We say that the teacher / teacher, is the second parent of our children, since it is called to reinforce what we learn in our children as parents and they carry them from their home, but it also has the main reason for their knowledge.
I write my articles as I speak and discuss in my daily life. Immediately, with my truths, my point of view without fear and with passion. It's like having you readers in front of me and I feel the responsibility to… I look you in the eyes…
Nothing prevents or hinders me from crumpling, exposing and even unfolding personal experiences, so as to touch on social phenomena that concern most of our society.
So today I am going to tell you about an incident involving my seven-year-old autistic son.
We say that school is our children's second home, as they spend most, if not most, of their day in it, certainly several.
We as parents ought to teach our children respect, understanding, empathy, love, appreciation and all these moral principles that a person carries within you.
The teacher, every child he takes in his arms, will embrace it lovingly, will make him love school as a place, but also learning as the greatest tool for his cognitive resources that will train him in our society. It will infuse him with the necessity of knowledge and will teach him all its positives.
A child starts his journey many times at a very young age for many different reasons, which is not present and the teacher is the guide.
At this tender age, then, we put the child in the process of moving away from the habit of his home, our hugs and our affection, we want to fall into good hands. Any teacher who gets in his way is supposed to have a love for children. Thank God, he still has such teachers. I like to call them ministers because I believe that they do not just promise, but offer a function to the most sensitive souls of our planet. To our children.
Somehow, the time came for my own child, fifth in a row - which means that all these years I have socialized with many teachers - to join the smaller school context, that of the preschooler.
Having not yet received any relevant diagnosis, except for the signs of autism - with the appointment pending for two months later - we went through the school door. We were greeted by a teacher, her assistant and the principal. Young women, I thought, so they will have the appetite and stamina to work and learn what a child needs at this age.
Really, I have never been more laughing in my life. The first days were adjustment. Reasonable. But the days passed. The weeks the same. And from September we arrived at the beginning of October. And the little one only went for two hours, three times a week. My little one is generally a happy child, happy, he loves, he hugs, but with this particular teacher he was far away. Only with the teacher. Because she had no problem with her assistant.
Have you seen many teachers sitting at a coffee table with coffee in one hand and one foot on top of the other? However, I do not. And yet, as many times as I had to pick up the child from school and not the husband, what I saw in the classroom was the children being occupied only by the assistant, she shouting at the children - but shouting - when a child got up from his chair and my Spyros constantly sitting on the floor with a strange irritation and some toys in his hands.
A lot happened with this one, culminating in a day when his dad went to pick up the child and found him in a strange situation with the voices of that teacher being heard all the way to the sidewalk. They came home, and when we managed to calm the child, my husband could not stand it anymore, he broke out. Yes, she burst into tears because she could not stand her anesthesia. He could not bear to witness such behavior of a teacher to a child and even to the spectrum. He knew the case of the child, he saw the signs, he knew that all that was left was to officially take a piece of paper in our hands that would seal autism as a disease.
I even went to make a complaint to the child's ombudsman, I went to the Municipality, I complained to the principal and her answer was that she is a bit awkward as a character and has a strong voice. I suggested that he send her to the populist so that he could make the most of her stuttering voice.
Wherever I went I found doors closed. There is nothing we can do. That was the answer. Put a private parallel. 600+ euros per month because some teachers are deeply nightmarish and comfortable and do not want to learn how to deal with such situations. I know infant teachers who are constantly repeating seminars so that children who can attend a formal context and do not need a special school immediately, can spend their hours there beautifully and properly.
Yes, I found parallel special treatment for the next two months. A great, young girl. My child did not have a chair with his name like the other children or a place at a table until she demanded it. Yes, he told me that the little one is happy at school and let him not play with the other children. Yes, during these two months Spyros left and returned with a huge smile on his face.
In conclusion, you are born a teacher, you do not become one.
