Showing posts with label austerity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label austerity. Show all posts

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Value

When you have a child with special needs it’s hard to put a price on the value of teaching assistants.

But according to recent newspaper reports, the Treasury is looking to save money by reducing the number of TAs in classrooms. 

This report in the Sunday Times cites research by Reform, a right-of-centre think tank, which says it has found schools could ‘improve value for money by cutting the number of teaching assistants and increasing class sizes’. 

That’s a sentence that takes hold of your heart in an icy grip, isn’t it? 

I’m also not too happy with the sneering description of teaching assistants as a ‘mum’s army of classroom helpers’. Who do you think this is more insulting to - ‘mums’, or TAs?

The idea that classroom assistants are ‘just’ well-meaning parents bumbling along helping the little ones with their crayoning is condescending, anachronistic and just plain wrong.

My daughter has been helped by teaching assistants throughout her school life, firstly with designated one-to-one hours at mainstream school, and latterly as part of her classroom staffing set-up in her special school satellite class.

Her assistants have been dedicated, patient, enthusiastic, hard-working and skilled. They’ve also been trained to deal with everything a special needs child can throw at them. Sometimes literally.

They don’t do it for the money - believe me, I’ve been a school governor, and I’ve yet to see any teaching assistant earning anywhere near the supposed £17,000 average wage cited in many of the newspaper reports.

They deal with challenging behaviour on a daily basis. They get thumped, kicked, screamed at, and bitten. And they shake it off and go back for more, because they love helping ‘their’ kids. They provide practical, front-line support so that teachers can teach.

It’s becoming harder and harder to gain dedicated support for children with special needs at mainstream schools, and yet at the same time the emphasis on integration is perhaps as great as it has ever been. And now some policy twonks (I'm guessing some of whom benefited from small class sizes at private schools) want to ‘improve value’ by making class sizes bigger and getting rid of TAs.

Maybe someone can reassure me that teaching assistants with responsibility for special needs children will be unaffected by any cuts. 

Can someone do this? Please?

When you have a child with special needs it’s not just hard to put a price on the value of teaching assistants - it’s impossible.


Video is Alvin Cash & The Crawlers - Twine Time


Thursday, 7 June 2012

Knots

When my daughter was a baby and was diagnosed with this odd-sounding syndrome, I worried about everything. Would she ever walk? Talk? Could we control her food intake? Would she be in pain? Would she cope in mainstream school? Would she have friends? What would she be like as a teenager? What health problems would she suffer? What would happen to her as an adult? Would she still live with us? Could we cope? Could she be happy?

And then I decided that worrying about the future was a waste of time and energy. Planning what you need to plan is sensible, but anything else steals the strength you need to deal with the present.

I knew for many years that my daughter’s scoliosis would eventually get to the point where she needed spinal fusion surgery. But after her consultant gave us a  brief outline of what that entailed, I deliberately didn’t find out much more about it. I knew the details would be terrifying; I also knew the op was years away, so why prolong the horror? When the time came to prepare for the surgery, I asked for the gory details, got them, and was glad I’d not had them burrowing into my brain before I needed them there.

We had found a way to untangle the emotions. We'd unpick the end that was in front of us and not worry about the knots further down the line. Unravelling things in small lengths didn't mean the fear and worry went away, but it made it more manageable.

It’s served us well up until now. But lately, there’s been a problem. Cuts to public services, changes to disability benefits, and the seemingly unstoppable march towards a ‘survival of the fittest’ society, means I’m getting worried again about what the long-term future has in store. Will there be any provision for my daughter once she leaves school? In a few years' time, what are we going to do if the deeply flawed, dehumanising ATOS assessment system declares her ‘fit to work’? What will her life be like? How will we make ends meet? Will there be any organisations, government-run facilities or day centres, anything that will offer her fulfilling activities, opportunities, respect, care, and fun

At the moment, that knotted line feels like it’s tied to a heavy weight. If I tug too hard it's going to come crashing down.


Video is Great Lake Swimmers - Pulling On A Line


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