Introduction: Beyond the Home – The Hidden Face of Abuse in Institutions
When most people think of abuse, they imagine it occurring within the walls of a home. However, in my experience, abuse extends far beyond a domestic environment. One of the most disturbing forms of this abuse that I’ve encountered is within my children’s school, an institution that has, in my case, become a site of psychological manipulation, emotional harm, and coercive control.
As a parent, I’ve found myself trapped in a cycle I never could have imagined. Unlike domestic abuse, where leaving, though difficult, is a possible escape, my current situation offers no such option. What began in 2022 as a failure to safeguard my daughter, after reporting peer on peer sexual harassment and assault to the police, has spiralled into an unreal nightmare for our entire family. After being denied a proper education, my daughter has now moved on to college, but the focus of those who are supposed to be educators has shifted to my son.
Legal obligations force me to send my son into an environment that continues to harm him, and any attempt to raise concerns or challenge his mistreatment has only resulted in further punishment and trauma. I can’t simply withdraw him, he’s in Year 11, preparing for his GCSEs. If I deregister him, I won’t be able to provide a sufficient education, as home-schooling without external support means I’d struggle to meet the high costs of taking GCSEs independently, never mind meet our basic needs. The trust owns most schools in our local area, and those they don’t, are over capacity, so simply moving is not an option.
This situation mirrors the dynamics of my past abusive relationship, feeling trapped, without escape, and powerless against an institution that wields all the control. Schools are meant to be transparent, operating in integrity, tasked with safeguarding their pupils. Yet, in my experience, this ideal has been anything but. The same behaviours the school claimed to safeguard against is precisely what they practice, all while hiding behind a veil of authority and respectability. It’s excused, normalised, and downplayed, leaving families like mine caught in an inescapable cycle.
This is my story, my truth. It’s not an indictment of all schools but an examination of the striking parallels I’ve encountered between a personal relationship marked by abuse and the treatment my family has faced within this institution. What I’ve experienced has been devastating, not just for me but for my children. While this may be an isolated case, it’s real, and it’s ours.
My Personal Story and the Nature of Abuse
I’m a single mother of three, and like many parents, I once believed schools would be safe havens for my children. For years, that belief held true. My children faced the usual bumps in their education, but issues were resolved without major disruption. Everything changed, however, when our family became ensnared in an institutional failure to protect.
To understand our story, it’s essential to recognise the trauma we've endured. After escaping an abusive marriage, my children and I became victims of relentless stalking and harassment by my ex-husband. This pursuit turned our lives into a constant state of fear. After years of struggle, we secured protection through the courts, including a no-contact family order and a 10-year restraining order, providing us the peace we desperately needed.
I thought that chapter was behind us. My children began to find their footing in school, which was aware of our history and upheld the court orders. My eldest thrived academically and emotionally, eventually heading off to university, a proud moment for any parent.
But in 2022, our hard-won sense of safety fell apart. My daughter, then 14, became trapped in an abusive relationship with a peer, the abuse escalated into sexual harassment severe enough to involve the police. From the moment we reported the sexual harassment, she was essentially denied an education. I assumed the school would act to protect her, but instead, they became complicit in her suffering, punishing her while deepening the emotional and psychological damage.
After the fourth police report and no action from the school, I raised a formal complaint, only to encounter hostility, lies, and coverups.
Meanwhile, my son returned to school with the support of the Education Welfare Officer, but he too began to experience victimisation. The day my daughter’s formal complaint was closed marked the beginning of his own struggle, which continues to this day. Each issue I raised was met with more lies and cover-ups, leaving me feeling powerless. The more I reported, the more the school retaliated, echoing the harassment I endured from my abuser.
This battle has left me emotionally and physically drained. It feels like being trapped in an abusive marriage all over again. The emotional toll is profound; just as I once felt helpless against my abuser, I now find myself fighting against an institution that uses its authority to evade accountability. Policies meant to safeguard my children have been weaponised, and bureaucratic responses only deflect responsibility, leaving my children vulnerable.
I’ve often questioned whether I’m overreacting, if I’m reading too deeply into the issues we face. To ground myself, I began documenting my experiences, hoping to prove to myself that I wasn’t losing my mind. Yet, an unsettling feeling persists.
We are trapped in a cycle of abuse, how is this possible in a school? This can’t be happening, can it?
As I lay out my story, I invite you, the reader, to reflect on what I’ve shared. If my conclusions hold any truth, then we must confront this injustice and demand change. I have drawn stark comparisons between the dynamics of personal abuse and the institutional failures we’ve encountered. These parallels reveal a disturbing reality that cannot be ignored, urging us all to recognise that abuse can thrive not just in our homes but in the very places meant to protect and nurture our children.
Gaslighting and Manipulation: Denying the Abuse
Abuse isn’t just about physical harm; it’s about power, control, and the distortion of reality. In personal relationships, this often comes in the form of gaslighting, where the abuser convinces the victim that their experiences are exaggerated or imagined. The same can happen in institutions like schools, where concerns raised by parents about unmet needs, bullying, mental health, or even mistreatment are systematically downplayed, denied, or turned back onto the parent and child.
In my personal experience, this tactic has been used time and again to undermine my legitimate concerns. After my daughter was sexually harassed and assaulted by a peer, I reported the incidents, the school were to lead in support and safeguard her. Instead, it suggested that my daughter, who they claimed, "looked older than her years," may have been partly to blame for the unwanted attention, and I her mother, mistook that for what was peer on peer domestic violence. This insinuation was not only hurtful, but it was a blatant attempt to shift responsibility from the school and the perpetrator onto my daughter and me. Despite the police and child protection being involved, the school’s narrative remained unchanged.
The most shocking part? This response was officially documented in the report accompanying my formal complaint outcome. It was a clear and brutal form of gaslighting; the institution deflected blame, trivialised the trauma, and rewrote the story in a way that absolved themselves of accountability, while betraying the vulnerable victim they were supposed to protect. By manipulating the narrative, they not only denied the seriousness of the assault but also justified their inactions, leaving my daughter to bear the emotional weight of their failures.
More recently, just last week, my son was refused access to the toilet during break time, an issue that may seem trivial but is part of a much larger pattern of control and manipulation. He was in extreme discomfort, so he took it on himself to walk to the nearest public toilet and return to school, telling them what he did. When I raised the concern, the school’s response was that a toilet pass had been issued that very morning. However, this claim made no sense, as no pass had been given to him or was needed that morning, and he didn’t need one to use the toilet during break time. By focusing on this fabricated narrative, they avoided the real issue, why he was denied a basic need in the first place. This is another classic case of gaslighting, where the institution distorted the facts, deflected responsibility, and downplayed the harm they caused.
These experiences highlight how schools can gaslight parents into believing that their concerns are exaggerated or misplaced, much like how abusers in personal relationships distort reality to maintain control. Parents are made to feel as though their child’s suffering is just part of the "normal" school experience, and when we push back, we’re labelled as difficult, unreasonable, or overprotective. The institution holds the power to control the narrative, deny the abuse, and close the matter without ever truly addressing the harm caused.
By employing these gaslighting tactics, schools not only evade accountability but also deepen the trauma for both the child and the parent. The denial of abuse and manipulation of the facts leaves families battling not just the harm itself, but the institution’s relentless efforts to cover it up. This is the dark side of authority, hidden behind a mask of respectability, and it must be exposed.
Exploitation of Vulnerabilities: Using Power to Cause Harm
Abusers, whether in personal relationships or institutions, are masters at exploiting vulnerabilities. In the case of schools, their position of authority allows them intimate knowledge of the personal lives of the families they serve. They know which parents are struggling with mental health, which are on low incomes or benefits, who has a child with special needs, and who has a background of trauma. Rather than offer protection, school turned this knowledge into a weapon, using these vulnerabilities to control, manipulate, and harm.
The school, instead of supporting us in our most vulnerable moments, used its power to intimidate and undermine us. Schools know that parents have little choice when it comes to education. We’re legally bound to send our children to school, making it easy for them to exploit that leverage, creating fear and pushing families into compliance.
This manipulation can go even deeper, where past traumas are exploited to keep pupils and parents silent or compliant. In my case, the school repeatedly attempted to pull me into meetings with my convicted abuser, despite being fully aware that I had a restraining order in place preventing any contact. They knew my history, they knew the legal protections in place, and yet they persisted, attempting to coerce me into situations that would breach those protections. The justification for their actions? “Because HR said we could.”
This wasn’t just an error in judgment; it was a deliberate use of power to exert control over me, weaponizing my trauma and legal safeguards against me. After yet another case of sexual harassment, I demanded to know what actions they were going to take and insisted it be put in writing. Their response? They punished me by trying to force me into a small room with my convicted abuser, a calculated move meant to break me down emotionally. It was a deeply abusive act, one that disregarded not only my well-being but also the safety of my family. This wasn’t about what was best for my children or ensuring a safe environment for me as a parent; it was about asserting their dominance and making it clear that they could act with impunity. The psychological cruelty of such an action is staggering, putting me in a situation they knew would retraumatise me, all to silence my demands for accountability. It was an abuse of power in the purest sense, stripping away my dignity while exposing my family to further harm.
Much like an abusive partner might weaponize a victim’s emotional or psychological vulnerabilities, the school used my trauma and history of abuse to force compliance. Their actions not only re-traumatised me but also compounded the pain my children and I were already enduring. Instead of receiving the care and protection we deserved, we were left powerless, our safety compromised, while the school hid behind bureaucratic justifications and a sense of untouchable authority.
This is the exploitation of vulnerability at its worst. When institutions like schools use their power to harm, they not only fail in their duty of care, but they also become the abusers themselves.
Cover-Ups and Collusion: A Network of Abuse
One of the most disturbing aspects of institutional abuse is that it often goes far beyond a single individual’s actions. Just as an abuser in a personal relationship manipulates their environment, lying to friends, family, or authorities to conceal their behaviour, schools and trusts can work together to cover up misconduct, using their collective power to silence victims and obscure the truth. Unlike an abuser in a domestic setting who operates within a limited circle, institutions hold vast influence, with the ability to control narratives and shift blame across multiple layers.
When raising serious concerns, I often faced a unified front of silence, deflection, and evasion. Emails are left unanswered, meetings become confrontations where I am overwhelmed and ambushed, and key issues are strategically avoided. The purpose of these interactions is rarely to address the harm done to my child but to protect the reputation of the school or trust. Teachers, leadership, and even governing bodies can work together to preserve the institution’s image, leaving the child and family to fend for themselves.
I experienced this firsthand when I raised a formal complaint that included concerns about my son’s aversion to physical contact. He had expressed discomfort after a head of year repeatedly roughed his shoulder, a form of contact he found distressing due to his past trauma. I requested that this be addressed, asking for the physical contact to stop. The school assigned a staff member to investigate the complaint. However, just three days into her investigation, this same staff member placed my son in a headlock during an incident.
At the time, I had no idea that this individual, who had physically restrained my son, was the same person tasked with investigating my complaint about inappropriate physical contact. It wasn’t until months later that I learned the truth. Even more disturbing was that the headlock incident was never properly investigated. I was given conflicting accounts, some staff members denied any physical contact had occurred, while the staff member involved admitted to the headlock but downplayed it as an accident. Despite the severity of the situation, the school did not follow proper policies to investigate the incident, intentionally misleading me and avoiding accountability.
This is how institutions operate when self-preservation takes priority. Instead of acknowledging their mistakes and addressing the harm caused, they deflect responsibility, mislead parents, and manipulate the process to shield their reputation. Allowing the very staff member who physically harmed my son to lead an investigation into physical misconduct was a blatant conflict of interest. It ensured that the process was neither transparent nor impartial, guaranteeing no resolution or justice for my child. This failure to maintain accountability reflects a deep-rooted flaw in the system, where safeguarding is sacrificed to protect institutional image.
This coordinated effort to cover up wrongdoing and mislead parents isn’t just negligence, it’s a deliberate act of collusion. And when those in positions of power close ranks to protect themselves, the families they are supposed to serve are left powerless. Each layer of the institution, from individual staff members to leadership, contributes to maintaining a polished facade, while the truth is buried beneath layers of denial and deflection.
Imagine if we treated domestic violence victims this way, if every time they sought help, their abuser was protected by the very systems meant to intervene. In a DV relationship, the abuser manipulates their immediate environment, but when a school or institution does this, the abuse is amplified by their authority.
Institutions like this are not only complicit, but they are also actively perpetuating abuse. And as long as this network of collusion and cover-ups remains unchallenged, they will continue to harm those they are meant to protect, ensuring that children and families suffer in silence while the system remains unaccountable.
Escalating the Abuse Through Retaliation
In abusive personal relationships, victims who dare to speak out often face retaliation, whether it’s through increased control, isolation, or a smear campaign designed to turn others against them. Tragically, the same chilling pattern of retaliation exists within the school when I challenged the institution’s failures and mistreatment of my children. The very systems meant to care for and protect children instead become agents of further harm, escalating their abuse in response to any attempt at holding them accountable.
I’ve experienced this first-hand with my son, who, despite having minimal sanctions on record, has been the subject of 12 serious incidents involving school staff since January 2024. It’s not just a case of negligence or misunderstanding, it’s clear that for daring to seek justice and fair treatment for my child, we’ve become the targets of institutional retaliation. Rather than addressing the harm or taking responsibility, the school seems to actively punish us for raising concerns, reinforcing the hostile environment that already exists.
Instead of correcting their wrongs, the school tightened their grip, using bureaucracy, vague policies, and even outright hostility to silence me. This tactic creates a system where those with the power to act, teachers, staff, leadership, form a collective shield to protect themselves, while the child suffers from escalating victimisation.
In a personal relationship, victims of abuse have access to support structures: police, social services, schools, and organisations that intervene and hold the abuser accountable. If a parent or child speaks out against domestic abuse, systems are in place to protect and support them. Ironically, when the abuse happens within the walls of a school, those same structures seem to disappear. Schools, backed by the power of trusts and regulatory bodies, are not only allowed to act with impunity but often retaliate against parents for demanding fair treatment. This creates a climate of fear, where standing up for my child was met with punitive actions designed to wear me down, exhaust my resources, and leave me feeling powerless.
These institutions have the advantage of holding positions of trust and authority, which allows them to frame their retaliation as “policy” or “sanctions,” when in reality, it’s nothing more than an abuse of power. This is how they maintained their control, by exploiting the vulnerabilities of my children and me, and by making the pursuit of justice so gruelling that I am discouraged from speaking out at all. The retaliation isn't just harmful, it's systemic, and it’s a method of ensuring that the institution remains untouchable while those who they are supposed to hold a duty of care for, suffer in silence.
In my case, rather than addressing why my son has faced so many serious incidents, the school has continually shifted the blame, deflected accountability, and even closed ranks to protect themselves. Their actions show that not only are they willing to ignore the harm they cause, but they will also actively retaliate against anyone who dares to hold them to account.
The message is clear: challenge us, and we will make you and your child suffer.
The Overwhelm of Confusion: Circular Responses and Vague Reassurances
In every complaint or concern I have raised, the responses, if they come at all, are often vague, misleading, or simply untrue. I have spent countless hours, even weeks, meticulously documenting my concerns, striving for clarity and precision. Yet, the replies I receive are rarely conclusive; they tend to gloss over key points and evade resolution entirely. It’s a frustrating cycle, reminiscent of trying to communicate with an abuser who distorts your words, turning your valid concerns against you.
This overwhelming back-and-forth feels like a deliberate tactic to confuse and disarm me. Important issues are skirted, leaving me feeling unheard and dismissed. Each response feels like a smokescreen, designed to deflect attention from the real problems at hand. Just as in abusive relationships, where the victim's perspective is twisted and invalidated, the school’s replies warp the truth, making it nearly impossible to achieve any meaningful resolution.
The emotional toll of this experience has been overwhelming. Each round of correspondence drains my energy and deepens my despair. I feel trapped in a cycle, constantly grappling with the frustration that my voice is lost in a maze of bureaucratic indifference. The institution’s refusal to engage transparently and address my concerns honestly, has created a toxic environment, only compounding the very issues I am trying to resolve.
In this chaos, clarity is sacrificed, leaving families like mine feeling overwhelmed, powerless, and isolated. It’s a distressing reflection of a system that prioritises its image over the well-being of its students and their families, further entrenching the cycle of abuse and neglect.
A System That Refuses to Intervene
When I raised concerns about the treatment of my children at school, I was met with indifference. The police dismissed my worries, labelling it a "school matter," while social services refused to intervene, deferring to the school as the rightful authority despite the obvious harm. Even safeguarding agencies, designed to protect children, sided with the institution, assuming it was acting in my children's best interests.
This collective lack of support left my family stranded. I was forced into an agonising choice: either raise complaints, which often escalated the situation, or endure the destabilising and relentless communications from the school. Watching my children suffer while feeling powerless to help was an unbearable weight.
During our last “Team Around the Child” meeting, a senior leadership member requested support from both our family support worker and my daughter's Independent Domestic Violence Advocate (IDVA) for a meeting they pressured me to attend, with my convicted abuser present. Rather than offering help, both services closed their cases shortly after, leaving us without any support.
This trapped us in an impossible situation. When those perpetuating the abuse are the ones you’re supposed to report it to, where can you turn? Filing formal complaints against the very institution responsible for the harm only triggers a process designed to protect itself rather than the children. Procedures are followed, but meaningful action is non-existent. The message is clear; our concerns are not worthy of genuine consideration.
The lack of intervention created a form of institutional gaslighting, denying the reality of our experiences and locking us in a relentless struggle for justice. Complaints were dismissed, investigations were half-hearted, and the emotional toll on my family deepened. The more we sought help, the worse the situation became. Fear, vulnerability, and hopelessness settled into our daily lives as my children suffered, and I was left feeling like every effort to seek support only made things worse.
This wasn't just a failure of accountability; it was a profound betrayal of trust. Abandoned by the systems designed to protect us, we were left at the mercy of a school perpetuating harm, unchecked. Despair set in as we were denied help repeatedly.
Why were we left to navigate this nightmare alone? Despite the many referrals we made, none were flagged by the police, LADO or social services. This question haunts me; how could such serious failings go unnoticed or ignored by those responsible for intervening in cases of harm? The systems meant to ensure safety and well-being failed us, deepening the betrayal and leaving me questioning if we’ll ever get the support we so desperately need.
Imagine if we treated domestic violence victims this way
It’s unfathomable to imagine if this same neglectful system were applied to domestic violence victims. What if, when a victim sought help, they were told to report the abuse to their abuser? They would never escape. In cases of domestic abuse, systems are in place to offer protection, shelter, and legal recourse, allowing victims a path to safety and recovery. Yet in my case, the very protection I was afforded when I escaped my abuser was nowhere to be found when it came to the school’s abusive actions toward my children and me.
Even when I had evidence, clear, undeniable proof of harm, it was swept aside. The indifference and deflection from authorities left us trapped in a cycle of escalating abuse. It’s absurd to think that domestic violence victims would ever be abandoned in this way, yet when it comes to institutional abuse, families like mine are left at the mercy of systems that refuse to protect.
This was a very difficult and dark time for us. I had already been through the fight of my life to escape an abusive relationship, only to find myself powerless and without support in the face of this institutional mistreatment. It leaves me questioning why, after so many cries for help, the systems that should have stepped in simply turned their backs. How could the protection I once found from domestic abuse not extend to the abuse my children faced at school?
The Legal Trap: Trapped by Law
In the UK, parents are legally required to ensure their children attend school or provide an education at home, placing those trapped in cycles of institutional abuse in a painful predicament. This legal obligation turns an already distressing situation into an impossible choice; send a child back into a harmful environment, risk legal consequences for non-attendance, or attempt to educate them at home. For parents who work or are caregivers, especially those of children with special educational needs (SEN)* whose needs are not being met, this adds immense pressure, straining both their resources and emotional well-being.
I know that many parents are fined for unauthorised absences, yet it is telling that despite marking my daughter as having unauthorised attendance for almost 2 years, the school never once pursued prosecution. This inaction suggests they were aware of their wrongdoing; had I been taken to court; their failures would have been revealed.
My son has experienced over 12 incidents of clear, provable victimisation just this year alone. Despite the countless hours I’ve invested in trying to resolve these issues, we find ourselves no further forward. Each attack cripples his mental health, leaving me fearful for his future. If he does not attend school when it becomes too overwhelming for him, we face heavy fines, yet if I take him out, he won’t be equipped to take his GCSEs. It feels like an insurmountable trap.
Desperation drives many parents to deregister their children, not out of choice, but as a last resort to shield them from harm and to stop the constant gaslighting and parent blaming we often face. However, without the means or support to home-educate, children are left without access to education, denied by the very institutions meant to nurture them. Vulnerable families, particularly single parents or those struggling with mental health, bear the brunt of this dynamic.
This situation mirrors the power dynamics of personal abuse, where the abuser exerts control, leaving victims feeling powerless and cornered. The education system, which should ensure equal opportunity for all, instead becomes a tool of coercion, punishing not only families like mine but also parents of SEN* children who resist the harmful practices that fail to support their children’s needs.
Imagine a domestic abuse scenario where the abuser not only controls the home but also has the legal authority to fine and threaten their partner for refusing to allow their child to be mistreated. It may seem outrageous, but for parents like me, this is the reality. Schools, like personal abusers, manipulate circumstances and hold parent’s hostage through legal means.
This reflects a deeply broken system that holds family’s hostage, where any attempt to protect a child from harm is met with punishment as severe as a criminal record for some. For parents like me, seeking justice becomes a battle against an institution that is both the abuser and enforcer, leaving us feeling increasingly powerless with each step we take.
*Disclaimer: While I touch on Special Educational Needs (SEN) in reference to the stories of other parents I have encountered, this does not apply to our personal situation. I recognise that there are additional complexities involved in seeking the appropriate support and provisions for SEN children. However, as this is not my direct experience, I am unable to elaborate further on those challenges, but I know they exist.
The Psychological Toll: The Isolation, Fear, and Constant Survival Mode
For families caught in cycles of institutional abuse, the psychological toll is immense. Unlike cases of domestic abuse, where external agencies are expected to intervene, dealing with the school has completely isolated us. The school wields its authority as an unquestionable force, leaving parents and children feeling vulnerable, unsupported, and powerless.
The emotional burden is overwhelming. Parents live in constant fear, not just for their child’s immediate safety but for their future. Each Monday morning brings a fresh wave of dread. Anxiety becomes a relentless companion, as families brace themselves for the next confrontation, sanction, or failure by the school to meet needs or provide protection.
Children, too, are left to endure environments rife with fear and anxiety. For them, school morphs into a hostile space where their mental health deteriorates, and their needs go unmet. Many eventually refuse to attend altogether, unable to cope with the ongoing trauma. Each absence from school reflects their struggle, a clear sign that the institution designed to support them has instead become a source of suffering.
This constant state of survival takes a heavy toll. Parents navigate not only the emotional fallout of their child’s experiences but also the looming threat of legal repercussions should their child struggle to attend due to overwhelming mental health issues. The pressure of potential fines, court actions, or even imprisonment compounds the distress, creating an unbearable situation where the very system meant to protect them threatens to further harm.
Single parents are particularly vulnerable, stretched thin by the demands of work, daily life, and the ongoing crisis management required by the school’s failings. The system appears designed to break them, rather than offer support, leaving families trapped in a cycle of fear and isolation, with no clear path to resolution. The emotional exhaustion is profound, as they wrestle with feelings of hopelessness and despair while desperately trying to advocate for their child in an environment that seems indifferent to their suffering.
When Education Becomes a Battleground: The Silent Suffering of Vulnerable Children
For many children, school becomes a breeding ground for trauma, particularly for those who are targeted or whose needs go unmet. The constant drip of snide remarks from adults, who should be nurturing their growth, inflicts deep psychological wounds, eroding their self-worth and mental health.
When these vulnerable children experience breakdowns or instinctively react in fight-or-flight mode, their responses are often met with punishment rather than understanding. Labelled as "disruptive," they face suspensions and sanctions for "breaching school standards," all while their genuine struggles remain unrecognised.
Upon their return, many children are placed in isolation rooms, further deepening their trauma and sense of alienation. The contradiction is glaring: if a parent were to treat their child in such a manner, subjecting them to emotional harm with derogatory remarks, ignoring their distress, punishing natural responses, and denying them basic needs and safety, it would immediately trigger safeguarding protocols. Yet, in schools, these very actions are masked as discipline, enforced by staff who demand respect and adherence to standards.
For parents, like me, who have fought to escape abusive home environments, this is especially shocking. I fought tirelessly to protect my children from harm, only to find the very institution entrusted with their care perpetuated similar abusive patterns. The double standard is stark and deeply troubling: what would be considered abusive at home is somehow tolerated and even institutionalised within the education system.
Trauma That Extends Beyond the School Years
The trauma caused by institutional abuse doesn’t end when the school bell rings; it lingers, embedding itself in the very fabric of a child's being. Many children who endure such experiences carry their pain into adulthood, where the psychological scars can manifest as anxiety, depression, PTSD, and other mental health issues that may last a lifetime.
The damage often extends beyond the individual, affecting family dynamics as well. Parents, particularly those who have fought tirelessly against the system, grapple with profound guilt and helplessness. They may feel they failed to protect their child from an institution that should have been a safe environment. This ongoing struggle can lead to strained relationships, financial hardships, and a sense of isolation as families often find themselves alienated from a system that offers little support.
Years of advocacy can become a relentless cycle of hope and despair, where small victories are overshadowed by larger systemic failures. The emotional toll of battling an institution can lead to chronic stress, affecting parents' mental health and well-being. Many families are left in a state of perpetual crisis, burdened by the weight of their unresolved trauma and the ongoing fight for a safe education for their child.
For children, the repercussions can manifest in various ways; difficulty in trusting authority figures, fear of educational settings, or a belief that their voice and needs will always be overlooked. These patterns can follow them into adulthood, impacting their mental health, career prospects, and relationships.
Ultimately, the cycle of institutional abuse creates a profound legacy of trauma that can persist for generations. It is imperative that we acknowledge and address these issues, not only to support the affected individuals but to break the cycle of harm that continues to plague our educational systems. Every child's experience matter, and it is crucial to work towards a system that prioritises healing, understanding, and genuine support, alongside education.
Fighting a Battle on All Fronts: Systemic Failures and Closed Doors
I have not been passive in my fight to protect my children. Quite the opposite. Throughout 2022, while struggling mentally after being dragged through family court by my ex-abuser, my daughter was being severely failed by the school system. Rather than receiving support, she was punished and isolated for being a victim, whilst her abuser continued his education. Not only were we under threat in our personal lives, but we also faced hostility, dismissal, and deceit from school staff.
I raised formal complaints that were met not with solutions, but with scathing responses aimed at discrediting my daughter. The replies were full of twisted truths, outright lies, and glaring omissions, designed to paint her as the problem while ignoring the school's responsibility. It was a blatant attempt to silence us.
I turned to the Department for Education, who acknowledged that the school didn’t follow the proper complaints process but also stated it doesn’t deal with individual cases. OFSTED? A dead end, unsurprisingly, as the academy’s CEO was a chief inspector at the time. Social services, the police, our MP, the NSPCC, the LADO and LA Education Department, and the Teaching Regulation Agency? All of them closed their doors, refusing to hold the school accountable. No one cared to listen, no one wanted to act.
This year my son was subjected to similar mistreatment, yet my complaints about these have been completely disregarded. The school didn’t even attempt to address his issues, despite everything being communicated in writing. They still ignore my requests to meet my reasonable adjustment, of communicating in writing.
I have since secured legal representation for my daughter’s case, and we are in the process of filing a claim for professional negligence. But even that hasn’t stopped the school from coming after my son. They know how hard it is to hold them accountable and refuse to put any real commitments in writing, knowing full well that I will challenge them. And why wouldn’t I? It’s not just my right, it’s my duty as a mother. But the fact that I’m forced to fight this hard, just to get basic justice for my children, shows just how broken this system truly is.
At the End of My Rope: A Call for Change
As a single parent, all I want is to provide a safe and stable life for my children, but this ongoing fight has cost me dearly. I've lost my job, watched a relationship crumble, and have been left unable to work a normal job because this battle consumes my life. Every day is a question mark, not knowing what new hurdle or injustice awaits us, but so far, it has been relentless. It feels like being trapped in the same cycle of abuse I fought so hard to escape from.
There are countless instances of failures, abuse, and harmful tactics I could enumerate, but this isn’t about bashing the school or seeking sympathy. It’s about highlighting the harsh reality of being trapped in an abusive relationship with an institution, one that has harmed both of my younger children emotionally and physically. My eldest thrived in the same environment without issue; the only difference was my youngest daughter was sexually harassed and assaulted. How can reporting sexual harassment trigger what has become 2 years and 8 months of living hell for us all? A question I ask myself nearly every day.
Exposing the Abuse, Demanding Accountability
It’s time to call institutional abuse for what it is: a profound violation of trust and dignity. Those who abuse their positions of power, teachers, school leaders, and administrators, must be held accountable for their actions. If the same behaviours were in a home setting, it would trigger a safeguarding referral, yet, they are not only tolerated but perpetuated within these institutions. This hypocrisy is not just unacceptable; it is a betrayal of every child and family who relies on these systems for safety and support.
Just as we stand for justice in cases of domestic abuse, we must rally together to demand justice for those harmed by these institutions. The cycle of abuse, gaslighting, and cover-ups must end, and the systemic failures that allow this behaviour to thrive must be confronted head-on. The welfare and wellbeing of children and families hang in the balance, and I cannot remain silent any longer.
I owe it to my children to expose the truth and to hold these institutions accountable. They must be made to answer for their actions, and those who turn a blind eye to the suffering of vulnerable families must be confronted with the reality of their complicity. It’s time for us to unite, to amplify our voices, and to dismantle the structures that enable this abuse. The well-being of our children, their futures, and the integrity of our educational system depend on it.
My Final Thoughts: My Personal Battle, Our Collective Fight
At this point, I honestly don’t know what this blog will achieve. What I do know is that silence has only deepened our pain. For too long, I trusted the institution to act with the integrity and honesty it promised, hoping each new day would bring fairness, support, and protection for my children. But instead, we were met with betrayal, and that trust shattered piece by piece. Each time I stayed quiet, believing that surely someone in a position of power would intervene, our situation only grows worse.
I’m writing this with the hope that our story reaches the right people, families like mine who are struggling, perhaps feeling isolated, silenced, or powerless. If this blog can spark even one conversation, one moment of shared understanding, then maybe it will be enough to begin chipping away at the walls that have kept us voiceless. I don’t know where this will lead, but I know that we cannot continue to suffer in the dark, unseen and unheard. By sharing my story, by putting my pain and my truth out into the world, I hope something good, something meaningful, will finally come from it. If nothing else, perhaps someone will realise that they are not alone in this struggle.
If this resonates with you, or if you would like to learn more about my story, please don’t hesitate to reach out through the contact page or below in the comments. Together, we can raise awareness, challenge these institutions, and stand up for our children and their families who deserve better.
