I’m seriously starting to hate the T word. Trans-fucking-ition. Professionals (teachers, social workers, clinicians) drip it into conversations with big nods and concerned faces.

“We need to talk about transition,” they say, before disappearing out the door.
“How old is LB now? Mmmm… nearly in transition then.”
“I’ll make an appointment around seven months before his 18th birthday, so we can really start to discuss transition. But you should be thinking about it now.”

OK. I’m thinking. Think think thinkety think.  Er. I’m struggling a bit here. What am I actually supposed to be thinking about?

“Oh, yes, there are all sorts of options we can discuss when he’s in transition.”

Ok.  WHAT ARE THEY? Ah, he’s not quite “in transition” yet so no actual details.

At LB’s annual review in 2010, a transition social worker and Connexion’s person appeared. We never saw a sniff of either them afterwards. This year no one came (even the headteacher was off sick) but at least there was no fakeness and performance.

Transition for me is another word that is pretty meaningless. Life is a transition. We all grow, change, move. Why is LB in transition at 17 years and 5 months and how long does being in transition last?

Well I may be a bit cynical but what I’m hearing is that there aren’t many choices. LB’s life after school is going to be severely constrained by the lack of funding allocated to enable and support learning disabled adults to lead happy and fulfilled lives.  But hey if we all focus on ‘transition’ we can sort of ignore that for now.