I went to 19 schools but I was desperate to stay still

As I sat in my bedroom, distracted by long-lost belongings pulled from the back of my wardrobe, I heard my mum shouting for me to hurry up.  

It was moving day tomorrow. Again.  

There was loads to do and I couldn’t even imagine how we’d be finished in time. We were used to this, though – and I knew, ultimately, we’d get it done.  

Most of all, I felt optimistic for the fresh start.  

That was always the way. Every time we left a bad place, we did so with blind hope that this new place would be the one. This would be where we’d settle down and everything would work out.   

But before we knew it, we’d be off to a new place once again. 

I went to 19 different schools growing up. Not because I loved a challenge, but for a multitude of reasons.  

Mum’s disabled and we always rented. We’d have landlords upping the rent, contracts expiring, sudden evictions.  

We always lived in rough areas. Nowhere ever felt like home. We’d sign six-month rental agreements, then the landlord would put the rent up and we’d be back on the hunt.  

One place we lived in when I was 11 was a converted three-storey office. One night, the shower exploded on the top floor and flooded the house. I woke up at 3am to water dripping on my face.  

The landlord’s advice? ‘Just turn the water off. You’re moving soon anyway.’  

Sometimes, though, we moved for school related-reasons.  

I was diagnosed with autism at around 12, and for a long time, I didn’t want to believe it.  

My mum cried when I was diagnosed and I had to reassure her that it was okay, which felt pretty wild and definitely tainted my view of it.  

I used to try and dull myself down and would be buzzing when someone would tell me ‘you don’t seem autistic.’ I used to think it was something to be ashamed of and that wasn’t helped by the way schools treated me for being neurodivergent.  

When I started causing ‘disruption’ – chatting or getting distracted –  in my third week, it was easy for a school to just quietly show me the door. I was new to the school, they had no loyalty to me and it was more convenient to make me someone else’s problem.  

When I was 12, one school accepted me on a six-week trial. After those six weeks, they told us things were going well, so my mum moved us to the exact same street to be closer.  

Two weeks later: ‘Sorry, too disruptive, it’s not working out.’ And that was that.  

Because not all schools teach the same things at the same time, I constantly missed chunks of education, which meant I only took five GCSEs when I finally reached Year 11.

This is something I’m still sad about, because I was a bright kid.  

In my maths GCSE mock exam I got an E. I then spent the next few months doing past exam papers all day, every day. I was confident I’d do well and wanted to do the higher test paper but I wasn’t allowed, because of my low mock grade.  

On GCSE results day I found out I’d got 188 marks out of 200 in the real exam. ‘Maybe you should have taken the higher test paper after all,’ my teacher said.  

But moving houses and schools constantly didn’t only impact the academic side of things – being the new kid over and over again is brutal. It was always easy to leave the new kid out and treat them differently.  

One of the weirdest side effects of moving schools so much is that you never get closure. If I fell out with a mate, suddenly I’d be 10 miles away and our friendship would be over forever.

Equally, when I made really good friends, moving schools meant I never got to see them again. This was the early 2000s, and keeping in touch wasn’t easy.  

All of that had a long-lasting impact. I’m now 28 and I get attached to people too easily. I also struggle to take criticism and take things personally a lot – an odd trait as a comedian but surprisingly common. 

I tend to think everything’s about to go wrong because, for years, it did. If something’s going well, I brace for the fall. It’s pessimism and stress wrapped up as resilience.  

But I’m working hard to change my outlook on things and it’s something I’ve talked about a lot in therapy, which has really helped.  

Of course, moving as many times as I did isn’t common; but there’s a lot that schools today could do to help children who are new, who are neurodiverse and who have had gaps in their education.  

For a start, there needs to be more than a six-week trial. Nobody should be 12 years old and told that their future and stability will be decided on a day by day basis.  

Plus, a 2022 study by The Children’s Society found that students with special educational needs are over five times more likely to be excluded than those without. Not always for bad behaviour but, because the correct support isn’t there.  

I believe schools are trying their best. They’re victims of funding cuts and rising class numbers. But if a school accepts a student, it should be with full commitment. Emotional support, flexibility, and proper resources make all the difference – and I didn’t have any of that.  

On the plus side: if The X Factor ever comes back, this sob story has got ‘live semi finals’ written all over it. 

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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