It's Not School Refusal. It's School Can't.

We need to talk about school refusal.

Actually, no. We need to talk about why the term *school refusal* is part of the problem.

Because “refusal” sounds like choice. It sounds like a child standing at the front door, arms crossed, deciding they simply do not feel like going to school today. It sounds like defiance. It sounds like laziness. It sounds like poor parenting. It sounds like something that can be fixed with firmer boundaries, a reward chart, a lecture about resilience, or a threat about consequences.

But for many children and young people, this is not refusal.

It is not “I won’t.”

It is “I can’t.”

And when we get the language wrong, we often get the response wrong too.

School Can’t describes a child or young person who is unable to attend school because their nervous system, mental health, disability, trauma history, sensory needs, social environment, learning needs or emotional safety have reached breaking point. They are not choosing comfort over responsibility. They are often experiencing intense distress, panic, shutdown, burnout, overwhelm, physical symptoms, fear or despair.

Be You, Australia’s national mental health in education initiative, notes there is no agreed definition of school refusal and that terms such as school avoidance, school phobia, School Can’t and attendance anxiety are also used. Importantly, Be You distinguishes school refusal from truancy, explaining that it is linked to worry, anxiety or emotional distress about going to school.

The Australian Parliament’s 2023 Senate inquiry into school refusal heard the same thing. It found that most descriptions of school refusal centre on a young person’s inability to attend school because of a severe negative emotional reaction to school. The inquiry also recorded that many families and advocates prefer terms like School Can’t, school phobia, school avoidance or emotionally based school avoidance.

That distinction matters.

A truant child is generally hiding their absence from adults. A child experiencing School Can’t is often at home with parents who are desperately trying to get them there. The Parliamentary Library describes school refusal as involving significant emotional distress, severe upset, somatic symptoms like headaches or stomach aches, sleep disturbance, parental awareness and parental attempts to secure attendance. It is not the same as wagging. It is not simply “bad behaviour.”

And yet too often, families are treated as though they are the problem.

Parents are told to be firmer. Children are told to try harder. Schools send attendance letters. Systems talk about compliance. But if a child’s body is going into fight, flight, freeze or shutdown every morning, a compliance-first response can pour petrol on the fire.

We need to stop asking, “How do we make this child attend?”

We need to start asking, “What is making school feel impossible?”

Because the data tells us this is not a fringe issue. ACARA reported that in 2025, the national attendance rate for students in Years 1–10 was 88.8%, and only 62.1% of students had attendance at or above 90%. That is still well below pre-COVID levels; in 2019, the national attendance rate was 91.4% and the attendance level was 73.1%. ACARA also notes attendance is lower for students from Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander backgrounds and varies by socio-educational advantage and remoteness.

Behind those numbers are children.

Children who are anxious.

Children who are neurodivergent.

Children who are bullied.

Children who are burnt out from masking.

Children who are trying to learn in classrooms that overwhelm their sensory systems.

Children who are carrying trauma.

Children whose learning needs have gone unmet for years.

Children who are exhausted from being misunderstood.

Queensland Education’s own “Anxiety about going to school” resource acknowledges that children can feel anxious about school for many reasons, including separation anxiety, bullying, friendship conflict, feeling lost at school, fear of getting into trouble, learning difficulties, not getting along with a teacher, transition stress, fear of failure, and worries about family safety. It also lists symptoms such as nausea, shortness of breath, headaches, crying, clinginess, fidgeting and sleep problems.

That list is important because it shows what many parents already know: School Can’t is often not an attendance problem first.

It is a distress problem.

A safety problem.

A belonging problem.

A disability support problem.

A mental health problem.

A systems problem.

And yes, attendance matters. Of course it does. Queensland Education’s Every Day Counts material states that higher attendance is associated, on average, with higher student achievement, and its attendance messaging reminds families that missing one day a fortnight adds up to more than a year of learning over 12 years.

But this is where we need nuance. Attendance matters. But forced attendance without safety does not create learning.

A child sitting in a classroom while terrified, dysregulated, humiliated, overloaded or dissociated is not meaningfully accessing education. A child who spends the day in survival mode is not thriving. They are enduring.

We cannot punish children into feeling safe.

We cannot threaten families into healing trauma.

We cannot sticker-chart a nervous system out of panic.

The mental health data should make every school leader pause. AIHW reported that in 2013–14, one in five young people aged 11–17 had high or very high psychological distress, and around 14% of young people aged 12–17 experienced a mental disorder in the previous 12 months. Anxiety and ADHD were among the most common disorders for 12–17-year-olds.

Mission Australia’s 2024 Youth Survey found that 22% of young people aged 15–19 reported high psychological distress, and some young people identified mental health challenges, motivation and confidence as barriers to education and employment goals. In 2025, Mission Australia reported that 39% of young people experienced stress related to mental health and wellbeing, and nearly one in five reported high psychological distress in the weeks before the survey.

This is not children being dramatic. This is a generation telling us they are struggling.

The Black Dog Institute’s submission to the Senate inquiry stated that emotional health problems such as anxiety, somatic complaints and depression were the strongest predictors of school absences the following school year. It also stated that children with anxiety disorders missed more than twice the number of school days than other children, and that a child with generalised anxiety disorder was absent on average three weeks of school per year.

So when a child cannot get through the school gate, we need to resist the urge to jump straight to blame.

We need assessment before assumption.

Is the child being bullied?

Are they masking autism all day and collapsing at home?

Is the classroom too loud, too bright, too unpredictable?

Are they experiencing panic attacks?

Are they avoiding a teacher who shames them?

Are they unable to complete work because of an undiagnosed learning difficulty?

Are they terrified of getting in trouble?

Are they socially isolated?

Are they dealing with racism, ableism, homophobia, family stress, grief, illness or trauma?

Are they being suspended, excluded or informally pushed out?

Are they safe?

Because if we do not ask those questions, we risk treating the symptom while ignoring the wound.

The Senate inquiry heard that school refusal is most prevalent among students with disability, particularly neurodivergent students, and those with mental health challenges. It cited research suggesting that among autistic students, school refusal accounted for 43% of absences.

This should not surprise anyone listening to neurodivergent families.

Many neurodivergent children spend the school day surviving environments that were not built for their brains or bodies. They are expected to sit still, cope with noise, tolerate fluorescent lights, interpret social rules, manage transitions, produce work on demand, regulate emotions, respond to verbal instructions, and appear “fine” while doing it.

Then adults are shocked when they eventually cannot do it anymore. What looks sudden to a school may have been building for months or years. School Can’t is often the end point of repeated unmet need.

So what should we do instead?

First, change the language. Words shape practice. “Refusal” positions the child as oppositional. “School Can’t” invites curiosity. It asks adults to look beneath behaviour and find the barrier.

Second, stop using attendance letters as the first meaningful response. Legal obligations exist, and Queensland’s attendance procedure makes clear that parents have obligations to ensure school attendance unless there is a reasonable excuse. But legal pressure alone does not solve panic, trauma, disability, bullying or burnout. It often increases family shame and child distress.

Third, build a team around the child. Parents, carers, teachers, leadership, guidance officers, psychologists, GPs, paediatricians, occupational therapists, speech pathologists, youth workers and cultural supports may all have a role. Queensland Education states that guidance officers can support students with educational, behavioural, personal, social, family and mental health and wellbeing issues, including prevention and early intervention for mild to moderate mental health concerns.

Fourth, make the return flexible and safe. A full-time return should not always be the first goal. For some children, success may start with driving past the school, walking through a side gate, sitting in the library for 20 minutes, attending one preferred subject, meeting one safe adult, or completing learning from home while connection is rebuilt.

Fifth, make adjustments real. Not “we’ll keep an eye on them.” Not “they can ask for help if they need it.” Real adjustments. A quiet entry point. Reduced timetable. Sensory breaks. Predictable routines. A safe person. Modified workload. Social support. Explicit transition planning. Assessment flexibility. Neuroaffirming practice. Bullying intervention. A plan for what happens when the child is overwhelmed.

Sixth, stop confusing short-term comfort with long-term avoidance. Yes, children need support to re-engage. But forcing a child into an unsafe environment does not build resilience. Resilience grows when children are supported to do hard things with safety, dignity, connection and appropriate scaffolding.

Finally, listen to families.

Most parents of children experiencing School Can’t are not sitting at home casually allowing absence. They are living through morning battles that break hearts. They are managing panic attacks, shutdowns, tears, vomiting, meltdowns, depression, self-harm risk, sibling impacts, work consequences, judgement and exhaustion. Many are also trying to navigate systems that blame them before helping them.

We need to stop acting as though these families need a lecture.

They need partnership.

School attendance matters because education matters. But education is not just a building. Education is access. Safety. Belonging. Relationships. Adjustments. Mental health. Culture. Trust. A child cannot learn from a place of terror. So yes, let’s care about attendance. But let’s care about the child more.

Let’s stop asking, “Why are they refusing?” Let’s ask, “What are they unable to manage right now, and what do we need to change so school becomes possible again?” Because for many children, it was never school refusal.

It was School Can’t. And when adults finally understand that, we can stop punishing the distress and start building the bridge back.