SP has only 8 more sessions at nursery before he leaves. He’s seemingly unaware that this is the case. Meanwhile I’m the one whose really not coping. Every time I remember this means we’re losing our precious Mrs H my heart breaks. It takes a lot to be considered part of SP’s gang and she’s right at the middle of it. She lifts him up and calms him down. Through trial and error she’s worked out how to persuade him to join in, even if the tactic only works for that session. She accepts him, edges and all, and sees no need to shave his corners. And in 8 sessions’ time she won’t be part of his gang any more.
Instead we’ll be taking a step of uncertainty. His new school aren’t sure they’ll be able to meet his needs long term; the council aren’t sure if they want to help (or at least our application for an ECH plan is sitting in a pile on somebody’s desk); I’m not sure I’ve made the right choice. Anxiety at the next step up is normal. But whereas with my other children the hope that it’ll all work out in the end seemed to be good enough, with SP the fear is that making the wrong choice will impact negatively for a long, long time. It’s a horrible responsibilty, especially as there’s no one to say ‘this is the right way’ and even if they suggest a different way to normal, the places and the resources aren’t there.
SP himself sways between utter excitement at going to big school and utter determination that he’s not going. (Although he lives in the moment with no awareness of time, so as long as he’s excited when he’s at the school we don’t have to particularly worry about his lack of acceptance when he’s not there.)
So, despite SP having recognised issues with transitions, it would appear that he’s not the only one!
Maybe I need his coping strategies.
In which case, can I please have a visual timetable for how the whole move to school is going to work out? One with velcroed pictures I can pull off the board when we’ve crossed a milestone. ‘Say goodbye to Mrs H and nursery’: tick. ‘Have 6 weeks of school denial during the summer holidays’: tick. ‘Agree to wear the school uniform, including the dreaded clip-on tie’: tick. ‘Day 1, make it from 8.30am to 3.05pm without the teacher reaching for a stash of gin’: tick. And so on and so forth until we reach ‘Pass A levels’: tick.
Can I have someone squish me with a giant cushion when I feels like it’s too much? Can they rock me and stroke my hair and reassure me that it will all be fine?
Can I wear noise-cancelling headphones and retreat to a room with mesmerising lights when it all gets too much? Or just curl in a ball with my hands over my ears when I don’t like the situation? Can I scream when things don’t go as I’d like, just to release the tension and make my feelings known?
SP has trouble with transitions because he lacks the theory of mind to see the possibilities. He’s resistant to change because he can’t predict that change as a possibility. He can’t imagine what it will lead to or what demands will be made of him, so he sticks to what he knows.
I have trouble with transitions because I can see all of the possibilities. I can see that everything might be fine, but I can also see that it very well might not be (and can construe the probability that at least in part it won’t be all ok from evidence from others before me). I’m resistant to change because it’s more comforting to stick with what we know. I dislike the lack of certainty that SP’s demands will be met.
For now I’ll stick to another of SP’s tactics, that of ‘First’ and ‘Then’. First I’ll brace myself to let go of Mrs H. It won’t be pretty or dignified. But I’ll have to rip the bond like a sticking plaster. I’ll try to bide the advice of Dr Seuss: ‘Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.’ Easier said than done. Long-term I will, but by the end of term, it’s unlikely. Then I’ll prepare him (and me!) for school. Which will more than likely involve the production of velcroed pictures to help ease the transitions. I’m still not sure how we’re going to get him to wear that clip-on tie though.