every child.
Am I being ……
Pupils pushed through one educational route regardless of whether it suits the individual. For many it’s never about how high they can fly, never about big or beautiful dreams, not about asking what the child what they want. Far too often it’s about what the SYSTEM decides the child IS.
We knew this would begin to happen eventually. Almost 10 years back, the first Autism Specialist who worked with Hawklad warned us what would inevitably happen. Initially he would get support from a number of health and education teams. This would last until he became an older teenager and then it would start to change. Services and support would then be withdrawn until basically he was on his own, with his only support system being Family. As the Specialist explained, the system hasn’t got enough resources and is continually being further squeezed. Support needs to be available LIFELONG but in the UK you get to an age when that support is withdrawn. Hawklad will then be expected to fend for himself come what may with only family to turn to. Some describe Adult Autistic Support Provision in the UK as PATCHY, others call it NONEXISTENT.
Almost out of the deep dark wood. Isn’t it sad that even after all these years I can still recite The Gruffalo, word for word. Where did those years go…
One moment I’m reading out The Gruffalo to toddler Hawklad, and in the blink of an eye I’m trying to explain magnetic fields inside solenoids to him. Wow, bring Julia Donaldson back please.
Thinking about it, I look like The Gruffalo now.
Hawklad has done so well, 18 exams down, 2 more to go tomorrow. Then he is out of the deep dark wood, pesky school finished. The poor kid is out on his feet, sadly I bet he isn’t the only Year 11 feeling that way tonight. How is this supposed to be a true reflection of potential, skills, talents, character and personal accomplishment. IT ISN’T, in reality it was never supposed to be. It’s about the system rather than individual child.
Every time that I go to our local waste dump, a sign on the gates makes me smile. I know what they mean but…
If you can’t dump waste at the Waste Dump, then what is the point of it 😂😂😂😂😂
So Hawklad hits the last week of final school exams. 6 in 5 days. Then as Alice Cooper puts it
SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER
SCHOOL’S OUT FOR EVER….
It’s kind of such an unnerving thought. After about 3-30 on Friday, that’s it for Secondary School. After the world changed, so often I thought just in terms of the period covering mainstream schooling. Plans kinda didn’t go past this School. Plans didn’t go past 3-30 on Friday. Everything seemed so far in the future. Where did that TIME go.
So I guess it’s planning time again. Try to give Hawklad the best summer possible. See where the exams results leave Hawklad and then help him get on the next path which he wants to follow. Currently he would love to do college, focus on History. That particular Plan is very dependent on his exam results.
I also need to think about his Muppet Dad as well. Where does Hawklad’s next path leave me… Is it more of the same or new doors. That definitely sounds like a TWO COFFEE problem to sort out. Just need to get Hawklad through this last school week….
I think I hit new BRAIN FUDGED exam heights this afternoon. Just driven back from school and for about 10 seconds I was stood bemused next to the house front door. The locked front door. Why wouldn’t it open. I was repeatedly pressing the car remote door opening key.
D’oh.
Once I had finally opened the pesky front door with its traditional key, I found a letter from a rather large public utility company which had been privatised a few years decades back. Customers were told that this would significantly improve service levels and keep prices down….
We are still waiting for those particular benefits to arrive.
The letter was addressed to Hawklad’s Mum. Over the 6 plus years since the world changed, I have repeatedly tried to get them to change this. Apparently the main database has been changed but other databases not linked to the main one keep popping up. Clearly the privatised company can’t afford to link all its systems. Got to pay those Dividends…..
Well back to the letter. A few years back, seeing my partners name on the address would have wrecked me. Things have changed now. The grief journey moves further down the road. This time I focused on the text next to the address.
We know times are hard, we are here to help. We want to do all we can, so open the envelope to see what we can do for you…
Well for a start you could stop fleecing your customers with ridiculously sky high prices and monumentally poor service levels. You could also stop your Chief Executive getting millions in performance related bonuses.
I dealt with the letter in the appropriate manner. Throw it to the mad Cat and Dog, let them rip it to shreds.
But the key point is that I focused on the contents of the letter rather than on the name on the letter. I never thought I could ever do that but when the time is right, the journey starts to become just a bit less painful.
One of those mighty motorways that cut through the North Yorkshire Moors. This is rush hour….
It’s rush hour with Hawklad’s exams now. Two weeks of mayhem, 12 exams in 10 days. It’s an official slog now. That’s how it’s designed to be. Zero marks for coursework, everything on final exams. Exams squeezed into just a few weeks
Hawklad has officially got to the ‘hit the wall’ stage. He has really tried, tried to catch up on being out of the classroom for over two years. Tried to catch up that time, with let’s say ‘patchy’ support from school, over just a few weeks. Too much cramming, trying to force in so much information. And now, with two weeks of exams to get through, he is zonked out, brain fudged. He is still trying to learn, revise, but it’s not going in anymore.
It feels like running a marathon. At the starting line you stand with high hopes, focusing on running a great time. You set off and it feels ok. Then at some point, it all changes. It starts to hurt. After that it’s just about survival. The mind and body have gone. Any thoughts of a decent time have gone, it’s now about just trying to get to the finish line in one piece.
So one particularly bad day for Hawklad when he was tired, nothing was going in. He felt like he was going backwards. STUFF IT. We went for a drive on the Moors. Exams are supposed to be everything, but life goes on. Exam Rush Hour will never give you views like that.
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 