Positive Relationships: Behaviour, Part 3 - Powerful feelings

Pat Gordon-Smith
Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Ways that early years staff can thoughtfully engage the parents of challenging children are explored by Pat Gordon-Smith.

The previous articles in this series (8 July, 12 August) looked at the need for a clear ethos and a strong, supported staff team if children who cannot stay in control are to flourish in the early years. Now it's time to throw light on parents' feelings, on what practitioners can draw from them and how an honest, fear-free partnership provides the best context for all involved - children, families and staff. (The term 'parent' is used for any adult with that responsibility, regardless of their relationship to the child).

UNDERSTANDING PARENTS

In the community of any setting or school, parents vastly outnumber staff. It's a reality that can be overwhelming, but one with a direct mirror because, apart from in a childminder's home, staff involved with the care and education of any one child will outnumber that individual's parents, perhaps several times over.

While a child's key person will be the main contact for parents, some or all of the following may also be involved in providing support and making decisions for that child: the setting head, the deputy head, manager(s), proprietor(s), SENCo, practitioners sharing the key person role, other practitioners in the room, practitioners in other rooms, volunteers, lunchtime staff, office staff, agency staff, visiting peripatetic teachers, local authority advisers ... and often many more.

Of course, the best staff structures have flexibility, accountability and extra capacity in order to achieve the best possible experience for all children and adults. These are characteristics of all the settings featured in this series for their skilful work with children whose actions are challenging to work with.

But compare even the best-quality professional, supportive, nurturing team, with the solitary figure of a parent (for it is usually only one who attends the setting) whose child regularly bites, kicks, spits, howls or squirms on the floor over a period of time. This parent has no early years training. She has no colleagues to plan with and no professional bodies to consult. She may have little or no 'non-contact time' and, especially if her child is hurting others, no informal allies beyond a partner or extended family. She may not even have that.

For such an individual, the staff who form an impressive team of partners for most parents can feel like a hounding posse whose attention does little but reinforce existing hurt and helplessness. 'Parents live with a sense of fear, and this manifests itself as emotion,' says Jo Cameron, joint director of Parents for Inclusion, the national support network for families of disabled children.

Her view is echoed in the National Strategies' guide for practitioners supporting children with behavioural, emotional and social difficulties. This explains that 'families may be shocked, embarrassed, frightened, defensive or angry about the suggestion that their child's behaviour or understanding is different from other children's' (DCSF 2010: 18).

In these circumstances, a parent/practitioner partnership may not be easy to establish or maintain, and the setting's staff will need more than early years training and good organisation to support vulnerable parents and their children, and to cope themselves. They need understanding and empathy.

'Unless staff appreciate the kind of feelings and problems that parents are dealing with, they will not be able to fully value them or their child,' says Jo Cameron. 'Parents often already have a history of people rejecting their child, or will become overwhelmed by being told every day that he or she has behaved badly. What's most helpful in preventing this is the way in which staff talk to parents.' And the prime aspect of this, she explains, is the initial welcome that parents receive.

Little Holcombe and Tower View Nurseries in Bury, Lancashire, show how the tools for creating a genuine sense of welcome for all parents need not be complicated. The secret is variety underpinned by commitment.

'We have several formal and informal ways of talking to parents about their child's interests, and of keeping communication channels open,' says Judith Banwell, early years teacher at these partner settings. 'We make it clear that parents can phone us whenever they like - perhaps to reassure themselves that the day is going well, or just for a chat. We go out of our way to make sure that they never feel they are bothering us.'

Strengthening this approach are two methods of communication that enable parents to share their thoughts and experiences in writing. The first is a termly questionnaire, in which parents describe daily routines, list forthcoming family events and are encouraged to talk about successes and concerns. It ensures that the setting's paper evidence of a child and family's circumstances is constantly updated. The second method creates a bridge between this formal record and the informal invitation to chat, as Judith Banwell explains.

'We have a sheet called "I just want to say ..." which anyone can fill in at any time - staff or parents. This gives everyone the opportunity to pass on news of successes or difficulties at the moment when they happen, so that all the people involved can offer praise and/or support when it's most needed.'

Both the questionnaire and the sheet enable parents to keep a little distance which, in Ms Banwell's experience, can make it easier for them to share difficult information. She says, 'When one child's father died, the mother, who had shared custody with him, used the sheets to share much more than she otherwise could have done about how the family was coping and remembering the person they'd lost.'

ALLIES FOR CHILDREN

A broad culture of non-judgemental communication will make it easier for parents who fear rejection to share their feelings, and for practitioners to convey the practical and caring nature of steps they wish to take for a child.

But parents who are struggling with concerns about their child's experiences, behaviour and future need additional and personal help if they are to do more than just cope. 'Parents of disabled children should be encouraged to have the big dream for them, just as any other parent,' says Linda Whitehead, development worker at Parents for Inclusion. 'We need to see how we can best act as allies to parents so that they can be allies for their children.'

Of course, no early years setting can create a foolproof safety net of understanding for any parent. But providing parents with reliable support and encouragement is entirely possible.

At Canterbury Nursery School and Centre for Children and Families in Bradford, West Yorkshire, parents are regarded as 'everybody's business', not just that of family support workers.

Canterbury is able to draw on the knowledge of staff across its services to ensure that the needs of all children and their families are considered from as many points of view as possible. Every child is discussed in the course of termly meetings between the head, the SENCo and representatives of the family support and nursery teams. 'We try to determine patterns and combine our different perspectives to see if a child or their family needs additional help or a different form of support,' says centre head Christine McKay. 'There are high levels of need in this area, and so discussions about whether a child's difficulties might be developmental or social are common.'

While the breadth of knowledge and the tools to serve many different needs may not be available in smaller settings, the principle of sharing observations and acting on them to signpost the most helpful support is possible in any context. Canterbury shows that simple, small-scale solutions can offer the specific alliances needed by parents whose children are unable to control their emotions and actions.

'We have a weekly carers' group for parents of children with special needs,' says Ms McKay. 'It's an informal drop-in where parents can share their experiences, and is both a way of offering support and a social gathering where parents feel able to talk openly.'

Two members of staff support the group meetings, and are able to build relationships with the parents who attend. 'The staff involved in the carers' group are in the best position to understand the emotions of parents who are coping with a child with difficulties, as they hear so much about the carers' lives,' says Ms McKay. 'They are able to pass that on to other staff, though to an extent that is a work in progress.'

This is a candid statement of the need to have a constant eye on improvement, but it is shot through with clarity, determination and a will to experiment. These are qualities that respect the unique child and the unique family, and are just what a successful alliance between parents and practitioners requires.

CONCLUSION

So far, this series has lifted the lid on the experiences of the adults involved when a young child's behaviour causes upset in an early years setting. But the most important voices are yet to be heard - those of the children. Only they experience the emotions that erupt in violence or other distressing acts; only they have a direct window on to their needs.

The problem is that the very experiences which make it difficult for children to control their actions in socially expected ways also make it hard for them to interpret their own feelings and express their needs. But knowing their views is crucial if practitioner allies are to provide effectively for their needs - and the children have a right to be heard. Accordingly, a fourth article will look at ways of listening to young children whose behaviour reveals their distress, and hear what they have said.

- Pat Gordon-Smith is a writer and editor for the early years. See her children's rights blog at http://patsky.blogspot.com

 

CASE STUDY: HOW IT FEELS

A parent talks about the emotions involved in loving and nurturing a child whose feelings and actions can be distressing.

I worry too much. If something happens at home in the morning, I'll catch myself wondering how things are going at school and what I'll find when I get there. And if I'm not worrying about today, I'm worrying about tomorrow or next year, or when Elliott is grown up. Will he make long-term friendships? Will he find love? Will he be happy? I've lost a lot of sleep that way.

I'm never completely relaxed when we're out with Elliott's friends. There are very few children who actively want to spend time with him and I find myself with half an eye or half an ear on what they're doing, just so I might catch a situation before it threatens the friendship. Of course, I shouldn't do it. It's intrusive and over-protective. If I didn't spend so much time on the stupid worrying, I'd probably find it easier to back off.

I always get a jolt of nerves when the phone rings and I see the school's number on the screen. The call is usually about something else, but the few conversations I've had with confused teachers have left me at a loss to know how to help, and fearful that Elliott and I might somehow be blamed.

I love Elliott powerfully. I think it's especially intense because he still needs me at nearly seven in so many of the ways he did when he was three and four - far more than most children his age. I'm openly impressed and enthusiastic when his thinking or relationships or interests develop in a new way. I want everyone else to know about them too.

But there are times when I feel bitterly furious with Elliott, for not being like other children. It can seem like he's been talking at me for days. And if he hides under the quilt and hisses at me again instead of getting dressed, or carries on making that vile squawking noise at his brother until he cracks, then sometimes I can't be inventive and nurturing any more. I just lose my temper and shout, and then spend hours regretting it.

I want everyone at Elliott's school to know how much I appreciate them. I want them to feel as much supported by me as I do by them. When Elliott is unhappy or under stress, he can act in ways that feel like a personal attack - laughing at you or spitting. I know now that it's not personal, that it's just a sign that he's not coping. But sometimes you can't help feeling hurt by it, so it's important that teachers know I understand. Even so, there are times when I don't feel charitable, when I just want them to damn well work it out for themselves. I've been known to lose my temper there as well.

None of these feelings mean that I would change Elliott. I'm just being honest about them. He's one of the most interesting and exciting people I've ever known - partly because he's confusing, partly because he's so imaginatively funny and loving, but mainly because he's my little boy and I love him. I just wish daily life was a little less challenging.

 

REFERENCE

DCSF (2010) Inclusion development programme: supporting children with behavioural, emotional and social difficulties - guidance for practitioners in the Early Years Foundation Stage. London: Department for Children, Schools and Families

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