Lucas started showing signs of autism around age eight, and things began to unravel. He would hide under desks or withdraw completely — clear signs he was struggling. But instead of recognising this as a neuro-developmental need, his primary school accused me of bad parenting. Behind my back, they even called social services.
When the social workers arrived, confused, they asked, “Why are we here?” I told them to speak to the school. I also made a formal complaint. Sadly, what happened to me happens to many parents — character assassination becomes an excuse when schools don’t understand autism.
Despite receiving a diagnosis and an EHCP, things didn’t improve. Lucas moved on to a local state secondary school with decent support on paper. But the scale and sensory intensity of mainstream school overwhelmed him. He began absconding, and we were told that this behaviour meant he would be excluded.
Incredibly, the headteacher quietly advised me that an exclusion might be our only way forward because, legally, if a child with an EHCP is excluded, the local authority (LEA) must provide alternative education that meets their needs. Lucas was 14.
He spent six months out of education while I fought to secure a suitable placement. Twice the LEA turned down the provision we found, even though he had the legal right to it.
That was just the beginning.