Last week I was in Amsterdam, for a two-day meeting with a group of colleagues from the Netherlands, Belgium, Iceland and the UK, discussing a possible research project on fathers and their disabled children. The participants included some key figures in European disability studies and inclusive education, some parents of disabled children – and some people who were both. Disability studies is an area in which I don’t have any particular expertise, but I was invited because of my research interests in fatherhood and identity.
We were exploring the possibility of using video as a means of encouraging fathers to talk about their relationships with their disabled children – and in this context disability was defined quite broadly, to include intellectual and developmental as well as physical disabilities. During the course of the meeting, some colleagues who were also parents shared videos of their own children with us, an experience I found thought-provoking, inspiring and often profoundly moving. As a newcomer to the field, I felt that I learned a great deal, both personally and professionally, from this experience and from the discussions that followed. Most of all, it was a pleasure and a privilege to spend two days working with, and getting to know, such a thoughtful, committed and basically nice bunch of people who, despite the challenges that some of them face on a daily basis, were also great fun to be with.
With Myria Pieridou, Alice Schippers, Geert Van Hove, Jonty Rix, Hjortur Jonsson and Dora Bjarnason at Dauphine Restaurant, Amsterdam. Two other Icelandic colleagues – Kristin Bjornsdottir and Hermina Gunnthorsdottir – joined our discussions via Skype.
Thinking about the specific issues surrounding fathering a disabled child helped to deepen my understanding of fathering more generally – and contributed to the thinking I’m doing about my book (still in the very early stages) about men, masculinity and the care of children. I found myself wanting to know more about the ways in which a father’s response to the birth of, and his later relationship with a disabled child differs (if at all) from that of the child’s mother. And does the gender of the child make a difference to the kind of relationship that a father develops with him or her? To what extent do teachers and other professionals treat the fathers of disabled children differently to the way they treat mothers? Finally, how can increasing our understanding of the role of fathers help to improve the ways that professionals interact with disabled children and their families? I’m hoping that our planned research project might go some way to answering these questions, and I’m looking forward to working with this international group of colleagues on the next stages.
My visit to Amsterdam was slightly overshadowed by the way it ended. My flight home was cancelled at the very last minute (I was actually waiting in the departure lounge), which meant that I had to spend an extra night in Amsterdam. To top it all, I’d been feeling a bit off colour and that, together with the stress caused by the cancellation, led to me fainting and cutting my head (though not badly). The colleagues I was with were fantastic, checking I was OK, helping me to re-book my flight, and finding me a hotel room for the night. Thank you, Jonty and Myria. And thanks to my Icelandic colleagues, Dora and Hjortur, who were still around and made sure I got safely on my way the next day.
Martin Robb 