top of page
BEN FRENCH LOGO DESIGN.png

School Refusal: Looking Beyond the Behaviour.

  • Writer: Ben French
    Ben French
  • Jul 9
  • 8 min read
  1. Looking Beyond School Refusal.        

Every year, thousands of children and young people struggle to attend school. Some gradually become more anxious as Monday morning approaches, others manage only part of the week before becoming overwhelmed, while others reach a point where attending feels impossible. Although these experiences are commonly grouped together under the term school refusal, the label itself tells us remarkably little. It describes what we can see, but says almost nothing about why it is happening.

School gates in morning light. Article about school refusal

Over the years, both in CAMHS and now in private practice, I have worked with many children who could not attend school. What struck me very early in my career was not how similar these young people were, but how different. The reasons one child found school unbearable were often entirely different from the reasons for another. Sometimes those reasons were immediately obvious, but more often they emerged only gradually, through careful listening and the development of trust. What looked like the same problem from the outside reflected very different experiences on the inside.


This is why I have become increasingly cautious about the term school refusal. It is useful as a description, but it can easily become mistaken for an explanation. Once that happens, our attention shifts towards the behaviour itself: how to improve attendance, how to reduce avoidance, how to help a child return to school. These are understandable concerns, and they matter enormously. Education is important, friendships are important, and for most children school is a vital part of healthy development. Yet before deciding how to respond, we need to ask a different question. Rather than beginning with "How do we get this child back into school?", we should first ask, "What has happened that has made school become so difficult for this particular child?"


The distinction may seem subtle, but it changes everything.


Consider someone who visits their GP complaining of a headache. The headache is important, but no doctor would assume that everyone with the same symptom requires the same treatment. A headache may arise from dehydration, poor sleep, problems with vision, migraine or something much more serious. The symptom tells us that something needs attention, but it does not tell us what that something is. The task is not simply to remove the headache. It is to understand why it has developed in the first place.


I think we sometimes forget this when thinking about children's emotional difficulties. School refusal is frequently treated as though it were the problem itself, rather than a sign that something else may require our attention. When our focus becomes the symptom alone, there is a risk that we intervene too quickly, before we have properly understood what the behaviour has come to mean for that particular child. The same intervention may be life-changing for one young person and entirely ineffective, or unhelpful, for another. Not because the intervention is inherently good or bad, but because we cannot know what will help until we understand the problem we are trying to solve.


Sometimes, of course, the problem lies primarily within the child. Anxiety, depression, trauma and other emotional difficulties can make school attendance genuinely overwhelming. At other times, however, the source of distress lies much more within the child's environment. Bullying, humiliation, repeated experiences of failure, feeling unsafe, or an educational setting that has become intolerable are not disorders residing inside the young person. They are experiences that would challenge many of us. If we respond to those situations as though they are solely evidence of a mental health problem, we risk overlooking where change is actually needed.


There is another reason this matters. Adolescence is a period in which young people are trying to answer one of the most fundamental developmental questions:


Who am I? 


If the explanation they repeatedly receive is that the problem lies within them, that they are mentally unwell, unable to cope or somehow fundamentally different, those ideas can gradually become woven into their developing sense of identity. This is not to deny the reality of mental illness, which can profoundly affect a young person's ability to attend school. Rather, it is to recognise the importance of locating difficulties accurately. A child whose distress is an understandable response to their circumstances should not have to carry the additional burden of believing that they themselves are the problem.

Schools face an extraordinarily difficult task. They are asked to educate hundreds, sometimes thousands, of children, each arriving with their own personality, developmental history, relationships, strengths and vulnerabilities. Inevitably, schools rely on routines, shared expectations and systems that work well for most pupils. Yet there is no such thing as a typical child.


Every child arrives at school with their own personality, developmental history, relationships, strengths and vulnerabilities. The same classroom, timetable and expectations can therefore be experienced in very different ways. What feels stimulating and manageable for one child may feel overwhelming for another. Recognising this is not about lowering expectations or excusing attendance difficulties. It is about acknowledging that equal treatment and appropriate treatment are not always the same thing.


2. Different Roads to the Same Destination

It's here that school refusal becomes more complicated than it appears. Children can arrive at the same behaviour by very different routes, and understanding those routes is often far more important than the behaviour itself.


Take the idea of predictability. Most of us prefer environments that feel familiar and reasonably predictable, but for some children this need becomes more significant. A child who has experienced trauma may have learned, through painful experience, that the world can change suddenly without warning. Their sense of safety has been disrupted, and their mind remains alert to the possibility that it could happen again. In those circumstances, predictability is not simply a preference; it becomes an important way of feeling safe.


Some autistic children may seek predictability for very different reasons. The school day can involve a constant process of adapting to sensory demands, navigating complex social situations, coping with changes in routine and making sense of an environment that has largely been designed around neurotypical expectations. Familiarity and routine can therefore become essential, not because the child has experienced trauma, but because they help make an otherwise overwhelming world more manageable.


Children with ADHD may encounter different challenges again. The demands of sustaining attention, managing impulses, regulating emotions or repeatedly experiencing criticism and failure can gradually alter how they come to feel about themselves and about school. What appears to others as a lack of motivation or oppositional behaviour may, for that young person, be the accumulated weight of countless experiences of feeling different, misunderstood or unable to meet expectations despite trying very hard.


The point is not that trauma, autism and ADHD are the same. They are not. Nor is it that every child who refuses school fits neatly into one of these categories. Rather, it is that the same outward behaviour may arise from very different internal experiences. Without understanding those experiences, it becomes difficult to know what kind of help is likely to be meaningful.


3. When Symptoms Become Solutions

This is one of the reasons to be cautious about approaches that begin with a standardised intervention. Schools have developed a range of strategies to support attendance, from reduced timetables and safe spaces to emotional regulation programmes and attendance plans. Many of these can be enormously helpful. The difficulty is not with the interventions themselves, but with the assumption that they can be prescribed before we have properly understood the child. An approach that transforms one young person's experience may be ineffective for another, not because it is the wrong intervention in general, but because it is the wrong intervention for that child.


In psychoanalytic psychotherapy we talk about the function of a symptom. This means asking what purpose a behaviour might be serving, even if neither the child nor the adults around them are yet aware of it. That idea has shaped much of my thinking about school refusal. Rather than seeing it as the problem, I have increasingly come to wonder whether it is often the child's best available solution to a problem that has not yet been fully understood.


That does not mean school refusal is a healthy solution, any more than a headache is a healthy experience. It can be enormously disruptive, distressing and costly for the young person and their family. Yet if it has developed because it protects the child from something that feels psychologically unbearable, simply removing it without understanding its purpose may leave the original difficulty untouched. Sometimes the child returns to school but becomes increasingly anxious, depressed or physically unwell. Sometimes another difficulty emerges in its place. This is not because symptoms are interchangeable, but because the underlying need that gave rise to the original symptom has not yet been addressed.


4. From Understanding to Action

This is where psychoanalytic psychotherapy differs from approaches that focus primarily on changing behaviour. The first task is not to ask how we can make the symptom disappear, but to become curious about why it developed in the first place. Only when we begin to understand the problem the symptom has been trying to solve can we start thinking together about what genuine and lasting change might look like.


5. The Right Question

When a child stops attending school, the focus becomes how to get them back into the classroom. Attendance matters, education matters, and few parents can watch their child withdraw from school without worrying about the consequences for their future. Yet the urgency to solve the problem can lead us to ask the wrong question.


We ask"How do we get this child back into school?", we should first ask, "What has happened that has made school become impossible for this child?"


The difference is more than a matter of wording. It is the difference between treating a symptom and trying to understand its cause.


Understanding does not delay action. It grounds it. Without it, even well-intentioned interventions risk becoming little more than educated guesses. With it, decisions become clearer, whether that means therapeutic work, changes within school, support for parents or, in some cases, recognising that a different educational environment is needed. The intervention follows the understanding, not the other way around.


This is one of the central aims of psychotherapy. It is not simply to reduce symptoms or persuade a child back into school, but to understand the meaning of those symptoms within the context of that child's life. Through that understanding, a formulation gradually develops; one that helps parents, schools and professionals move beyond generic responses towards decisions that genuinely fit the child in front of them.

There is no formula because there is no universal child.


Every child brings their own history, relationships, temperament, strengths and vulnerabilities. School refusal is simply the point at which those experiences have become visible. It is rarely the beginning of the story and almost never the whole story.


If this article has one central message, it is that school refusal should not be understood as the problem itself, but as evidence that something important requires our attention. Like any symptom, it invites curiosity before intervention and understanding before action.

Ultimately, success is not measured simply by whether a child walks back through the school gates. It is measured by whether we have understood what made walking through those gates feel impossible in the first place. Only then can we begin to offer help that is not only effective, but truly right for that child.



Written by Ben French BSc, C-Psych, C-Obs, MA Psych.Ben French is a Child and Adolescent Psychotherapist and Psychoanalyst working with children, teenagers and young adults aged 2 to 25. He has over 15 years’ experience supporting young people’s mental health, including senior roles in CAMHS and education.



















 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page