Your children are unpredictable

This week my son spoke to his class. This might not seem like a big deal, but it really, I mean really, is a big deal. My son has not spoken to another child his age for a long time. Almost two years.

This year, he started at a new school, and we were finally able to secure some funding (not enough, of course), which meant he could sometimes actually safely attend school. It's rare to hear positive stories about disabled children in schools because there are very few positive stories.

Children do not often get funding. We all know families who have disabled children who cannot qualify for support in school despite them having very high needs. Those who do get funding don't get enough funding. So, those children fall through the cracks. They start to hate school. They get sent home every day if they can even attend. They only do an hour or two a day of schooling if they’re lucky. They burn out. They regress. They cry for hours and so do their parents.

And it impacts not just their whānau but their whole school community. When my son stopped speaking and began to withdraw, his classmates were devastated. This was their friend. And he was disappearing. His teachers and principal tried desperately to secure support for him. They were distraught for him and us too. We stayed home even more; our contribution to our community lessened too.

There were meetings where my husband and I were in tears, of course, but his teachers were too. His distress caused everyone distress because they knew him before and they could see how much he was struggling.

Our bright and happy boy had become anxious and withdrawn. For a few months he spoke only to three people - his dad, his brother and me.

It felt like nothing would ever change. His love of learning was gone. His confidence was decimated. His joy was nowhere to be found.

We did not expect that he'd last even a few hours at his new school despite all of the support set up for him. Despite the countless visits and all of the planning...But - little by little - he started to thrive.

Over months and months, he has moved into the classroom (well, a little corner of the classroom that's his). And he has increased his time at school. This is huge as he started the year outside the classroom.

I put this down to his teachers first and foremost - they're very experienced teachers who have been in teaching for a long time. They’re passionate about inclusivity, and they genuinely believe disabled children deserve to be in school. Secondly, it's down to funding. Even though the funding is not nearly enough to support full-time attendance it has made a huge difference.

Some funding for support in school is how my son was able to start moving into the classroom. Some funding for support is how he began to love learning again. Some funding for support is how he was able to walk through the class without becoming upset, how he was able to stay at school even after a fire drill, how he was able to cope with food smells at school and a visit to the library and cross country (even if he didn't run) and creating art and finally, yes, talking to his class.

His teacher filmed his speech and was delighted to share it with us. I sent it to basically every one of my friends. They were all ecstatic too. They've seen his struggles and decline over the years, and they've been heartbroken too.

Now, they can celebrate his success with us. We have a whole community celebrating with us as we are able to slowly get our lives back.

He faced the whiteboard, not the class, for his speech, and when he was finished, there was enthusiastic applause from his peers. His peers. They were thrilled. He asked if anyone had any questions, and a child said they really enjoyed his speech.

He stated, 'That's not a question'. They explained that it was a compliment.

And this is the final reason for his growth. Your children.

The children in his class met him on the first day by seeing him behind a partition with a sign up asking that they not speak to him. They have quietly, determinedly, gently hoped to change this.

Some children even put having him speak to them as a goal for their term.

They began to wave to him. Just once, so as not to overwhelm him. They left trinkets on his desk that they thought he'd like. They listened when he spoke about his interests as he hid in his corner.

They quietly prepared for when he might need a friend - they would be ready when he was ready.

Their kindness has helped him heal. But it has also helped us heal. It's no one thing - you need all of it - the teachers, the principal, the teacher aides, the funding (more would make a bigger difference) and the kindness. But gosh, the kindness really matters.

When you have a child who is different, it’s terrifying to think of how they’ll be treated in your absence. It’s no surprise really that our son is afraid of other children. He once told me they’re too unpredictable.

And here we could not predict how much their open hearts would change our son’s world. Children don’t develop this empathy out of nowhere; they get it from their parents and caregivers.

In a world that is not kind, modelling kindness for kids matters. Not the empty faux politeness kind of kindness - the real ‘I’ll fight for you because you matter’ kindness. The ‘you deserve to thrive’ kindness. The ‘all we have is each other’ kindness.

If you have talked to your child about disability, about inclusion, about tangible kindness - you have helped my child attend school, and that really matters. Not one child in his year group has made a teasing comment toward him, or laughed at him in a cruel way, or called him names.

I don't doubt that high school (if he can attend) will be very different. But maybe I can be hopeful thanks to your children.

Your kind, understanding, good children.

They're unpredictable, maybe in the best way.

I also want to say that this feels timely given Winston Peters continuing to use slurs against disabled children and adults. The return of the R-Slur (Stuff published it 11 times in one article) directly impacts our children. It's a continuation of the unbelievable cruelty this government enacts against the disabled community. It's little wonder children use it against disabled children when their parents are using it. So: Please enrol to vote and vote against this cruel coalition.

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