This morning, Saturday, was an occasion. The special school where I sometimes work with autistic adolescents opened its doors to welcome their parents. We all watched a film together featuring the children experiencing music, excursions and their daily life in the school. There are very few places in schools like this and the families come from a great distance. This means that the children are often fostered in homes nearby and do not see their families as often as they would like. They stay at school overnight during the week.
We all ate, and drank (this is France you know), together after the film, and I told anyone who was prepared to listen what a marvellous school I think it is…and it is.
The parents, like any others, were happy just to talk about their children, their progress and their hopes for the future. Some of the parents had their own problems, both mental and physical.
As I left, I glimpsed a tearful farewell between mother and daughter, both with the same startlingly blue eyes, holding each other so very tightly. The image haunts me still.
I am going downstairs to massage Drummer boy’s head and do my own maternal duty. He takes his first exam for his BAC on Monday and his nerves are as tight as my guitar strings…
3 days ago