#adoption #school #nspccassembly #childabuse #trauma

All posts tagged #adoption #school #nspccassembly #childabuse #trauma

My Special Assembly

Published January 10, 2017 by thefamilyof5

We had a special assembly today, some people came to visit.

Everyone was really excited to hear what it was about, but not me. I don’t really like it when strangers come in to school, it makes me feel all weird and scared inside, I don’t know why.

Anyway, today was no different, there was a man with a stripy T-shirt and a lady in a blue dress. I felt funny in my tummy. Mr Jones set up the big screen for them, everyone thought we were going to watch the new Disney film that came out in the cinema last week. But we didn’t.

 At first I wasn’t really sure what was happening, I heard lots of words but I couldn’t make sense of what they were saying, and then I realised. It was all about me! These people had come in to school to tell everyone about me. They told everyone about what it was like, you know, before I got adopted. They told everyone in my school that my birth dad used to hit me and my birth mom. They even told them about the times they both got drunk, I remembered how they did rude things to each others private parts that night, it was gross. Then they told everyone about the time they left me in the house by myself for the whole day, I was so hungry but I didn’t dare leave the house or cry, they’d have just got mad and hit me. Everyone was looking at me. I just looked down. I didn’t want to look up and see their eyes starring at me. My cheeks burned. I really wanted to cry but then they’d all laugh and think I was a baby. I just sat quietly and hoped they’d stop. But they didn’t. They got out the laptop next and showed a film. I took a peek. It wasn’t me in the film and I didn’t recognise any of the other people, but I knew It was about me. I just knew it. The man hit the lady and the little boy sat and cried, he was hiding under his bed. Just like I used to. It was definitely about me. I felt sick. I wanted to get up and run out, I wanted to ask my teacher if I could go to the toilet, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t trust her now. I thought she was my friend but she let these people tell everyone about me. My mom let this happen too, why would my mom tell them all of this stuff about me, why did she let this happen, how could she!! No one will ever want to be my friend now, they all know I’m bad.image-boy-ashamed

I didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the day, I knew they were all sniggering and talking about me, they thought I didn’t know, but I did. When the bell went at the end of the day I got my bag ready super fast and ran outside to my mom who was waiting for me. I gave her the biggest hug, I wanted everyone to see that she loved me. When we got home I shouted at my mom, I shouted a lot. I told her how much I hated her, I hit her, Just like I saw my birth parents doing to each other. I was bad. She needed to see how bad I was!

My special assembly today was about Child Abuse and Neglect. The visitors in my school were from the NSPCC. My teachers hadn’t really thought much about me when they planned it, they didn’t consider how talking about such things would stir up my traumatic memories, or how I would feel hearing my life story being discussed in that way. My mom didn’t know about the assembly so when I went home and screamed at her and hit her, she had no idea why. She didn’t know how to help me because she didn’t know what was wrong. If the teachers in my school had listened to my mom and read the books that she suggested then they would have known what would happen and I wouldn’t be sat in my room crying now and my mom wouldn’t be sat in the lounge crying and bruised.

Events like this aren’t suitable for all children. Schools need to be better educated on the lasting effects of trauma and neglect so they can begin to have some insight in to how these things effect these children. A simple phone call to mum here would have allowed her to either prepare her child, or withdraw them. Because afterall, mum always knows best.

 

 

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