Gift SEN Therapist

26/09/2026

Caught unaware, right in my element. 💙
Just a therapist, doing what I love—with purpose, patience, and a whole lot of heart. ✨

12/09/2026

WHAT IF THE CHILD EVERYONE CALLED “SLOW” IN THE 80s WAS ACTUALLY THE CHILD NO ONE KNEW HOW TO TEACH?

1985.

A Nigerian classroom.

Ayo was a bright boy.

He was curious.
He could answer questions when his teacher explained them.
He remembered stories his mother told him.
He was always asking questions.

But reading was different.

“Ayo, stand up. Read this passage.”

Ayo stood.

He looked at the book.

He knew some of the words, but the sentences seemed to get mixed up in his head.

He tried.

He stopped.

He started again.

The teacher sighed.

“Ayo, you know this thing. Why are you behaving like this?”

A few children laughed.

Ayo quietly sat down.

That afternoon, his exercise book came home covered in red marks.

His mother looked at it and shook her head.

“Ayo, what is wrong with you? You are not a dull boy. You just don't want to read.”

But Ayo did want to.

He simply didn't understand why something that seemed easy for other children felt so difficult for him.

And back then, many adults didn't know what questions to ask.

Was he struggling to recognise words?

Was he having difficulty connecting sounds to letters?

Did he need more time?

Did he learn better when someone explained things differently?

Nobody really knew.

So instead of finding the reason, Ayo was given a name:

“Slow.”

And sometimes, that one word followed a child for years.

Today, we know much more about learning differences, neurodevelopment, and the importance of understanding how each child learns.

The child may not have changed.
Our understanding has.

And that is something worth remembering.

Before we call a child “slow,” “lazy,” or “difficult,” let's pause.

Let's observe.

Let's ask questions.

Let's look beyond the behaviour.

Because sometimes, a child doesn't need more pressure.

They need someone to discover what is making learning difficult—and find another way to reach them.

A struggling child is not automatically an incapable child.

Sometimes, the child isn't failing the lesson.
The lesson simply hasn't reached the child yet.

~ Gift, SEN Therapist 💙

10/09/2026

In a few days, the school gates will open again. 🎒

Some children will run in excited to see their friends.

Others may hold on tightly to Mum or Dad and not want to let go.

Both children are communicating something — and both deserve to be understood.

For some children, going back to school is exciting.

For some SEN children, it can be a lot.

The change from being at home for weeks to waking up early, getting dressed, leaving home, sitting in class, listening to instructions, dealing with noise, people, transitions and expectations again can be overwhelming.

And honestly, we sometimes forget that.

A child may cry on the first day.

A child may refuse to enter the classroom.

A child who usually follows instructions may suddenly struggle.

A child may come home completely exhausted after holding it together all day.

Please, don't be too quick to say, “But he has been doing this before.”

Yes, he has.

But a new school year can still feel like a lot.

As therapists, one of the things we try to do is prepare children for these little things before they become big problems.

We practise routines.

We talk about changes.

We teach them how to ask for help.

We practise saying, “I need a break,” “I don't understand,” or “Please help me.”

We work on waiting, transitioning, following instructions and coping when things don't go their way.

And sometimes, we simply give them time.

So as parents and teachers prepare for resumption, let's prepare the child too.

Not just the uniform.

Not just the books.

Not just the school bag.

Prepare the child for the experience of being back at school.

And when the first few days don't go perfectly, let's remember:

Adjustment is also part of the process.

Some children will settle in quickly.

Others will need a little longer.

That's okay. 💙

Here's to a new school year where we don't just ask,

“Is the child ready for school?”

Let's also ask,

“Is the school ready to support the child?”

— Gift, SEN Therapist 💙

01/09/2026

Welcome to September! 💙

A new month to keep supporting, learning, advocating, and celebrating every child’s progress.

Together, let’s continue building a community where every child is seen, heard, included, and empowered to thrive.

31/08/2026

: YOU ARE NOT ALONE 💙

When Amara looked back, she realised how much had changed.

There was a time when autism frightened her. She blamed herself, cried in silence, and wondered if she was doing enough.

But Daniel taught her something:

The journey wasn't about becoming the child she imagined. It was about discovering the child she had.

She learned to listen differently, celebrate small victories, ask for help, advocate, and adapt.

Daniel found new ways to communicate, learned new skills, and became more confident. He still had difficult days, but now, the people around him understood him better.

And Amara no longer walked into rooms wondering who would judge her child.

She walked in knowing how to advocate for him.

Their family still had challenges, but they also had something they didn't have before:

Understanding. Support. Hope.

To every parent, caregiver, teacher, therapist, sibling, and child navigating a different journey:

You matter. Your journey matters. Your progress matters.

A diagnosis is not the end of your child's story. It's simply one part of a much bigger story.

So when the journey feels overwhelming:

Take a breath. Keep going. Ask for support.

And remember:

YOU ARE NOT ALONE. 💙

THE END — FOR NOW.

31/08/2026

31/08/2026

EPISODE 11: THE SCHOOL THAT CHOSE INCLUSION

When Daniel first started school, inclusion was just a word on paper.
Then the school decided to do something different.
His teacher, therapist, parents and principal worked together to understand his strengths, communication style and challenges.

They simplified instructions, added visual supports, created predictable routines, allowed movement breaks and adapted activities.
But the biggest change happened among his classmates.

They learned that Daniel sometimes needed more time, communicated differently and could become overwhelmed by loud sounds.
They learned that being different didn’t mean being less.

One day, during group work, a child smiled and said:
“Daniel can be with me.”
They worked together.
It wasn’t perfect.
But when something didn’t work, the teacher said:
“Let’s try another way.”
And they did.
Daniel wasn’t just being accommodated.
He was belonging.

Inclusion isn’t about treating every child the same.
It’s about removing barriers so every child can participate, learn and belong.
A truly inclusive school doesn’t ask:
“How do we make this child fit?”
It asks:
“How can we make our school work for this child?”
Daniel’s school wasn’t perfect.
They were simply willing to learn.
Sometimes, inclusion begins not with perfection, but with willingness.

And Amara finally understood:
They were never alone.

TO BE CONTINUED…

31/08/2026

EPISODE 10: HE’S STILL MY SON

Daniel’s father, Emeka, loved his son.
But he was afraid.
Afraid of the diagnosis.
Afraid of what people would say.
Afraid of Daniel’s future.

He kept asking:
“Will he ever speak fluently?”
“Will he be independent?”
“Who will care for him when we’re gone?”

The questions came from love.
But his fear made him focus so much on tomorrow that he forgot to enjoy today.
One evening, he watched Daniel playing with his toy cars.
Daniel lined them up carefully, then looked up and smiled.
Emeka smiled back.

For once, he wasn’t thinking about what Daniel couldn’t do.
He was simply watching his son.
His son who loved cars.
His son who laughed at his favourite songs.
His son who showed affection in his own way.
His son who communicated differently.
His son who was learning every day.

Then Emeka realised:
Daniel’s diagnosis was part of his story, but it wasn’t the whole story.
Daniel didn’t need his father to mourn the child he had imagined.
He needed his father to see, know, and love the child he had.

So Emeka became more involved.
He attended therapy.
He learned how Daniel communicated.
He celebrated his progress.
He stopped comparing him to other children.

One evening, Daniel handed him a toy car.
“Is this for me?” Emeka asked.
Daniel smiled.
Emeka laughed.
It was a small moment, but it meant everything.
He finally understood:
I may not know what my son’s future will look like, but I can be present for him today.

To the father who is afraid:
It’s okay to worry.
It’s okay to have questions.
It’s okay not to know what the future holds.

But don’t let fear steal today’s moments.
Your child is more than a diagnosis.
More than a report.
More than a therapy plan.
See the child.
Know the child.
Love the child.
Support the child.

And keep believing in what is possible.
Then Emeka began asking a bigger question:
“What if more schools chose to understand children like Daniel?”

TO BE CONTINUED…