Hannah's Story |
| SCHOOL: (noun and verb) 1. n. an institution for educating or giving
instructions esp. Brit. for children under 19 years. 2. v. tr. send
to school; provide for the education of.
By Hannah Sweet It’s the one thing you know you are going to do throughout your life: go to school and learn. From the age of two you go to playgroup where you are prepared for ‘Big School!’ At that age school is probably the most exciting thing you can think of. It conjures images of independence, academia and the world of the grown-ups! What you don’t realise is that, although you have your path in life mapped out: primary school, then on to secondary school, college and so on, it could all change. It’s the day, the big day! I am going to school! I get my uniform on: a blue and white checked dress and a sky blue jumper proudly displaying the school’s logo. For days beforehand, I had been gazing at the uniform on a hanger in the bedroom knowing that soon I would be able to wear it with pride. I would be part of the school and people would know. Soon, the day arrived. I put my jumper on proudly and went downstairs to collect my own snack bag (with my name on it) and lunchbox. I put my new blue school shoes on, which were so gleaming I could see my face in them, and my coat. Holding my mums’ hand, I began my journey to school. As we approached the school, I could see all the big kids running around without a care in the world. We walked up the big, long hill to the building. It seemed like ages and, with each step, the school got bigger as did my curiosity to find out what was inside. I saw friends from playgroup with their mums. We all went to the playground and waited. The playground had two levels: one for the big kids and one for the smaller. I didn’t realise it then but the playground was to become one of my favourite places at school. I remember many, many happy times there and on the field. We would play kiss chase, thrilling with the combined adrenalin of fear and excitement as we fled from our pursuers. This exciting worry was the only thing we had to fear in our young lives. The playground was a place where you could have fun and play! Then the whistle went. Our teacher came out and guided us into the school. The teacher was young and smiled like a kind babysitter or favourite auntie. Once she was satisfied that I was in safe hands, Mum kissed me, said, “Goodbye,” then reluctantly departed. Most of the other mums did the same but I will always remember one child who wasn’t ready to have this adventure and leave her mum. She cried and hung on to her with all her might. I smiled at her comfortingly, pleased that I had not lost my composure. All tears were forgotten when the teacher showed us where to put our snack bags: it was a red box in the corner of the classroom especially for snack breaks. Then we were taken into the cloakroom where we each had a peg with our name on it. My teacher (like all the primary staff) was kind and happy. The clothes she wore were bright, just like the big pictures on the walls and shone like her beaming face. We got to choose where we sat: I sat with my friends. We were friends throughout primary school and did everything together. We were ‘joined at the hip’ one could say! Later that morning, we went to our first school assembly. We were led ceremoniously into the main hall, the brightest, airiest room I’d ever been in. Big pictures were mounted on the wall. Three hundred children sat in the hall in class groups, waiting for the Head teacher. When she came into the hall, she introduced herself and all the other teachers. She was big, like a teddy, with curly hair. Her clothes were bright and so was her smile. After assembly, we went back to the classrooms and collected our coats and snack bags from the special box and ran into the open air and freedom of our first play time. We felt safe in the playground. A teacher was always there and laughter and shouts rang out like bells. When the teacher blew the whistle, we all gathered like rats to the Pied Piper round the steps on which she stood then she called out our class numbers to be taken back to the classroom. Back in the classroom we would do colouring. As we moved up the classes, the tasks became more complex. Colouring became Art lessons; collecting different flowers became the study of Geography and playing with brightly coloured cubes became Mathematics. Then, at lunchtime, the Reception class went first into the hall clutching lunchboxes to our chests as we surveyed the great long tables that were laid out before us. The dinner ladies helped us to open our boxes, packets of crisps and so on, just like our mothers would. (As we got older, we ate with all the other kids in the hall. It got noisier but only with happy sounds. The dinner ladies were still there to watch over us but we no longer needed their help.) After lunch, we had a play and started to explore the playground and, in the summer, the fields. At first, we would find new places like where’s best to hide in the long grass and where the best tree is. Over time, these places became like a home from home. There was always one tree with the shape of a door in it. We believed that a hedgehog lived in it. We would never see it but we left food - grass and berries - for it. This tree became our tree: the one we sat by every summer. In the winter we were only allowed to play on the fields if it snowed. There we would have great big snowball fights and build snowmen that would stand-alone for days until they finally turned into grey, icy lumps weeks later. The whistle would blow. We would wait for our class number to be called out and we would go into the classroom. The two reception classes would be joined up for Story time and, after the story; we would be asked a question. If we got it right, we would get a special sweet from a tin shaped just like a bus. As we got older, Story time became ‘reading time’ or ‘English’ and merit points were awarded instead of sweets. Having collected a number of merits, a certificate was presented in assembly. So many certificates would earn a merit badge, the owner of which would wear with pride for a week. Some days we did P.E. (physical education) in the main hall. Wall bars, which reached the ceilings, were pulled out and ropes that had been drawn back like long draping vines were let free. The red gym mats would be brought out and benches put in place. I soon learnt to climb to the top of the wall bars and ropes. On Fridays, in the reception class, we got to take home a teddy bear for the weekend. On Monday, we had to write a dairy about the teddy’s weekend. At 3.30 the teacher led us out to the entrance, where our parents would meet us. The older kids got the go out of a different door. Mum was waiting for me so I went up to her. “Did you like your first day?” mum asked. In the last year of primary we were prepared for secondary school. We were told how it was much stricter and the work would be harder. I suppose I was excited about going. I knew which tutor group I was to be placed in and with whom; not any of my good friends because most of them were in the year below. On my first day at Secondary School, I got my new uniform on. It wasn’t as comforting as my primary one and it was black! Black blazer, black trousers and black shoes. I had to wear a tie, which I thought was a bit silly. Mum showed me how to tie it and then took a picture of me looking awkward and uncomfortable. I couldn’t walk down to the school and so I had to catch the bus. The stop for our bus was at the end of the road. Mum walked down with me and we waited. All the older kids were there which was a bit scary and there was only myself and one other person from Primary School. When the bus came, mum said, “goodbye,” and I got on. We showed our bus tickets to the driver, who smiled a knowing smile. On the bus there was a rule: year sevens sat at the front, year eights behind, then year nines upwards could sit upstairs or at the back of the bus. We went round all the other stops. At each stop more people came on and the noise got louder. When we got to the school we got off the bus and walked through
the playground not knowing what to do. No sounds of joy and laughter
rang out from the playground, only mutters and long hard stares.
The year sevens had their own small playground though I don’t
see why they called it that as it was dull and grey and no-one played. The teacher stood at the door to welcome us in. She had a nice smile but her clothes were dull and plain. The classroom was, yet again, grey. It didn’t have any bright pictures on the walls or any special box in which to put your bag. The teacher introduced herself and told us our tutor number. Then she described what happens in secondary school including how we were to get from class to class and that we had a small blue folder in which we had our timetable, school rules and so on. There was no regular assembly. Then the bell went. We all looked at our timetables, trying to work out which lesson to go to next. We walked through the dark, low ceilinged corridors to the next room, passing older kids who completely ignored us. Break time was much the same. We just stood and talked in our special playground. It was just concrete with benches. It was raised a bit from all the other playgrounds and it felt like we were in a pen, not allowed out until the bell went. At each class the teachers introduced him or herself and described what we would be doing. Some classrooms had pictures on the walls but not fun bight ones, just the students’ work. For the next week we learnt the routines and our way around the school. I didn’t get lost and I was doing well in classes. The bus journey was all right if a bit too noisy, but I would stare longingly out of the window, watching all the children dressed in their bright, blue uniforms and clutching their named snack bags trotting happily off to that place I had loved.
I jumped off the bus and ran home. Mum took pity on me and let me stay there. But the next day exactly the same thing happened again. This happened for a few days until Mum realised something was up. She started to take me into school by car. But then I started not wanting to go into the classroom at all. The only place I would go was into the library, probably the brightest, friendliest place in the school. I became increasingly withdrawn; my shoulders slouched over and I didn’t make eye contact with anyone. This went on for a whole year. Some days were better than others; sometimes I would go in for days in a row. I didn’t have my friends around me because they were in different classes and the friends I had made turned on me and started calling me names. At the end of year seven I had probably missed around half a year. No one knew what to do. I tried counselling but it didn’t help and we tried to take things one step at a time. Nothing worked. I didn’t want to go to school but I didn’t know why. The summer holidays were not fun as the stress of going back to school the next year got me down. At the start of year eight, Mum got a teacher to come round and try to take me into school, but I locked myself in the bathroom! That was when Mum and Dad decided that I didn’t have to go if I didn’t want to. They started to look into other things and this is when a friend told them of home education. So they started to look into it and decided that was the thing to do, as I didn’t want to go to that school or any other. Here I am now. I’ve been taught at home for four years. I’m much happier and although I still find it hard round large groups of people my own age I am improving. The first year was hard as I didn’t want to leave the house and if we did I wouldn’t let Mum or Dad leave me with any one, not even friends or family. But my confidence built up again and in most situations I am OK. I have been studying for five GCSEs, one of which I have already passed: Art, in which I got an A. The other subjects I am studying for are Maths, Biology, History and English. You could say that if I was at school I would be doing up to nine GCSEs, but I don’t need that many and that much stress. I’ve had ups and downs but I am happy and know I will have a lot of chances of doing different things than if I went to school. The next big step for me is college where I hope to study Childcare, Art and Dance. Let’s just hope everything goes to plan. Hannah Sweet I am at college now having achieved all my GCSEs, English (B),
Maths (C), Biology (C) and History (D). I am studying the BTEC National
Diploma in Early Years and A-Level Textiles. Hannah Sweet |
