I came across some news which I think is quite astonishing last night. On my old school’s Facebook page, I saw that Chris Hickson was retiring. That was a name I hadn’t heard in a long, long time: Mrs Hickson is – or was – the Speech and Language Therapist at Hebden Green. One of my very earliest memories is of her coming to the nursery department of school to take me to her office for our weekly sessions. I must only have been four or five at the time; the sessions were one-to-one, as I was the only kid in my class who needed speech therapy.

My weekly meetings with Mrs. Hickson continued throughout my time at school. If memory serves, they were often basically just chats, where she would just encourage me to speak. This was long before I got my first communication aid, so it was obviously important to get me to talk as clearly as possible. We used to talk about absolutely anything, especially my favourite books at the time. Obviously, Mrs H would then structure exercises for me around those subjects, but I remember sessions with her being fun and engaging.

Once, getting into her office, I threw my school bag onto the floor before sitting down. I was at the age when throwing things around seemed like a fun thing to do. I remember Mrs. Hickson looking quite aghast at me: “Matthew,” She said, “What if that bag contained a communication aid? It wouldn’t be a good idea to throw it around like that if it did.” At the time I didn’t feel very concerned, but I can see now that it was the beginning of something which would become far more significant for me.

Indeed, it was with Mrs. Hickson’s help that I was given my first Lightwriter. It was a relatively primitive device, compared to the communication aids we’re using now, but it completely revolutionised my life. I was suddenly able to talk to anyone and everyone I wanted, not just people who knew me well enough to understand my speech. The first morning I got one, I remember going up to shop keepers in Macclesfield and asking them for all kinds of bizarre things. It was like a whole new world had opened up.

Obviously, it was only because I had this new ability that I could do all kinds of things which would have been difficult previously, like going to the comprehensive school next to Hebden for GCSE english classes. That then lead to me going to college, then university, and eventually moving down to London. That would simply not have been possible had I not had a communication aid: talking to anyone like Esther, Charlotte, John, or the guys over in Tesco, would have been off limits. These days I use my communication aid daily; it is essential to me. The last twenty years of my life could not have happened had I not had the ability to communicate with other people efficiently.

All that is ultimately thanks to Mrs. Hickson and her foresight. I am thus highly indebted to her. No doubt she has helped countless other young people in similar ways. Frankly, given that I left school over twenty years ago, finding out that she is only just retiring yesterday struck me as astonishing. Indeed, Mrs. Hickson had been working at Hebden since the seventies: her legacy must surely be incredible. In many ways, it is because of her that I lead the life I now do, trundling around South-East London, talking to all kinds of people; going into shops and asking for all kinds of things. I therefore wish Mrs Hickson the happiest of retirements. Most of all, I’ll always have fond memories of our weekly speech therapy sessions back at school.