This time last year we made the decision. It was simple on the surface. The boys are at a two-form entry school. After a year in reception we worked with the school to separate my boys.
The decision wasn’t one we or the school made easily. But the benefits of understanding them better as individuals was far too great overlook.
The secondary decision was more difficult. Which child would be placed into a new class?
We had a sense of which child should move into the new class. But we agreed, this was a decision best left to the boys.
And so, last September, B made the move.And whilst the initial months of the school year came under close scrutiny, it wasn’t long before all three of our children were subject to the same treatment after school. Questions on ‘how was your day?’ were simply openings to conversations. And yet, I sat at a children’s party today, of one of B’s classmates, I realised how much I’d taken for granted.
B has demonstrated every bit of resilience. More than most 6 year-olds should.
Him moving to a classroom, of peers with established relationships, away from his sibling and his peers, has demonstrated what an amazing child he is. And he knows, as well as me, he’s not perfect. He remains a boisterous boy. His relationship with his twin means he completely overlooks personal space. And yes, he can be naughty. He’s also a bit further behind at school in learning that I would like. His sister breezing through the years didn’t prepare me for how others may struggle.
But even though he’s not where he could be, he has gusto. He throws himself into his reading and own learning, and it’s a lovely time to be with him.
Of course, he’s no angel, capturing him at the time he has the gusto, and ahead of when he’s best distracted is a tried and tested experiment with no pattern. But on those days, when he’s tired. On those days, when he’s naughty. On those days, when he’s frustrated. I will carry on treating him in the same way as I do his siblings.