Prison is better than this!!!

Nev was meant to start at the school last week. Instead he was at 'her majesty's pleasure'. He still got a look around - cuffed to the accompanying prison guard. Seemed like the most normal thing in the world to him, as did the electronic tag he wore when he started, almost like a trophy.

It's difficult to see things from another person’s point of view sometimes, especially when that someone is only 13 and already in prison.

Nev was a difficult kid, but he had a 'smooth guy' charm and was excellent at sweet talking the ladies. When you looked at him it was very difficult to believe what was beneath.

I didn't really have much connection with his family, I was just his teacher, but did he ever give me a headache. You really had to be careful that everything was nailed and screwed down, or it might just vanish out of the window! (if you hadn't checked at least 20 times a lesson that he hadn't deliberately left one ajar!)

It was easy to forget Nev had been in prison already (if you could forget for a moment about the 'trophy' tag on his ankle!)   However no-one was prepared for his reaction when his mother decided to turn up at the school.

She was very drunk, and as it turns out, also very 'high'. Nev didn't know whether to cry or shout, stay or run. He chose to run. The staff were understandably concerned, as he could be anywhere, or up to anything. The police were meant to be informed. We asked the other students where he might have gone in the hope that we could find him and stop him.

He had told the others he had heard about a car that was in a garage nearby, deemed to be 'easy to nick'. Staff raced round there to try and talk him round.

After a large heart to heart he was apparently asked why he did this, he was on tag, he had a record already, did he want to go back to prison for goodness sake?! Here was his reasoning:

His mother, he said, was a heroin addict, prostitute and alcoholic. He didn't have a father. Prison was better than real life. At least there he had a roof over his head, his washing done and guaranteed 3 hot meals a day. So yes, he wanted to get caught, he wanted to be arrested and YES he wanted to go back.

What kind of life has he got, I ask myself, when they see a prison as a 'better option'. It makes me very sad, because deep down inside, Nev was a great kid, just looking for someone to take care of him. It's a shame that he saw 'her majesty's pleasure' as the only people who 'cared'.

How many more youngsters, I wonder, are in a similar position to Nev, and how many teachers and schools really have no idea about it at all?

Don't give up

The head teacher came into my tutor group the other day. 'Can I have a word? I have a new student for you; you're good with the naughty ones aren't you? I'm giving you Ben. He starts next week, but I wouldn't worry about him, I'll have him out by Christmas'

And thus started my journey into Special needs. Ben had a marked and moving effect on me. He, single handed, is the reason why I am now a special needs teacher. When I tell his story, even to this day it upsets me.

He was your typical 'naughty boy'. A bit unkempt, extremely thick school file and a long list of 'previous schools'.  Ben's life at home was rather complex. He was the oldest of several siblings who lived with their mother. Social services knew the family well.

It was the small signs that spoke volumes. He would turn up to school with only some of his uniform, sometimes wearing girls socks, often had no lunch, and whenever he was anywhere near the deputy head's office ALL the complimentary biscuits were gone in a flash.

But, he loved his mother dearly and would do ANYTHING for her. In fact I think he did most things for her. He knew far too much for his age, and before very long some of his siblings were no longer allowed to live at home.

School was the least of his worries.  He was an extremely intelligent boy, and sadly Teachers didn't have time for him. All they saw was the answering back, disruptive behaviour and violent outbursts. He was regularly sent out of lessons and this concerned me. I was NOT going to allow the head to determine his future based on a reputation that preceded him.

Ben and I struck up a deal. If he was ever in trouble in school he agreed he would come to me, work and all. This happened extremely regularly indeed.  But, he was coping, amongst the hell that was his life. I fought against exclusion when he broke a fire door; I regularly defended him to the head teacher and rescued him from several more exclusions, becoming his rock, his shoulder to cry on.

We talked at length about all sorts. He would often ask about his rights, talked about his father, and the anger he felt for the fact that he left the family when he was young. He missed his younger brothers, there was only him and his sister at home now, and when social services went round it had been very ugly.

I knew things were still tough though. I heard from the police that his absence one day was because he was in the police cells. All sorts of things spun through my head. But in the end I was deeply saddened to discover that he had been arrested for stealing food.

Some details I feel are even too sad to share, but this was just the tip of the ice berg.

Disaster struck the day I heard the news from the hospital about my long awaited major knee operation. It was on the first day of the autumn term. I feared this was the opportunity the head was looking for. I was distraught. What would Ben do without me? I honestly worried that he would not cope.

We arranged a support Network involving staff he preferred, and I thought I had everything covered. Even though I was only a teacher, I felt I had become his social worker.

I bid him farewell, reassured him he would be ok, and departed for the summer break.

The news reached me shortly after I got out of hospital. On the third day back after the summer break, Ben has been caught trying to start a fire in a classroom. The head permanently expelled him. That goodbye in July had been the last time I would see Ben.

I was inconsolable. I had deserted him. He needed me and I was not there. I felt truly awful, words cannot describe my distress. I tried to find out what had happened to him next. Data protection prevented me from finding out anything more.

A message to Ben if I could talk to him now would be thus:

'I am truly sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me but you must understand that my heart was with you. I hope life has been kind to you. You are never far from my thoughts and I want to thank you for helping me find my own path in special needs teaching, one I wouldn't have found without you'

The man from the fayre - a snapshot into a life.

I received an unexpected phone call. A new student. No file, no background, nothing. Lived with Dad, who seemed willing to co-operate and do the best he could. Jamie seemed like a typical teenager but was into things he shouldn't be. We had him for a few months, that was all.

It turned out Dad wasn't Dad after all. Jamie's parents actually lived in another county, still happily married. Jamie's 'Dad' was the ex-affair his mother had. It is unbelievable to think that he actually tried so hard with Jamie, considering he had no maternal connections. Sadly though, Jamie was getting into trouble with the police too much.  I discovered this revealed a pattern. Jamie was then sent away. 'Dad' didn't need the stress any more. Unfortunately though, neither did mum. So Jamie was 'pass the human parcel'. I only knew him a few short weeks but this was enough to make me extremely angry. How dare parents treat young people, THEIR CHILDREN in this way? How on earth must Jamie feel knowing that even his parents, even his mums ex didn't want him! No wonder he was angry at society, angry at everyone. I wondered if Jamie actually got an education at all, or was he simply ‘lost in the system’ in between two counties.

Jamie happened to pass by the school some 4 or 5 years later. He stopped at the doors to talk to some students, recognised me and said 'hello I'm Jamie, I bet you don't remember me do you?' None of the staff did, his visit had been too brief.

To his surprise I did. I remembered. I remember you all, you are all special to me no matter who you were.