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Randall and Chanelle

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.

Chanelle’s teenage son, Randall, has vision impairment and epilepsy.

‘He requires support to converse with people and to sort of carry the convo along … you know a happy boy,’ Chanelle told the Royal Commission. ‘Part of our household, his jobs are putting the wheelie bins out, emptying the dishwasher, making us coffee.’

Chanelle enrolled Randall in the local mainstream primary school.

‘He was suspended maybe three times from memory in primary school, but that soon stopped when I said that that’s kind of not on …  We had a few different principals come and go, but the head of special ed was a constant and she pretty much gets what inclusion is and what it should be.’

Chanelle said she didn’t want ‘something special’ for Randall.

‘We want the same for our child as every other child and for them to be supported to do that. So if the class is doing maths, our child is doing maths in whatever way [looks] the same as everyone else, but it’s adjusted to them.’

When Randall started high school, Chanelle wanted him to continue his inclusive education and enrolled him in the local mainstream school.

Chanelle said the school’s idea of inclusion was a special education block where he spent much of his time.

‘That was my first indicator that we’re not on the same page … [the principal] said, “Well you think inclusion is one thing, I think it’s one thing, and the department thinks it’s another thing.”’

Chanelle said Randall went to the classroom for only the last 10 minutes of each lesson. Teachers were instructed to separate him from his peers on school trips as part of a written ‘risk assessment’.

He’s also forced to use a ramp, which he doesn’t need, and kept away from objects that he might throw at others – ‘which he has never done’.

Chanelle said she had ‘meeting after meeting’ with the school asking for information about his day so she could help the teachers manage his behaviour.

When she eventually pulled him out of school she asked for his report card. It was more than 400 pages long.

‘It’s a rap sheet … words like “misconduct involving object”, “other conduct prejudicial to the good order and management of school”, “physical misconduct”, “defiant threats to adults”, “disruptive” … That’s just some of them. They’re the most common ones. And “motivation” is “don't know” and “parent contact” is “No.”’

She said some of Randall’s behaviour suggested to her that he simply needed to go to the toilet.

One day Chanelle picked Randall up from school. She found him ‘sobbing uncontrollably and no-one could say why’.

‘We sort of thought really long and hard about, “Can we manage this?” as a family … So in the end [we decided] just no. Ran out of energy.’

Chanelle decided to homeschool Randall.

‘I’ve found that if you try and do anything that looks like school, it’s a shut down. He gets visibly upset …  Everyone’s sort of calmed down [now] and, yeah, it’s just a really nice way of life for us. We’re lucky that we can do it.’

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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.