Be Like Water

I was stood up last Thursday.....by a social worker.

Shocking, I know.  Shocking first because I thought social workers were über prepared and prompt people.  

Shocking second because why the hell does a social worker have to get involved in my family!!?

It all started the week before last.  Nyree and Lee had left for the morning 30 minutes earlier and at 9 a.m., Jonah was just finishing off his cereal and bananas.  A red car pulled up outside my house.  I didn't think anything of it at first but then this stout little woman came up my drive and started to open my front gate.  I thought she was the Avon lady or something but didn't have much time to dwell on it because my dogs were going ballistic (German shepherds and border collies can bark in stereo, trust me). 

The next thing I know, she's standing at my door - knocking! No one ever knocks on my door! Before I could answer it, I had to lock the collie in his kennel and the GSD upstairs behind a baby gate (she'll eat anyone who gets too close...unless she knows you of course, and then she will lick you to death.  The collie will just pee on your shoes).

So I shout that I'll be right there and shoo the dogs into their respective corners.  This only makes the dogs more irate and the cacophony grows.  And then I can see through the glass in the door that the woman is still knocking - incessantly.  This type of provocation is a red flag to a bull for my overwrought hounds.  I can hardly stand the noise.

Jonah is still in his high chair, calmly stuffing smashed bananas and Cheerios in his mouth, wondering what all the fuss is about.

At this point, I am in no mood for the interloper on my door.  I'm still in my pajamas, have yet to have a shower, do not yet have my contacts in, and am covered in Jonah's breakfast cast offs.  This is not how I greet members of the public - ever.  I don't leave the house without a liberal application of lipstick and mascara, at the very least.  I look like a zombie without them.  Trust me, it ain't pretty.

I answer the door and the first thing I notice about this woman is her county council badge.  As I used to have one, I know what they are.  Fabulous.

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Mrs White?"

"Yes."  (Dogs are going ape in the background).

"I'm from the Educational Welfare Office.  I am here about William."

"Oh?  I don't recall receiving a letter telling me you'd be stopping by."

"No, you wouldn't have.  It's our policy to cold call and I was in the neighbourhood."

Now, at this point, you should understand that as a former lawyer, the first thing I always do when dealing with anyone of an official nature is familiarize myself with all policies and procedures beforehand.  In fact, I had the damned thing downloaded weeks ago and had parts of it committed to memory.

"Well, it's a bit early for me and as you can see, I'm not dressed.  Oh, and I've looked at the policy and it doesn't say anything about cold calling."

"You must have read the wrong policy.  Whenever a child is absent from school, we stop by the home."

"William isn't absent from school - he is homeschooled.  I notified Madeley High School of this the first week in September. And if it the policy is the one that is available on the Council's website, then I have not read the wrong policy.  It states only that I have to meet with someone from the Elective Home Education team.  It doesn't say anything about meeting with an EWO."

"Yes, it does."

Sigh.  "Actually, what is says is that the EWO team "will make contact" after receiving notification from the relevant school of a parent's decision to electively home educate.  On the face of it, one is entitled to interpret "make contact" as a telephone call or correspondence, not a cold call at 9 am."

She pauses.  Clearly, she is not used to dealing with a banana smeared person like me.

"So you sent Madeley a Notification of Withdrawal letter?"

"Yes. Before term started."

"Well, you still need to meet with me so that we can fill in a form.  Once that is filled in, I notify Elective Home Education."  The Hounds of Hell have not stopped in their efforts to deafen me.

"I can see you later today, but as you can see, I am not properly dressed and it would be more convenient if I had time to sort out the dogs.  They won't stop barking."

"How about next week sometime?  The 13th perhaps?"

"What time on the 13th?" I ask.  "I am a governor at my daughter's school and I have a full governors' meeting that day."

"Oh, we could do it at say, 1:30? I'd only have to meet with you and William for about 30 minutes."

Whoa there, sister!  "Do you know anything about William?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Have you read any notes about him?"

"Should I have?"

Oh, for God's sake.  "I would have expected you to.  We've met several times over the last two years with Allison L from Educational psychology and she has extensive notes. "

"I've never heard of her."

"She's based and the Seabird Centre."

"Well, I'm based in Stafford, so there is no reason for me to have contact with her."

Seriously?  The Council sends a social worker to my house to make a cold call at 9 am in the morning and she doesn't know anything about my son? "William has Asperger's which is accompanied my extreme anxiety.  He finds meeting new people and discussing his condition with them extremely upsetting.  Since the Education Act specifically states that no one from the Council has a right to see my son, you will only be able to meet with me."

"Oh, I see.  Does he have special needs then?"

"No, he has anxiety."

"I see.  That's fine.  I'll see you on the 13th then."

The cold call ends.  I close the door.  The dogs have not yet stopped their rabid barking.  Jonah still looks unfazed.

Later that day, I go back and double-check the policy.  I was right.  I want to draft a stern letter of complaint to the Council for their heavy handed methods but Lee, who has since arrived home, says that I need to be like water (it's a Bruce Lee thing) and not let her get to me. It's better to keep her on our side than to piss her off.

Deep breath.  I'm already pissed off.  I hate being made to feel like I am doing something wrong, that I have put my child at risk of significant harm and am a bad parent.  I hate Big Brother watching me. Oh, and I hate other people patronizing me and telling me that we need to fill in a form together!  Is the form in English? If so, I am abundantly qualified to fill it in myself!

Deep breath.

On the 12th, Lee and I clean the inside and outside of the house in anticipation of her visit.  I am sure that in her travels she has seen some terrible sights, some truly horrific home situations, and the children were not removed from the home. That does not matter.  There will be no dirt on my floor, no streaks on my windows, no dust on my chandelier.  I'm not bothered about her opinion. It's a matter of principle.

The morning of the 13th dawns clear and bright.  How I wish we could take off and spend the morning in the sun.  Instead, I tidy up again, dusting over the same spots as yesterday.

12 pm.

1 pm.

1.25 pm.  Lee takes the dogs into the field so that it will be peaceful in the house.

1.45.

2.00.

By 2.30, I am convinced she is not coming.  I am sure it was a clerical mistake on her part, but I am annoyed anyway.

Whoever heard of a social worker who doesn't turn up?

I'm sure it happens all the time.  I am sure social workers aren't the only professionals who deal with troubled families who fail to do what they say, when they say they will do it.  I am sure there are plenty of good reasons.

I feel ticked off when it happened to me.  But I can keep it in perspective - it is not likely to happen again as my children are not at risk of harm.  Imagine, however, how often it happens to truly vulnerable families.  Is it any wonder they have a distrust for the system? First a cold call, then a missed appointment with no phone call or apology?  When you already have trust issues, how do you then trust the people who insist that you must and then fail to do what they said?

And why is a decision to homes school worthy of this type of intervention?  The law states that I am permitted to do it. There is no point to involve a social worker if I am acting within the law.  The waste of taxpayer's money makes me furious.

Anyway.  It's been two working days since she was supposed to turn up and we've had no sighting of her.  I've had no further contact with the woman nor do I know if she will be dropping by unannounced at some point in the future.  It is frustrating, to say the least. I cannot stop looking out my front window, wondering, when she will "drop by" because she was in the neighbourhood.

No one should have to endure this, not for something as benign as  homeschooling.

But I take my husband's advice anyway.  I am like water.

And when she turns up (as I am sure she will), I will try not to crash into her like a tsunami.