Spoiler Warning: This post contains plot details from Spiderman: Brand New Day.
On Friday, Midge and I went to see Spiderman: Brand New Day, and it felt like the perfect way to spend our last bit of time together before she heads to her dad’s. We’re both Marvel fans, and when we do get some Maddy Time, watching movies is our thing. It’s how we connect. So, for me, this film mattered before we even sat down. I get time with my amazing daughter.
When your child reaches a milestone, you feel it in a way that sits somewhere between pride, relief, and joy. Last week my amazing daughter, Midge passed her driving test. I knew she would. She was ready long before the certificate arrived, yet hearing her say the words still felt like a moment worth holding.
Two weeks ago I wrote about an incident with a staff member at Arty’s school. A week later, after my complaint, I met with the Head teacher. It wasn’t the best day. Miss L, offered to move the meeting but I wanted it done.
My nerves weren’t just about Arty or what happened that morning. After eighteen months of fighting for James, I knew school meetings can turn against you fast. I’ve watched schools hide mistakes rather than fix them. I’ve seen the system break my child. Those experiences entered this room with me.
This meeting felt different. They had a staff member take notes because I cannot. That alone was a small victory after everything that happened with James’ school.
James has been with his new tutor for three weeks. We didn’t know how it would go. He spent the weekend before the first session begging me to cancel it. His anxiety was through the roof. He didn’t want to go back to anything that looked or sounded like school.
We didn’t cancel. We adjusted. We started at 10am instead of 9.30am so he had space to breathe. That shift made the difference. He met G. They talked. They found a rhythm and lesson interests. She explained that learning didn’t have to be at a table, actively involving worksheets, or be the rigid routine that broke him. They could go out, explore, and learn in the world. Whatever sparked his interest. Lessons, resources, and routines all built around him.
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It’s a bank holiday weekend. May bank holidays usually have us taking part in the Sweeps Festival, but this one is different. The six of us are driving to Wrexham to celebrate Hannah’s brother getting married on Monday. The rest of her family arrive on Sunday. We wanted to stretch the weekend into something more than a timetable and a wedding, so we left today.
James has always been bright, funny, creative, expressive, mischievous, troublesome and mouthy, but “different”. He never needed fixing. He just needed micromanaging. He was never purposefully naughty, despite often finding himself in trouble. For the school, it was always labelled as behavioural.
As an ex-teacher, qualified in child development and psychology, and someone who knows our son’s true character, I knew there was an underlying cause outside of behavioural issues. Nevertheless, a question mark always hovered above him.
That was until this month.
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I’ve always preferred Easter to Christmas. Christmas has grown into something bigger, busier, and more frantic than it ever was when I was a child. Yes, I do realise how old I sound saying that. Easter still feels rooted. It remains focused on why we celebrate, and that grounding means even more to me as I move through the ordination process.
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When I handed in our formal complaint, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I knew the school would struggle and we wouldn’t get everything we wanted. However, I believed, perhaps naively, that with everything laid out clearly: dates, transcripts, emails, and staff admissions, the school would finally see the pattern James and we have been experiencing.
I didn’t expect a response that said lots while saying almost nothing at all.
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In December, I wrote about how James isn’t a problem to solve, but a child to understand. By now, I should be writing about progress. Instead, it’s about what happens when a school ignores warning after warning until a child finally breaks.
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Some moments change you, without you even realising how significant they’ll become. This happened to me in the summer of 2017, when a small girl looked up at me during a visit to Kent and asked if she could call me “Dad.”
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The boy's Mum and I have a positive co-parenting relationship. We fought for a few years, but we maintained a united co-parenting front and eventually acknowledged each other's efforts and pushed forward with mutual respect, something she wrote here in 2015.
A lot has changed. I met Hannah, and all four kids instantly had a bigger family. The boys Mum, Stepdad, Hannah, and I have a WhatsApp group where the stepparents, more organised than the biological parents, maintain necessary communication. Their household has entertained the step-siblings when we've had emergencies. Hannah and the boys Mum, have met for a coffee and chat; there's nothing ominous about your future wife and ex-wife socialising, right? Hannah and her parents socialised with the boys Mum when the step-siblings attended an event. The boys Mum also attends co-parenting meetings and socialised with old mutual friends in our house. I wouldn't say we have a friendship, but it's good. She said in her post, "There were two little ones. And they, whether we liked it or not, had tied our fates together forever. . . There was only "like it or lump it." So, maybe we've moved past the lump-it stage and are at the like-it stage.
Dad was born to Edgar and Julia Kitney on the 10th of June 1940 in Rainham. He was raised in 59 Station Road and for a short time alongside his cousin, Christine. At 12 his sister Ruth was born and you can see in old family photos his pride of being a big brother. His other cousin, Don said despite Keith being 11 years older than him and not seeing him much, he still has fond memories during the 60s when the family would gather together. Even then, Dad loved to be around family.
In 1954, at the age of 14, Dad joined the Royal Marines school of music at Deal where he played a variety of instruments from Violin, clarinet and trumpet. Whilst there he took on lots of different roles. Usually to benefit himself somehow. He enjoyed kitchen duty peeling potatoes or giving tours on a Sunday as it got him out of the mandatory church services. Being sporty he included himself in lots of different activities; one of which was Boxing.
Anything other than heterosexual was "wrong".
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Back to school has pretty much happened for everyone now.
I’ve seen everyone have very mixed feelings about the kids going back.
Me?
I’m not that bothered.
