Well, the summer holidays have come to an end.

The last week wasn’t overly exciting as we all actually caught River’s stomach bug, so it was mainly illness. Summer had some bike training and River and I walked around probably every local road going until he got fed up and would stare at me pleading, “Why won’t you take me home?”

Let’s just say we were all ready for the return to school.

After having only a few hours away from River since July 18th, it was time for a break from our ever-growing intense relationship. His new stim is to say “I love you”, which was incredibly sweet at first, but when you hear it around 50 times a day the novelty does slightly wear off.

Now to the part that you’re really interested in: River’s first look at his new classroom.

Getting Ready

We had the opportunity to go for a stay and play in his new SRP unit, which literally has just finished being built. The builders were still there when we went.

Summer had started the day before, so we were all up, her uniform on, kiss goodbye and off she went with Kike to conquer Year 5.

Just me and little boy.

I bring in the uniform, blue jogging bottoms and your usual white polo shirt.

“NOOOO! NO SCHOOL, NO SCHOOL!”

Predicted.

“You are going to school and today Mummy will go with you.”

Narrowing of eyes, about to protest again but stops. I attempt to put on his clothes and he lies down squirming, making it impossible. I think about battling him and stop myself.

I grab two marshmallows and show them.

Immediately he’s up.

He allows me to dress him and happily takes the squidgy treats. I get myself ready and it’s almost time to go, but there’s still the bit that I had been dreading: the shoes.

I’d bought rainbow trainers that he’d requested but, of course, they were the wrong size and with no time left I panic bought some actual school-looking trainers. It required two more marshmallows and a lot of patience, but I was super proud of both of us that we got socks and shoes on.

He looked super smart and grown up, especially with his new haircut. I was determined he was going to have his hair cut ready for school. He couldn’t see as his fringe was too long and the memory of the nits epidemic still makes me want to shave everyone’s hair off.

This time though, I booked an appointment with his lovely and incredibly patient hairdresser but went to work, leaving Kike to take him.

He messaged afterwards.

“Is it always this hard?”

Yes Kike, yes it is. And he’s massively improved.

TV off and we were on our way. He walked a bit differently at first, clearly getting used to the new weight of the shoes, but by the end of the road he was back to skipping.

As we got closer I spotted a lady looking at us from her car. River was jumping and stimming as we crossed the road and I noticed that she turned her car around, parked and proceeded to get out. A few minutes later she was walking behind us with another little boy who moved suspiciously like River.

“I think we’re going to the same place,” I called.

She smiled and nodded.

His New Classroom

River’s new SRP unit is actually in the place where Summer had her Year 1 classroom. It’s part of the wider school but it’s been cordoned off, with high gates around its own mini playground and locked doors at either end of the corridor so the children are safe.

As I mentioned, the builders have been in all summer and we’d received an email saying they were still waiting for deliveries, so I expected it to be quite sparse and it was.

The walls were bare except for some hessian, there were two tables with a few toys and some more toys on the carpet. The carpet toys were animals and puzzles, which River was never going to go near.

He did like the Paw Patrol toy for a bit. It’s like Buckaroo (for those old enough to remember that): you pile different equipment onto the dog and at a random point it moves and throws everything off.

Most of the children gravitated towards this specific toy.

Of course they did. It’s off the TV!

There’s a small room currently housing a trampoline which will become a movement room, and the doors open out onto the playground with a new little climbing wall and water play, both of which were a big success.

All in all, it was a successful visit. I met the other mums and their children and chatted to the staff, all of whom were friendly and excited about the start of term and the new unit.

I walked around getting a feel for the space and what it might look like in a few weeks or months.

The hour and a half went quite quickly and River announced it was time to go. I don’t think he’s understood at all that he’ll be going back there on Monday for an entire day and then every day after that, but we will deal with that as each day happens.

Something I Wasn’t Expecting

I took him home, gave him his lunch and then went for a lie down.

I felt tired and something else, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was restless for the rest of the afternoon and when Kike came home and I started talking about it, I think I figured it out.

It was a bit of sadness.

I am so grateful that River has this opportunity to attend a specialist unit. He’ll have access to therapists and early intervention that will have such a positive effect on his future. He’ll have a tailored timetable that matches his needs, staff to support him with building his social skills and, most importantly, a safe environment where he can be himself.

But I can be grateful for all of that and also feel sad that I don’t get to take the ‘My First Day of Reception’ photo holding the chalkboard and walk him in with the other mums to a colourful classroom filled with toys. I won’t watch him hang his coat up, put his book bag away and join his friends on the carpet waiting for a game or story.

I know that isn’t River’s reality.

He wouldn’t like an overly stimulating classroom. It took us a year to get him into the routine of hanging up his coat and he still did it a bit begrudgingly. He’s never going to sit on a carpet unless it serves his purpose and especially not with other children. He’s not going to be a shepherd in the Nativity, sitting on the bench and singing the songs.

River is, well, River.

He’ll do things his way and on the timeline designed for him and I’ll be there to support, guide and love him as always. It’s just that small voice that sometimes whispers in my ear: wouldn’t it be nice if he didn’t need all of this?

I know he does.

But sometimes I wish he didn’t.

The Reception I Know

It’s probably linked to my ten-plus years in Early Years classrooms. I still remember setting up my very first Reception classroom and the days I spent designing, laminating and making an exciting home corner.

I once made an enchanted forest complete with a mushroom stool that I sewed and a leaf canopy. It was adorable but actually spectacularly backfired as I’d collected the leaves from the local park, which contained a large number of different insects. They then infested my classroom while the leaves rotted, leaving a very unpleasant smell for the rest of the term.

But I digress.

I remember cutting out tiny spiders with all my children’s names on them that they could find when they entered and put onto a giant web for their self-registration. All the pegs were labelled and the classroom was designed to encourage play and joy in every corner.

There was the excitement and sometimes tears of leaving Mummy and Daddy (and tears from them as well) followed by the soft hum of children exploring and making new friends. It was always my favourite part.

Outside there would be the little huddle of parents at the school gates, consoling each other or high-fiving depending on what kind of summer you’d had, but sharing in that moment that your child had started their school life.

I think that’s the bit I realised I was missing.

A Different First Day

I’ve found SEND parenting can be quite lonely. You can be isolated a lot and you don’t always get to share those parental milestones in quite the same way.

River and I have been literally joined at the hip for the past 50-odd days and that morning wasn’t an exception. He played alone or with me. I briefly introduced myself to the other parents and got their numbers as I’m the class rep.

Of course I am.

But as I looked around, I realised they were all doing the same dance. Hovering and following, not too close but not too far, trying to predict when disaster might strike.

There was a sense of excitement in the unit and relief that our children had a place to go, but also fear of the unknown. Most of us have spent years advocating for our children just to be seen and cared for exactly as they are, hitting plenty of walls along the way.

Maybe there was something comforting in being around other parents doing the same dance as me without any of us really needing to explain it.

So for now, I’ll try to stay positive about Monday morning.

We’ll probably go through the drama of “NO SCHOOL” just like last year. There will almost certainly be marshmallows involved and I suspect the shoes will continue to offend him. We’ll get him dressed, walk down the road and Kike will take him through those gates.

I know there will probably still be a little bit of sadness there and I’m going to allow myself that. I can be incredibly grateful that River has this opportunity and still feel sad about the version of starting school that I’d imagined for him. Both can be true.

But the staff were excited. The other parents were doing exactly the same hovering dance as me. River found things he liked. He was safe. He was happy.

After everything it has taken to get here, he has a place that has quite literally been built for children like him.

It might not look like the first day of Reception I’ve watched hundreds of children have over the years, but it is River’s first day of school.

And, as I’ve learnt by now, River will do it his way.