Going through the processes for rehabilitating a child to a new school under exclusion circumstances was a bit like (for me) being on a new planet that orbits Planet Normal.
The legal process following an exclusion (specific to children under the age of 16) is set down by the “Education (Stand-down, Suspension, Exclusion and Expulsion) Rules 1999. The Rules are set out in accordance with Sections 13-18 of the Education Act (1989).
1. The school advises the Ministry of Education (MoE) about the BoT decision.
2. A MoE official is charged with finding another school for the child.
3. You are informed of a school/s that is willing to accept the child.
4. There’s a meeting with the receiving school and enrolment goes ahead.
5. Child starts new school, with a clean slate and goes on to become a model student, achieves to his or her full potential, engages in numerous opportunities offered by the school and wider community, has fun, makes new friends, and leaves school with a clear vision of the pathways ahead for living a life on purpose, with fulfillment and success. The whole sordid incident of getting kicked out of school is left behind. (sic)*
The MoE explained that in looking for a school, the parents’ preferences would be taken into account but that it was ultimately the decision of the MoE to find a school. On meeting a Principal, it would be an interview to see if the school wanted the student, and not the student/parent seeking information about the school: “quite the contrary in fact”. According to the MoE, the circumstances were such that parents had few rights, if any, to choose a school.
Hearing this, my planet shot out of orbit from the gravitational force that was the safety of Planet Normal, as I was in a new realm of limited options. So if parents can not make contact with any school, not even to get the information needed to inform a preference for one school over another how do they find out: does it offer the same subject options? pastoral care? social and sporting options? what was the culture of the school? single sex or co-ed? Doing nothing isn’t my forté, so I found a loophole in this (seemingly hostile) directive: I would contact schools outside town, including boarding schools, and explore those options.
Here’s where I learned a lesson in humility and futility. Calling six boarding schools around the country, I got a shot of:
- Cold hard reality: being turned down without getting much past the introductory comments (I’m not used to this happening).
- Shame: in having to say, “my son was excluded for smoking drugs during school time.” Talk about banging my head against the same wall over and over again…
- Inner strength: staying on purpose when putting the situation out in the open, or ‘airing the dirty laundry’, with the goal of finding some school that might be a fit for him.
- A disingenuous and calculated stealth I didn’t know I possessed: in trying to elicit as much information about the school’s ethics and values, enrolment criteria and availability of places before having to disclose why I was wanting to move my child.
- Confirmation: that this stupid action of my son’s will close doors all around him in the short, and possibly medium term.
- Humiliation: hearing the sometimes condescending tone of the gatekeepers at some schools, which rubbed the raw wounds of my broken parenting aspirations.
I scribbled on my notepad in bold letters, “What would YOU say to the mother of a drug excluded kid?” and there’s a lot of bold rings around the question. It was a rhetorical question and a reminder to put myself in the shoes of those I was contacting.
Despite reaching out to map the way forward, there’s a lonely place that I’ve wandered through and spent some time in lately. And in that lonely place, there’s a lot of learning to bring back to planet normal.
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