Kevan and Ainslee
Content Warning: These stories are about violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation and may include references to suicide or self-harming behaviours. They may contain graphic descriptions and strong language and may be distressing. Some narratives may be about First Nations people who have passed away. If you need support, please see Contact & support.
Kevan is a First Nations teenager. He is autistic and has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and anxiety.
‘He’s a lovely person,’ his mum Ainslee told the Royal Commission. ‘He’s got such a heart of gold you could do anything to him and he would still try and help you to maintain that friendship.’
Kevan did well in primary school where he had a one-on-one support teacher.
‘When he hit the high school mark and went into year 7, that’s when it all just basically disappeared.’
Ainslee said that before he started high school she met his teachers to explain what he needed.
‘They had this great plan, but they never ever followed through with it. They just basically threw him in a classroom and left him to his own devices.’
Kevan was never violent, but was often suspended.
‘He was not an abusive child, but he was one of those children that couldn’t sit still, would get extreme anxiety. He would get so upset and he’d have to run out of the classroom.’
One teacher told her the staff didn’t have time to support him.
‘She said, “We haven’t got time for children’s behaviour. We haven’t got time for children on the spectrum. We don’t have any time for that.”’
One day, Ainslee discovered that Kevan regularly hid during class.
‘They didn’t tell me for over six months that he was actually hiding under a table every time he went in the class. Now don’t you think, as a mother, I should’ve been informed about that?’
Kevan tried working at a retail store several years ago, but was bullied.
‘He’s very scared. He’s scared to make friends because of being bullied and he still gets bullied to this day.’
Ainslee said that when the NDIS started funding Kevan, no-one helped her access it or told her what the funding was for.
‘His NDIS sat there … didn’t get used because I didn’t know how to use it … Every time I tried to ring up to find out, “Can I do this? Can I do that?” “Nope you can’t use it for this. Nope you can’t use it for that.” Well what have I got it for? … Like I didn’t even know there was hours at this stage.’
Before the NDIS, the state funded a support worker for Kevan several hours a day. When the NDIA reviewed his plan and found he wasn’t using most of it, it cut funding to two hours a week. Ainslee appealed and the NDIA appointed a new support coordinator and reinstated his supports.
‘Him having a set routine so many days a week for at least four hours a day to five hours a day, that achieves a lot and gives him purpose. It gives him strength. It allows him to start learning things. It allows him to build up courage. It gives me a break from it all.’
Ainslee now worries what will happen if the NDIS cuts Kevan’s support again.
‘With autistic children and ADHD they’ve got to have this ongoing structure … If the funding goes down then he loses that stability. And that is my main concern.’
Disclaimer: This is the story of a person who shared their personal experience with the Royal Commission into Violence, Abuse, Neglect and Exploitation of People with Disability through a submission or private session. The names in this story are pseudonyms. The person who shared this experience was not a witness and their account is not evidence. They did not take an oath or affirmation before providing the story. Nothing in this story constitutes a finding of the Royal Commission. Any views expressed are those of the person who shared their experience, not of the Royal Commission.