The sausage machine of schooling forbids second chances and assumes homogeneity, says one parent. Plus a letter from Denis McVey
Caro Giles' experiences of the school system mirror mine in many ways (Inside the school refusal crisis: how a mother and her daughters survived a broken system, 28 August). Our bright, eager, quirky son left school at 16 with no qualifications, despite entering year seven with a reading age of 17.
The sausage machine of education forbids second chances and assumes homogeneity. Epic bullying at school and online was remedied by our son still attending school (box ticked), but being left alone in a room for the final few months leading to his GCSEs. Even prior to that, the system of negative points and petty uniform rules led to an attitude of resigned passivity and despair.
Along with 30% of other 16-year-olds, he has failed English and maths, and joins them in the futile retake cycle until he's 18.
He is developmentally not ready for GCSE work: for the intensity, cramming and "learning for the test" that's prescribed. He was exhausted by the cruelty of the bullying, yet no allowance was made for this. Instead he was praised for turning up at school to spend the days on his own.
He asked why he was learning poems by rote, as he asked why he was learning fronted adverbials in year six. Even reading has now been targeted, with the introduction of Sparx Reader in addition to Sparx Maths. For my younger son, I have taken over the Sparx Reader, and my lifelong love of literature was tested to its limit to earn enough points to stave off a detention.
Teachers are anxious, and the atmosphere and culture at school is one of fear. Fear and then relief that "my child hasn't failed". Our outmoded education system feels viscerally wrong and utterly joyless, and Caro's children know it. We need a rethink. I have been radicalised by my son's experiences - quite how we proceed to effect change is yet to be determined.
Name and address supplied
Your article highlights the distress faced by many young people, yet it does not go far enough in questioning the assumptions underpinning our schooling system. As a consultant nurse and psychotherapist who has worked extensively in both schools and prisons and mental health services, I cannot ignore the institutional similarities: rigid timetables, enforced conformity and the pervasive use of shame as a behavioural tool. Some individuals adapt, even thrive, in such environments, but for many others the experience is terrifying, alienating and psychologically damaging. Their difficulties are too often pathologised, when in reality the issue lies in the system itself.
Families who choose home education often face stigma, as though the decision signals deficiency in the child. This reflects a narrow view of learning that fails to account for individual differences. The familiar defence of school as a place for "social interaction" is unconvincing; by that logic, prisoners should emerge from long sentences with exceptional interpersonal skills, which is rarely the case.
The rise in school refusal should not be seen as a crisis of children's resilience but as a warning sign that our educational model requires urgent reform. A hybrid approach - part-time attendance combined with home-based learning, supported by technology - would reduce pressure, foster autonomy and provide a healthier balance between structure and freedom.
Denis McVey
Oundle, Northamptonshire