Toby Morrison says his dreams of academic success and a career as a welfare worker were thwarted at school by teachers who saw only his disabilities. They were misguided, says the 19-year-old, now an occupational therapy undergraduate at Coventry University. “Their comments made me all the more determined to succeed – but didn’t make it any easier.”
The odds were certainly stacked against Morrison. Born with bleeding on the brain and hydrocephalus, he suffers lifelong problems including cerebral palsy, weakness on his right side, tunnel vision and partial epilepsy. His family gave all the support they could. But pursuing his ambitions in the wider world, he says, “was like doing the 100 metres with your shoelaces undone”.
Then everything changed. As a BTec national diploma student, he was on work experience at the charity Action for Kids when he was introduced to staff from Skill: National Bureau for Students with Disabilities. “They told me: ‘forget you have a disability, don’t let it get in the way of what you want, do the best you can’.”
The personal attention and appreciation of his aspirations this charity gave him were just what he needed. “It has given me the biggest boost of confidence,” says the young man, who soon became a youth ambassador for the Skill Volunteer Voices programme, visiting schools and colleges to encourage other disabled students.
So he was appalled to learn that Skill had run out of cash and was closing. In the fragmented world of charitable support for the disabled, Morrison is pessimistic that the well-focused campaigning and policy work of Skill will be taken up by others. It is a concern shared by many leading organisations in FE, some of which have had to take tough cost-cutting action for survival and have little flexibility left.
Relatively generous funding and support from business, colleges and other agencies, plus contracts for research and development, helped to sustain Skill for 40 years, and to fund a helpline for the disabled and a strong policy team with influence on government decision-making. But, says Peter Little, chair of the board and a trustee for 20 years, given the economic crisis, “the general fundraising climate grew difficult. We took a hit last year and were not able to replace those funding streams no longer available”.
On 7 June, the trustees and 500 active members of Skill will gather for the formal closure meeting. “We are in discussion with BIS [Department for Business, Innovation and Skills] to see where they can support others taking on the services,” says Little.
The skills minister, John Hayes, has expressed dismay at the closure and says: “The government remains committed to ensuring the needs of disabled students are met and we are in discussions with other organisations in the sector about taking this work forward.”
Skill is no ordinary charity, says Yola Jacobsen, programme manager for the National Institute for Adult Continuing Education, which itself recently had to make huge reductions. “It is a vital information and support service that has campaigned successfully for disabled people on so many fronts – promoting equality in education, training and employment. It has given people the power of self-management and the ability to participate.”
Its demise could not come at a worse time, she says, given the need for close scrutiny of new public duty regulations arising from the Equality Act and the special education and disability green paper, now before parliament.
But there are even deeper concerns for the future rights of disabled people, says Jacobsen. Skill tackles a big long-term problem facing disabled people – the disproportionately high numbers kept out of work and in poverty by the high costs of skills training. “It is not about intelligence and ability, but access and financial support.”
A powerful example of Skill’s effectiveness is its helpline. Over 50% of inquiries are about finance for learning, and it acts as an early warning alarm when systems fail. For example, when the Student Loans Company failed to make payments on time last year, Skill could identify 12,500 disabled students in England waiting for grants to pay for specialist equipment.
The small intelligence team sustained by Skill has been an essential service for FE organisations, working through the mire of legislation and regulations. “It was the only organisation in that niche and served a key role,” says Jacobsen. “I get many inquiries on technical issues and would confidently refer people to their free helpline. Who now will offer support for disabled students?”
Her biggest fear is the impact on student access of the 25% cut in college budgets – the sort of issue on which Skill was sharp-eyed, she says. “Colleges have to run as businesses and make the sums work. People who need extra support will lose out big time.”
College leaders agree there is a need for vigilance to alert ministers and funding agencies to any difficulties. Debbie Ribchester, a senior policy manager at the Association of Colleges, says: “We have concerns about the complexity of the system for people with disabilities and the SEN and disability green paper is seeking to address many of these issues.”
With Skill’s closure, other agencies such as the Institute for Learning and the Disability Alliance are looking to take on some of the work. But Toby Morrison fears it will “completely vanish. Maybe there will be pockets of support, but I don’t think any organisation could match the amazing level of work Skill did. It’s hard to comprehend how much they have done – for millions of people across the country”.
