The contents of the brown envelope told me that my 28-month-old son
was hitting the targets for an eight-to-20 month-old in five of the
'areas of learning'.
What? What? What had I missed about the development of my child? This envelope had been cheerily handed to me as I had picked up my son from the small playgroup setting that he had been attending three mornings a week for ten weeks. Its imminent arrival had been mentioned in his handover book the week prior and I had excitedly anticipated it.
I consider myself an 'involved parent' - I had spent plenty of time at the playgroup to settle Thomas in, am always keen to chat with his key person about his well-being, pore over the notes she writes in his handover book (no previous mention of any concerns here) and enthusiastically share information about his well-being and development from home.
I am captivated by any new chapter in Thomas's life and welcome anything that gives me an insight into this veiled world - this experience that, for the first time, I cannot share completely with him.
Yet here was an official document in my hands, telling me that my boy was not progressing as he should, that he was 'not reaching his developmental milestones'. I thought back over the ten weeks since he had started: yes, I knew Thomas found saying goodbye to me difficult, that he was unused to other little children (but relished the company of his significantly older siblings and their friends), that he was a thoughtful, calm child and an observer rather than rambunctious and confident.
CRISIS OF CONFIDENCE
But developmentally delayed? I didn't know that. I had not been aware of the slightest inkling within myself that there might be a problem. I concluded that I must be blinded by the love I felt for my son, biased and unable to judge with impartiality; in the six years that had passed since my next eldest child had been a toddler I must have forgotten what two-year-olds should be able to do. I must be in denial. The playgroup staff had surely been trained specifically to assess my boy accurately - they were professional and could be objective and must have compared him to his peers. I swiftly arrived at the distressing conclusion that, despite being an experienced mother and a well-qualified social scientist, the playgroup staff were surely right about Thomas. I, therefore, could only be wrong. As I sat alone in my home that afternoon, the potential implications of the report contents dawned on me and panic descended.
CONTINUOUS COMMUNICATION
Fast forward one month: one miserable month filled with hours of internet research and a hundred conversations with anybody (people who knew my son or knew about child development, or even those who had ever had any dealings with toddlers).
It took a huge number of people telling me that there was not a problem with Thomas's development before I could even begin to erase the negative impact of reading the contents of that brown envelope. To the setting's credit (and my own), we have worked together to find a way forward.
Yes, there were some extremely awkward conversations between us and some serious soul-searching on my part about the future of Thomas's early years education. Nevertheless, I was determined that I would not let my anger knee-jerk away this little boy who had started, with his clumsy first sentences, to communicate to me that he really quite liked going to this playgroup.
Most importantly, his key person and I make certain that our daily conversations and communications form the basis of his ongoing developmental checks. These will now be a holistic assessment of Thomas, incorporating not only her observations of him in his setting but also, and most importantly, my expert knowledge of him as the child he is for the rest (and vast majority) of his life.
We have become co-creators of his ongoing developmental reviews just as we always should have been. The communication process is continuous, unceasingly mutually enlightening and actually, for me, an immense pleasure. As far as Thomas and his development are concerned, I am optimistic that the days of unpleasant surprises are over, not least those that lurk in brown envelopes.
Dr Sarah Christie is a senior research and knowledge exchange fellow in the Research Centre for Children, Families and Communities based at Canterbury Christ Church University.
