MARION SAUVEBOIS meets an amazing schoolgirl who is using a love of music to literally help find her voice again and overcome the condition selective mutism, a rare anxiety disorder

FOUR years ago a classmate grabbed hold of Phoenix Tilling and shoved her headfirst into a sandpit.

Bruised and badly shaken by the bully's rough and unprovoked attack, little girl shut down, retreating into silence. It would be nearly three years before she could utter a single word in public again.

“She was just six,” her mother Andrea recalls with difficulty. “She came home and her face was smashed, her eye socket and nose were bruised and bleeding. She didn’t tell us exactly what happened but we found out from a third party. Until it happened and she was bullied she communicated fine with everyone. But after she suffered this trauma she just stopped speaking at school, to people she didn’t know or in social situations. She would be fine at home, talk a lot as usual but if someone even just said hello to her on the street she just couldn’t answer them.”

In the aftermath of the attack, Andrea put her once outgoing child’s apparent reluctance to speak in public down to shock. It would pass, she reassured herself. But far from easing with time, her reserve and nervousness only worsened. She refused, or so it seemed, to engage with other pupils at her new school or participate in class, shut up in silence.

“I think for quite a while I said to her, ‘Come on speak up, you can do it’. We didn’t think it was going to last. It was just short-term because of the trauma, that she was withdrawing,” adds the 38-year-old from Park South.

It was not unwillingness to interact, she explains. It soon became clear Phoenix was physically unable to talk. Try as she might, outside the comfort of her own home and her close family circle, the words simply would not come out.

In the wake of the severe medical issues which befell her daughter following the incident, her mutism, Andrea admits, was the least of the family’s problems. Four days after she was slammed into the sandbox, Phoenix had a seizure. She has suffered from epileptic fits ever since.

“This sparked a lot of problems,” continues the mother-of-three. “The first time it happened was the first day at her new school. She just dropped without warning walking into the school. So we focused more on that. It took four years to get the epilepsy under control, but she’s done really well with it.”

After more than a year of endless worry as her daughter withdrew further into herself, Phoenix was referred to a specialist and diagnosed at long last with selective mutism - a severe anxiety disorder affecting 1 in 140 children which prevents them from speaking in social situations or in public. The expectation to talk to certain people, Andrea was told, triggered a freeze response making it impossible for her child to utter the words she so desperately wanted to get out.

“It’s not that she didn’t want to speak,” she says, holding back tears. “It was just her voice box closing up and she wasn’t actually able to speak.”

Phoenix’s anxiety is still to this day mistaken for sulkiness, rudeness or indifference, she adds, frustration palpable in her voice.

Meanwhile, a teaching assistant at her new school set out to bring her out of her shell by playing her songs on the ukulele, and encouraging her to relax and let go. Little did anyone know then that this would be the first decisive step to ‘unlocking her voice’.

Amazed at her daughter’s progress through music, when Andrea spotted a notice in the Adver for a Frozen workshop at Everybody Sing in Old Town last winter, she signed her up. The two-day intensive course ended in a small performance. While she stood timidly in the back row, mouthing the words, it was the first time in three years the ten-year-old had dared to join in a wholeheartedly into a group activity and face her gnawing fear of crowds.

“It was lovely to see her in an environment that was inclusive, where she could just be herself. There was no pressure for her to sing. She could do as much as she wanted.”

She enrolled in classes and steadily, thanks to the support of teacher Sophie Haynes, found her voice – on stage. Their first class together was a one-on-one Abba workshop, one of Phoenix’s favourite bands.

“It felt like a turning point,” enthuses Andrea. “It came to the point where I think we didn’t know if we would see her like that outside the house again. It was very emotional to see her up there. It’s something she did on her own and she was comfortable. She was singing like nobody was watching.”

From the slender girl cowering in the background miming the words, in just a little over 12 months, she has grown into a keen performer with a powerful instrument, pulling her weight in every one of Everybody Sing.

“Music is an amazing therapy,” beams Andrea. “She is so bottled up in normal social situations but when she sings I get my daughter back. The first show she did she was in the back to the side of the stage but they did Matilda and she was in the middle. You could actually hear her. People got to see a bit of the Phoenix that we know. She is still a bit reserved but she is progressing so much.”

Keen to nurture her nascent gift, Everybody Sing director Kerry Richings along with school patron Maureen Nolan surprised Phoenix in front of a packed auditorium last month with a six-month scholarship. The moment her little girl was singled out for an award was charged with emotion, confides Andrea.

“I was so proud of her. When Maureen Nolan called her name she didn’t hesitate, she went straight up to her. She didn’t have to think about it.

“Phoenix is so cheeky and lively when she’s with us. She thrives on people with a sense of humour, she laughs and giggles all the time – it’s a coping mechanism for her. I just want people to see her the way we get to see her. The problem with being diagnosed with something like this is that people don’t think about the person behind it. They are not just their condition. They are an individual and with the right help they can grow and overcome it and Everybody Sing knew that.”

The young performer is now preparing for her Grade 1 exam in musical theatre.

Phoenix still has some way to go to overcome her trust issues and eventually override the reflex which chokes her up each time she attempts to speak to a stranger or interact with vague acquaintances. Yet, she manages polite yesses and nos, delivered with a warm grin as her mother calls to her to answer some questions, volunteer a date or simply asks her assent to delve deeper into the details of the attack which sparked her condition. Such openness and relative ease would have been unthinkable just a few months ago.

“She is improving with time,” says Andrea, as her daughters chase one another happily in the foyer of Everybody Sing. “It’s about working on getting that trust again. Moving past what happened. I don’t want her to be treated any differently because she doesn’t speak. She is the same as everyone else. I know she will grow in confidence and start speaking again to everyone soon.”

Everybody Sing offers singing classes to all ages. The school runs sessions for singers of all abilities including people with learning difficulties and special needs, or such conditions as dementia.

For more details email info@everybodysing.co.uk or visit www.everybodysing.co.uk.