Stop Burying Your Head in the Sand: Let’s Talk About School Safety

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the way we talk about children who are struggling at school. Because there’s something a little strange about it.

To put it plainly, if your workplace is toxic and making you miserable, people will tell you to find another job.

If you’re in an abusive relationship, nobody sensible tells you to stay because it’ll build resilience.

People move house to get away from nightmare neighbours. They change sporting clubs because the culture’s awful. Adults leave friendship groups and workplaces that are making them unhappy. Some people will even cut off a family member because they’ve been hurt or offended one too many times.

We’re actually pretty comfortable with adults saying, “This environment isn’t good for me anymore, so I’m leaving.”

Then a child comes home from school crying every day, can’t sleep on Sunday night, has a stomach ache every morning, is being bullied or excluded, and is slowly becoming a shell of the kid they used to be...

And somehow the conversation changes.

“They need resilience.”

“They can’t run away from difficult people forever.”

“School prepares them for the real world.”

“But I went to school and I loved it.”

I’m sorry, but I think we need to think a little harder about that.

Because sometimes resilience means sticking something out.

And sometimes resilience means recognising that an environment is hurting you and having the courage to leave it.

Also, you didn’t go to school today.

You went twenty or thirty years ago.

You probably came home, dumped your school bag at the door, ate half the pantry and watched whatever happened to be on TV at 4pm. If someone was horrible to you at school, there was at least a reasonable chance you could go home and get away from them.

Our kids can’t necessarily do that.

The bully can come home in their pocket.

They’re in the group chat. They’re sending screenshots. They’re commenting on photos. Something humiliating can happen at lunchtime, be filmed and be doing the rounds before your child’s even home.

Australian research over the past decade suggests somewhere around one in five to one in four young people experience bullying, depending on the survey and definition used. At the same time, there are serious concerns around anxiety, depression, psychological distress, self-harm and suicide among Australian young people.

I’m not saying school causes those things. Mental health is complicated and there are usually many factors involved.

But I’m also not prepared to look at a miserable child and say, “Well, we all went through it.”

Did we?

Did we have smartphones at twelve? Group chats running until midnight? Social media algorithms following us into our bedrooms? Every stupid teenage mistake carrying the possibility of being photographed, filmed or screenshotted and passed around?

It’s not the same world.

And yes, children absolutely need to learn how to deal with difficult people. They’ll have friendship dramas, disappointments and annoying bosses.

We can’t wrap them in bubble wrap.

But there’s a big difference between ordinary difficulties and an environment that’s genuinely damaging a child.

Not getting invited to every birthday party is life.

Having a teacher you don’t particularly like is life.

Arguing with your best friend is life.

Being frightened to go to school every morning is something else.

Watching your child’s confidence disappear month after month is something else.

And I don’t think removing a child from that situation automatically means we’ve failed to teach resilience.

Sometimes it’s exactly what we’d tell an adult to do.

For some families, the answer might be working with the school. It might be changing classes, changing teachers or changing schools.

For others, it might be homeschooling.

And yes, one of the reasons I love homeschooling is that I’ve got far more say over the environment my children grow up in.

If a child’s being relentlessly bullied, they don’t have to spend six hours tomorrow in the same playground as the person tormenting them.

If they’re overwhelmed, we can slow things down.

If they need different friendships, we can find them through homeschool groups, sport, Scouts, church, dance, music, work experience, volunteering and people they actually share interests with.

I’ve never really understood why putting thirty children born within twelve months of each other into a room for six hours a day is considered the gold standard of socialisation anyway. Nobody makes adults do that.

Thank goodness, because I’m not convinced I want to spend Monday to Friday with thirty women born in the same year as me either.

Of course homeschooling can go badly too.

If we pull a teenager out of school and they spend the next three years alone in their bedroom living on two-minute noodles, scrolling TikTok and yelling “BRUH” into a headset at midnight, I’m not calling that a homeschooling success story.

Our kids still need friends. They need community. They need trusted adults. They need activities and responsibilities and a reason to get out into the world.

Homeschooling shouldn’t be about hiding children from life. For me, it’s about having more say over how they’re introduced to it. It’s about giving them room to grow, giving them time to build confidence and being close enough to notice when something isn’t right.

So when someone tells me, “I went to school and I turned out fine,” I believe them.

Maybe your child loves school too. Maybe they’ve got brilliant teachers, wonderful friends and they’re thriving.

Fantastic. Keep going.

But if you’re watching the light slowly disappear from your child, I don’t think you should ignore what you’re seeing because Grandma loved school in 1987.

We’re not raising Grandma in 1987.

We’re raising this child, in this world, right now.

And if the environment they’re in is genuinely hurting them, I don’t think leaving it is weakness.

Sometimes leaving is the sensible thing to do.

Sometimes it’s the brave thing to do.

And sometimes it’s the beginning of getting your child back.