As we begin our final week of the school year I came across this poem I wrote and I was reminded how hard we fought, and how very lucky we are, that my girl will be starting a school tailored for her needs in September.
They try to make her normal,
They try to make her fit in,
They try to make her like everyone else,
But she’s happy in her own skin.
They tell her to stop flapping,
They tell her sit still in the chair,
They shout stop tapping the table,
But she is blissfully unaware.
They talk in different languages,
They use words she doesn’t understand,
They expect her to know what to do,
But she doesn’t know what they have planned.
They put her in a crowded room,
They turn on all the lights,
They say sit down and concentrate,
But she’s doing everything right.
They say that she can do the work,
They say she is happy there,
They don’t see the anxiety that I see,
But her feelings she cannot share.
I say that she isn’t happy at school,
I say that the work is too hard,
I say it is a sensory nightmare for her,
I say school has left her scarred.
I see the behaviours it causes,
I see the meltdowns unfold,
I see the pain and heartache it brings,
But some people will never be told.