I want to live by my principles – but can I really send my autistic son to a mainstream school in an age of austerity cuts?

You can bet I’m going to protect my son, no matter what happens. And if that means betraying an ideology I once held dear, I’m just going to have to suck it up

Sesame Street’s newest character Julia (right) has autism and was created with diversity and inclusion in mind (AP)

Principles, eh? Most of us have them. Some of us try to do our best to live by them. Then we have children and suddenly we’re blushing red-faced as we stand outside the headteacher’s office awaiting an unpleasant conversation.

I’ve been an advocate for inclusion ever since a close encounter with a cement truck (it knocked me off my bike and ran me over) came with the fringe benefit (I suppose) of providing me with a degree-level education on the cause of disability rights.

That cause is set back by a lack of inclusion and visibility; by the absence of disabled people in politics, in the media, in the wider workplace, and in education.

While serving as a link governor for special educational needs at my kids’ school, I sought to do my bit towards turning the tide.

My commitment was informed by the idea that it is good for schools, for children and for society to have those with disabilities learning alongside their peers wherever that is possible, and that their needs should be met to allow that to happen.

But at the same time my son, who is on the autism spectrum, has been getting older.

It will soon be time for him to leave what is a relatively small school – one notable for trying to provide a nurturing environment for its students, and where all the teachers are mostly aware of his issues – for a much larger high school where that will not be the case.

The transition from primary to secondary education is a stressful enough process for any parent. When your child is a vulnerable one? Believe me, sleepless nights are just the start of it.

Then my wife raised the subject of a school she had heard of that specialises in high-functioning autism; in other words, a school geared towards those (like my son) who used to be, and sometimes still are, described as having “Asperger syndrome”.

My first thought: “Wow. Maybe there is a God after all. Maybe this could be a place where he could flourish and fulfil his very obvious potential.”

And then I realised a trip to the headteacher’s office at Principles School might be in order.

Of course it’s early days. Perhaps, as we tour the local schools, we will find somewhere that all three of us feels is right.

Perhaps that will be a mainstream school and perhaps we’ll be lucky enough to secure a place, after which I’ll be able to feel smug while hoping people don’t Google this piece.

However, I’m prepared to say right now that we will do the best for our son. That will trump everything, including principles.

I was talking about the issue this week with people from Disability Rights UK, an organisation I have a lot of time for.

The chief executive, Kamran Malik, asked what I thought would be required to make the option of a specialist school unnecessary. The answer? Training and resources.

Both of those commodities are in increasingly short supply.

School budgets are under pressure. The government is still wedded to austerity, and its mad hard Brexit is inevitably going to make the economic, and thus the school funding, situation worse.

What resources are available are already having to be concentrated on those who are in the box that says “assistance must be provided”.

The cruel result? Those not in that category, but who still have needs, aren’t receiving the help they often used to get. Their numbers are also increasing because criteria are being tightened with the aim of excluding more children so as to make the numbers add up.

The educations, the mental health and the general wellbeing of those children is suffering as a result.

This is the reality facing parents like us up and down the country.

People with my son’s conditions have gone on to do great things. They’ve become tech moguls (many of the most famous ones are said to have autistic traits). They’ve created video games. They’ve become movie stars like Sir Anthony Hopkins and TV stars, like the BBC’s Chris Packham.

You bet I’m going to do my damnedest to ensure my son can join them, even if it means engaging in a bare-knuckle brawl, even if it means potentially compromising on a principle that I still regard as important.

What parent wouldn’t?