by Anna Kennedy
I was livid and felt Sean had been really badly let down by some people in the way they treated him. Some of the horrible things said against him caused unbelievable stress to us all as a family and it’s something I would never, ever want to live through again. Matters became so unbearable I truly began to feel I was beginning to lose my faith in people and, although I’d never had a panic attack before, within two months I had two: awful tight feelings across my chest and a frightening inability to breathe.
The pressure was immense and I even began to doubt myself. I lost an awful lot of faith in some people as our family life became almost intolerable. Coral, however, was a mountain of moral support and backed Sean and me to the hilt. How I wished I had the money to buy the other shareholders out to put an end to all this hostility.
Then, in June 2007, the waters were further muddied when a third provider also expressed an interest in buying us out – it was as if we had a for sale sign at the front of the school. This further added to my stress. I was finding the whole situation particularly hard to cope with and was frequently feeling sick to my stomach.
The staff were also becoming unsettled by rumours and counter-rumours floating around the school. Something needed to be done quickly to put minds at rest. After a meeting among the board of directors to try to thrash out our differences, a meeting with the staff was arranged at which I explained to them the need for our company to acquire more capital if we were to purchase The Lawns and be able to refurbish and staff it to an adequate level. Quite simply, we had outgrown our existing facilities.
I told the staff why we needed to attract outside investment towards this goal. We had looked at our businesses carefully and asked ourselves, Where are we now? Where do we want to go? How are we going to get there? We had looked at employing the skills of a consultant or possibly employing an experienced non-executive director who could provide regular impartial assessments of what we had been doing. Another option had been to use a management consultant to help us identify how best we could strengthen or change our management structure.
I then informed the staff of the two educational and care-service providers actively expressing an interest in amalgamating with our businesses. Putting aside my own misgivings, I told the staff that these options would not only allow for future development but would also help create cross training between the schools, improve resources, increase and improve our reputation, improve on morale, improve on staff development and opportunities for advancement and, finally, extend the board of directors.
We had already spoken to key staff working for the service providers who had expressed an interest in amalgamating with us and found them to be most helpful and with a good understanding of the autistic-spectrum disorder.
After my speech I was heartened by the support of the staff. Several of them came up to me and gave me a hug, and told me they realised how difficult all that had been happening must have been for us as a family. I became quite emotional and told them of my concerns for children like Angelo, who were in the intensive life-skills and communication classes. After the age of 19, there was nothing in the borough for them and that’s why I felt we needed to press on and set up a life-skills centre that would complement the work done at West Middlesex College.
I know that, on reaching 19, Angelo will not be able to live at home because his needs are so complex. He, and others like him, will need to become more independent, but suitable specialist residential homes are non-existent in the borough. In fact, they are miles away. We needed to choose the most suitable service provider that would allow us to make this happen more quickly.
Of course, rumours of unrest were bound to filter down to the parents, who became most concerned at how things might develop. Some were very upset and didn’t want us to sell out to anybody. Basically, they just wanted things to carry on as they were. In their eyes, if something isn’t broken, why fix it? One mother even approached me in the playground and told me that I should not believe any rumours that she had started up a parent action group. I told her it was all news to me, yet, in the light of this, I realised we needed to call a further meeting to reassure the parents that Hillingdon Manor did indeed have a future.
And so it was that the parents gathered to hear about the recent developments. I explained how the meeting was intended to allay their fears and to assure them of everyone’s desire to expand the services on offer – not as some had feared, to break up all that had been accomplished.
We had every intention of attracting and retaining quality staff to ensure quality and good practice; we intended to purchase The Lawns, and Portakabins would be leased and placed on the school’s site to enhance the provision of intensive-communication life skills.
That said, I outlined the difficulties facing small specialist schools such as Hillingdon Manor. We had little opportunity to make extra money outside of that generated by fees. Maintenance and expansion plans would be limited without the extra finances an amalgamation would generate. I tried to reassure the parents that, whichever the choice of service provider partnership, Hillingdon Manor did have a good future.
Like me, parents liked the homely atmosphere, the good staff–pupil ratio and the feeling that the children are known individually to staff and are valued; that our staff were loyal and dedicated, always willing to go the extra mile, and that they enjoyed teaching our children and that this individualism was our unique selling point. The staff are passionate about the special education our pupils need and feel them to be part of an extended family. Whatever happened, this would not change. Then I promised all present that we would advise them of any developments just as soon as practicable.
Afterwards, some parents came to see me and told me how pleased they were that I was digging my heels in and encouraged me to continue to do so. I was so reassured when they told me things would never be the same if I were to leave. They wanted to continue to be able to see me every day, and for me to carry on giving their children dancing classes. I was so touched by their support.
Later I spoke to Esther Rantzen about the situation and, fortunately, she too was right behind us, telling us we shouldn’t throw away all we’d achieved. Then Patrick, realising something was going on, asked me to explain what had been upsetting us so much, so, in simple terms I did, and asked him what he thought I should do. ‘You should carry on doing what you’ve been doing, Mum,’ he said. ‘Don’t let anybody else tell you differently.’
We knew we faced a big, big decision within a few weeks if we were going to succeed in buying The Lawns because the LEA had been asking whether or not we had the provision in place and we needed to acquire the necessary planning permission from Hillingdon Borough Council. We’d already assessed 33 more children, so we knew we must expand – and quickly – and we were constantly being asked by parents of prospective pupils whether or not we’d got planning permission for The Lawns in place.
Planning permission was eventually secured, despite one objection, and I have to say that Dave and Alex played instrumental parts in gaining approval. That’s their bag, planning and maintenance; they’re particularly good at that sort of thing. However, our joy was almost immediately tempered by the news that we’d been gazumped: if we still wanted to buy The Lawns the asking price was now a cool £1 million! This would mean that a further £20,000 would need to be added to the already steep deposit and this was money we had earmarked for the refit of the science laboratory, domestic science kitchen, new toilets, IT facilities and fencing, among other things. I was absolutely fuming!
Further meetings between the directors and shareholders, although lively and stressful, eventually saw an agreement reached between us all. We would probably amalgamate with the second service provider after all. This, we concluded, would be the best way forward for the school and its associated facilities. I was left to comfort myself with the thought that at least I would still be in a position of some influence over the running of the school, albeit to a lesser degree than before.
At the s
ame time were very aware that the children and young adults at our establishments are special and vulnerable individuals and I and the other directors owed it to them to ensure that their future would be safe and secure with us. Of course the successful conclusion of the sale would be subject to us obtaining a number of reassurances from the consortium. In fact, as we write, that is where we stand.
All this aside, our problems were far from over. Suddenly, we discovered the asking price for The Lawns had spiralled by yet a further £100,000; then our human-resources manager, Kevin Mullally, noticed some men in suits wandering around The Lawns. ‘Are you looking to buy it, too?’ he asked and was gobsmacked when he was informed they already had – and that they had exchanged contracts for the property a month before!
And so it was that our interest in The Lawns ended with all our directors and consortium partners unhappy. Meanwhile, the problem of overcrowding at the Upper School remained unresolved and time was running out before the new term was due to begin.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. The decision was made to obtain a further three Portakabins to house the extra Upper School students and to make use of the Mencap building adjacent to Hillingdon Manor until a more satisfactory solution could be found.
It seemed to me the whole issue of purchasing The Lawns had opened up a very unpleasant atmosphere between some of the directors and Sean and me, and, in the end, it had all been for nothing.
Chapter Twelve
Patrick
So where are we now as a family? Well, as individuals, we have all changed significantly since we embarked on this journey. When Patrick was out of school, his behaviour, even though I loved him, had turned him into a child I really didn’t like that much. Nowadays, he’s a completely different young man.
At the moment Patrick is very much into Eminem’s music. He seems to enjoy the ‘bad boy’ image portrayed by the rapper and frequently asks if he can go out and wear a hood. I always refuse, but he just cannot see why. He cannot appreciate the danger he could find himself in if he tries to mix with the wrong sort of people, or how he could be so easily led astray.
Patrick is very good at mimicry. He does an excellent impression of the comic actor Jim Carrey and grew up with my Northern accent even though he’s not local to the area, which is common between autistic children and their mothers. Now, however, his Northern accent seems to have subsided to some degree and he is beginning to sound more like a Londoner.
My brother Tullio now lives in London, too. He’s a jokey sort of character and gets on well with the boys, particularly Patrick, who has taken a shine to him. Patrick insists that Uncle Tullio ‘puts me out of my misery because he makes me laugh’.
Patrick has become a handsome and sensitive young man. He keeps himself clean and presentable and he’s kind and thoughtful, although when he gets a bee in his bonnet about something he can be quite selfish. That said, once he’s got it off his chest, he’ll usually say, ‘Sorry, Mum.’
He’s made incredible progress and I’m sure he wouldn’t have done so without our school. In fact, even if I had to go through the heartaches and ups and downs of the last few years all over again, it would be well worth it just to see how well he’s come on.
Patrick will definitely continue to need support in a work environment but I am convinced he now has the ability to get a job. However, while I don’t think he’ll have a problem getting work, I wonder if he will be able to keep it. That could be another matter owing to certain anxieties that sometimes overtake him, and he’s still a bit vulnerable and naïve.
At the time of writing, Patrick has a girlfriend! We are so pleased for him, particularly as it’s done his ego the power of good and because he had been convinced no girl would ever be interested in him. She has been very understanding and, when she discovered that Patrick had a fear of the police, she even arranged for him to be shown around a local police station in the hope he could overcome his anxieties.
His fear of the police almost cost him his life in June 2007. Patrick had popped down to our local corner shop to buy some shampoo. While on the way he heard the siren of a passing police car and instantly panicked, so much so he ran straight into the road in front of two other cars and was extremely lucky not to have been run over.
His anxiety was heightened even more when a police car stopped. A couple of policemen got out and stopped him running any further. ‘Why were you running?’ one of them asked. ‘You were almost killed.’
Patrick began to panic even more. He told the policemen he had Asperger Syndrome. The policemen apologetically admitted they had no idea what this was. Then one of them searched Patrick’s pockets for drugs. He asked that, since Patrick had this syndrome, did he need to go to hospital? Patrick declined and asked the policeman to telephone me on our home number.
My heart sank when the telephone rang and I realised I was talking to a police officer. Whatever had happened? However, I was told not to worry, but that Patrick was panicking and had become very anxious. At the time I was wearing only my pyjamas, so Sean popped down to the corner shop to collect Patrick and to speak to the policemen.
To be fair, the police officer and his colleague had been very kind to Patrick. They told Sean they felt he was a good lad, and that Patrick should have some assistance to help him cope with his fear of the police – maybe visit a police station – and that he was a very lucky lad still to be alive.
Patrick was still very shaken when he arrived home but, in a weird way, I think this experience may have done him a favour in that his perception of the police had been that they were to be feared at all times. Now he had seen them in another light. They had been helpful and kind, yet he was most disappointed that they’d had no idea what autism was.
Of course, having his first girlfriend has led to his bombarding me with a myriad questions, which, at times, has driven me crazy! Patrick analyses everything I tell him and everything his girlfriend tells him to ensure there are no hidden double meanings. It’s bloody hard work to give advice, give it again, and then again when, all the time, a little voice in the back of my head is screaming, ‘Shut up!’
Patrick tells me of his difficulties when he was trying to explain the intricacies of Asperger Syndrome to his girlfriend. ‘Why can’t I be normal?’ he asked me. I tried to reassure him by telling him it didn’t mean anything, that he’d always been the same person since the day he was born, that it’s not as if he’d just found out he was different.
All I ever really crave for in my life is some peace. Is that too much to ask? I always know if Patrick is about to give me a hard time with all his questioning because he usually starts the conversation off with, ‘Sorry, Mum, but… ’ That said, he is far more aware of the pressures he puts on Sean and me nowadays. He’s definitely more empathetic, but still insists on getting his own point across first!
Patrick didn’t even like human beings at one time – now he’s got friends, and people really seem to like him. Although he had convinced himself that no girl would ever like him, I have to say the opposite is the case. He has plenty of female admirers, several of whom have expressed an interest in going out with him or even being his girlfriend.
So far, I’ve been most impressed in the way he’s handled such situations. He has made a point of trying to let them down gently by telling them he already has a girlfriend and that, in no small way, is down to the strategies he was taught at Hillingdon Manor, the Upper School and at East Berkshire College in Maidenhead, through role play, to deal with these situations in a sensitive way. He even told me he felt bad afterwards in case he had hurt anyone’s feelings. There’s no doubt he’s learned to be loyal, understanding and considerate and, I have to say, as a result, I am immensely proud of him.
Patrick began attending East Berkshire College whilst still at Hillingdon Manor in September 2006. This was a big step for him. His progression to this mainstream college came about after Sean Pavitt assessed him as being capable enough to cope. Patrick ha
d been doing well at the Upper School and Sean felt moving on to East Berkshire College would help prepare him for a degree of independent living.
When he first attended East Berkshire College he did so for one day a week, this was a particularly stressful time for Patrick. Prior to being picked up by the minibus on his first day, he had been very anxious, though I wasn’t because I felt Patrick was in the good hands of members of staff from the Upper School who would be shadowing him.
Of course, Patrick’s anxieties were not unexpected. After all, he was used to attending a school with another 79 students, but, with 1,600 students in East Berkshire College, it was obviously a daunting prospect for him. However, with the support of staff at the Upper School and the staff at his new college, his fears and anxieties were allayed within a couple of weeks and he now travels to Maidenhead twice a week, spending the rest of the week at the Upper School, where he has already completed his Duke of Edinburgh bronze award and, at the time of writing, he’s working his way to gaining his silver award.
In 2008 Patrick was due to leave the Upper School so a special goodbye assembly was held for him and two other students. All three were presented with a Hillingdon Manor school diary that showed pictures throughout the years of them with their classmates. It was a very emotional occasion and I was glad when a member of staff passed me a box of tissues!
It was decided that training would be required to prepare Patrick for the journey he would need to undertake to get from our home to the college, as this would consist of a combination of bus and train journeys. This was practiced throughout the summer holiday period until we were satisfied Patrick would be able to cope with the daily commute.
Patrick is now undertaking a Higher Options course, which covers maths, English, IT, vocational and art. He is hoping to commence a media studies course next year.
Looking to the future, I can envisage a time when Patrick will be able to look after himself, although with some support, which is why I’m trying to plug every hole, support-wise, for him now before I’m dead and gone.