“School can’t:” what’s really going on for our kids

For years we’ve talked about “school refusal.” Increasingly, both researchers and clinicians are moving to a different term: “school can’t.” The shift is more than semantics. Refusal implies a choice. Can’t describes something closer to what’s actually happening, a child whose distress has climbed past the point they’re able to manage on their own, often showing up as extreme anxiety, panic, or physical symptoms at the thought of school.

A trend that isn’t spread evenly

School attendance across Australia has declined noticeably since the pandemic, and the concern has been serious enough to trigger a federal Senate inquiry into the national trend of school refusal. What the inquiry and the research since have made clear is that this isn’t happening evenly across the student population.

Neurodivergent students are significantly overrepresented in school non-attendance data. Research in the United Kingdom found that over 90 per cent of students experiencing significant school-related distress identify as neurodivergent, with the large majority identifying as autistic. In Australia, the pattern has been visible enough that enrolments in special assistance schools rose by around 276 per cent between 2016 and 2024, compared with roughly 23 per cent growth in mainstream school enrolments over the same period, a gap that points to families moving toward environments better suited to their child’s needs.

LGBTQIA+ students also show disproportionately high rates of school-related distress, linked to discrimination, harassment, and a lack of supportive policy and resourcing. And for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students, researchers have identified what’s been described as an “attendance cliff,” a significant drop in attendance specifically during the transition from primary to secondary school, a pattern that’s now driving calls for targeted national policy reform.

Why the transition to high school is such a pressure point

Across all of these groups, one pattern repeats: risk peaks hardest at the move into high school. That transition asks a lot all at once, a bigger campus, more teachers, more noise, more social complexity, and far less flexibility than most primary settings offer. For a student already managing sensory sensitivity, social anxiety, cultural disconnection, or the aftermath of pandemic disruption, that jump can be the tipping point.

Part of what’s driving the current wave is genuinely post-pandemic. Extended lockdowns and home based learning gave some students, particularly those who found the mainstream environment overwhelming, a taste of a quieter, more controllable way to learn. Returning to a rigid, loud, socially demanding structure afterward has been a harder readjustment for some kids than others.

There’s also a systemic piece. Mainstream schools are working to accommodate different learning styles, sensory needs and trauma informed practice, and a lot of genuine effort is going into that. But the gap between policy intention and day to day classroom reality is still wide enough that many students are falling through it.

A perspective from the therapy room

None of this dismisses the very real weight of bullying, social media pressure, and underlying anxiety, which remain heavy contributors in their own right. But I think there’s another layer worth naming.

I’ve spoken before about the idea of optimal stimulation and what I think of as a cost benefit equation. For most of us growing up, whatever decade that was, there was an underlying expectation that effort now led to reward later. That equation required something specific of us: the ability to sit with discomfort while we waited.

What I’m noticing in the room is that this capacity to tolerate discomfort is getting harder for many young people to build, not because they’re less resilient by nature, but because so much of the rest of their world no longer asks it of them. When school demands cost before any visible benefit, and almost everything else in a child’s life has trained them to expect reward instantly, that gap becomes very difficult to hold.

This is my own clinical observation, offered as a question worth sitting with rather than a finding. It doesn’t replace or minimise the other factors above. It sits alongside them.

What this means for families

If your child is showing significant distress about school, a few things are worth keeping in mind:

• This is not a discipline problem, and it’s not a reflection of bad parenting.
• The earlier you involve the school, the more room there usually is to adjust rather than escalate.
• If distress is significant or ongoing, a psychologist experienced with children and adolescents can help identify what’s actually driving it and build a plan from there.

This article is general information, not a diagnosis or individual treatment advice. Every child’s situation is different. If you’re concerned about your child’s mental health, a good starting point is your GP or a psychologist who works with young people. Reflection Psychology Group can be reached on (03) 9809 4888 or at reflectionpsychology.com.au to arrange an appointment. If your family is in immediate distress, Lifeline is available on 13 11 14.