When I taught Year 5, I had a student known as a troublemaker: difficult to teach, and unable to get along with others. Within a few days he was in detention with me at break due to an outburst in a lesson.
I asked him why he was in detention, and he reluctantly (and bravely) described how frustrated he was. He wanted to learn but struggled to focus with people sitting next to him. In addition, he described difficulties that were consistent with what I knew about autism. He was undiagnosed, which was more common then than it is today.
Breaking the ‘difficult student’ cycle
I made a deal with him. I’d find a way for him to avoid distractions, but he needed to signal to me about problems before they built up to him lashing out. We made plans and adjusted when they didn’t work.
One thing I asked was for a list of names of people he could work with on tasks. He gave two. With their permission, I made sure they sat behind him so he didn’t feel isolated from his peers. I contacted the parents to ensure they were included, and they were very supportive.
I assigned homework tasks which were individualised and targeted at his weak areas. I worked with the head teacher to make small adjustments to the classroom, and made sure other teachers were aware so we were all working from the same page. He gained confidence and eventually became my best student. At the end of the year he even had the best exam results of the entire year group. Feeling that he had support was a game changer, and he went from struggling to thriving.
How support pushed me through my own barriers
I had experienced this shift myself years before. I struggled at school, but my difficulties were hidden. I couldn’t answer questions quickly, struggled with sensory overload, had no time management skills, and couldn’t tie my shoes or write legibly until I was in Year 3.
Before then, many teachers dismissed my struggles and assumed that I wasn’t trying hard enough … that my failings were choices. Nothing was further from the truth: I was trying as hard as I could to overcome my disability. This reinforced the increasing feeling that I was a failure and would never be good enough.
A volunteer ‘grandma’
It was my Year 4 teacher who changed things. She listened to me when I explained my struggles and arranged for a ‘grandma’ (a volunteer from our local village) to sit with me and help me find a way to improve. My parents were involved in decisions every step of the way to ensure the support wasn’t just at school.
By the end of the year, my writing had become just about readable, and it was evident that I could do more than had originally appeared. I was moved to Year 5 for maths and English lessons with some other students and returned to Year 4 for the rest. These teachers challenged me but also supported me through those challenges. By the time I was in sixth form almost half of the top-set maths class were from that same small class from that low-income village. That school worked wonders.
This didn’t happen by chance. The school had enough funding and resources that such support was routine by the time it helped me.
Ignoring needs doesn’t make them go away
Too often children who feel like failures never get the opportunity for someone to prove them wrong. Teachers often don’t have the resources or time to put this support into place. I spent ten years teaching, trying to help others in the way I was helped. Too often I was told to stop in favour of gathering evidence for Ofsted or practising for standardised tests.
When finding a school for my own children, I was told by one SEND lead that they would offer no extra support and that they would just have to “get on with it”. Ignoring someone’s difficulties, however, is not the same thing as support. It leaves children isolated and sometimes they sink. We didn’t choose that school.
The way forward
There are many amazing schools out there, but they are less common than they should be. Education should be about giving children places to learn, be creative, challenge themselves, and grow. The best schools teach children to push against their boundaries and think deeply.
The current education system is focused too much on memorising facts and reciting them quickly. Children don’t thrive because they’re pushed harder. They thrive because someone takes the time to understand them.
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