The day I danced and sang at school

Devon Roke, pictured with mum Tracey, was turned away by four preschools before one accepted him. Photo / Brett Phibbs

Little Devon Roke was turned down by three early childhood education centres before BestStart's ABC Waterview agreed to enrol him.

The three centres had their stated reasons — but the real reason was that Devon has cerebral palsy.

The three centres should be named and shamed. Their state funding should be cut.

These centres take taxpayers' money declaring they won't discriminate but then do. They do so in the cruellest way imaginable by turning away a beautiful little boy. They are a disgrace.

The ABC Waterviews of this world are wonderful but their welcoming of special needs students sees them swamped while their neighbouring centres refuse them.

But then not so long ago I was no different. It fell to me once to be Associate Minister of Education with responsibility for Special Education.

I didn't want the job. I hadn't sought it. And truthfully my heart sank.

All I could imagine was these little mites in desperate need with never enough money to provide for them all.

My prejudice could not have been worse.

I had many wonderful experiences in politics but the greatest was my all-too-brief spell as Minister Responsible for Special Education.

I visited my first special school not knowing what to expect and was immediately swept up in a class where I had never before seen so much learning and sheer joy and such committed and loving teachers.

I couldn't tear myself away and found myself cavorting on the floor, dancing and singing with the students, totally uncaring what I looked or sounded like or that I was supposed to be the minister, not a child at school.

I was hooked.

It consumed me.

It was wonderful.

I saw children learning more than I ever believed possible. I saw children put in more effort than I had ever before seen. I walked beside a boy as he dragged himself to class from the playground and then up into his chair.

And I saw the look of achievement and happiness on his face.

He could not have been prouder if he had just conquered Everest.

In another primary school, I saw children looking after their cerebral palsy mate in a wheelchair and playing football with him. I don't know who among them was enjoying it the most.

And everywhere the teachers were the most wonderful I could imagine.

I did my best to make the students' lives better, but instead it was they who made such a difference to mine.

I still get texts from some and some still remember my birthday.

I feel sorry for the students of the three centres who turned Devon away. He would have made such a difference to their lives. And now they are going to miss out. That's sad and it's wrong.