Looking back on my school days and life in the community, I remember the daily struggles. It was the 90s, a time when technology was virtually non-existent in schools—perhaps there was the odd computer in the corner. As a child, conditions like ADHD and ASD were rarely recognized. I was diagnosed with dyslexia and a speech impediment, which required me to attend speech therapy. I also learned I was partially colorblind, all of which was assessed while I was still in primary school. While I did receive some SEN assessments, it was much more common for children to be evaluated back then than it is today.
I spent part of my day in the main classroom, but for the rest, I was placed in a small hut with five or six other students. These peers became my closest friends. We all had one thing in common: we struggled academically and emotionally but supported each other along the way. If we misbehaved, the teacher would pull us aside to talk about what we did wrong and how we could improve. If our behavior didn’t improve, we’d be asked to stand outside the classroom under the clock until the end of the lesson—a humiliating but effective method at the time.
School meals were top-notch. There were no transactions, just good, nutritional food like fish and chips, spaghetti Bolognese, and lasagna, all freshly cooked. You knew this because you could smell it throughout the day. Yum yum!
If primary schools were like the 90s but with the understanding we have today, education would be far better for young children.
In the 2000s, when I moved to secondary school, everything changed. I felt more scared and alone than ever. All my friends went to a secondary school in the community, but because my sibling was moved to another school, I had to follow. As a result, I went to a school where none of my friends were. As you can imagine—and some of you may have experienced—this was a traumatic experience that has stayed with me as I’ve grown older.
From Year 7 to Year 9, I struggled daily. I couldn’t speak to anyone and felt trapped in a bubble of anxiety and confusion. It felt like all the issues that were being addressed in primary school had been forgotten. Slowly, I began making friends, but they were a bad influence, and I developed unhealthy habits because I just wanted to fit in. This led to me skipping classes, particularly in subjects I wasn’t good at, to the point where I would miss entire days of school.
However, I did learn one of the biggest skills that schools don’t teach: independence. I discovered that I excelled in certain subjects and improved in those areas more than the school could ever teach. But overall, secondary school was a significant negative in my life.
Fast forward to my life as a parent, navigating the educational system for my five children, each of whom faced their own distinct challenges in nursery, primary, and secondary schools. The issues ranged from miscommunication and relentless bullying to increasingly rigid school rules and mounting financial burdens. It was heartbreaking to see my children return home unhappy, demotivated, and in some cases, refusing to eat due to the cost of school meals or the overwhelming environment they were forced to endure. Over time, these challenges snowballed, leading to emotional distress, negative behaviors, and even depression.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, when schools closed, we turned to homeschooling. We focused on core subjects like math, English, and essential life skills, using online tools and interactive lessons. To our amazement, the children flourished. This experience made it clear how much they thrived with a tailored approach to learning. I gained a new understanding of their individual learning styles, and it became evident that traditional schooling had failed to meet their needs in a significant way.
When schools reopened, the challenges intensified. The rigid structure of traditional education, especially in secondary schools, was at odds with the well-being of my children. For example, when one of my children entered Year 11, we were faced with the impossible choice of paying exorbitant fees for GCSEs or sending her to college—a situation that arose solely because we had chosen to homeschool during the pandemic. This underscored the systemic issues in education, which often penalize families who take non-traditional routes in their child’s best interests.
The struggles continued as we tried different schools—some focused on the arts, others more academically inclined—but none truly met our children’s needs. At one performing arts school, our eldest daughter thrived, but her younger siblings were not so fortunate. They experienced severe bullying, and when one of them was physically injured by another student, the school’s response was painfully inadequate. Our third child, shy and introverted, faced relentless verbal bullying about her appearance, leading her to avoid school altogether.
No matter how many schools we tried, the pattern remained the same—bullying persisted, and the schools failed to protect our children. In one instance, my child was forced to hide in the bathroom to escape the torment, while the school made empty promises to address the issue. After years of meetings, false assurances, and a lack of accountability, we realized that the system was not designed to accommodate the diverse needs of every child. Whether public or private, the focus seemed more on maintaining outdated rules than fostering an environment that nurtures every student.
E.L.A.H.A was born out of these personal experiences. It is more than an initiative—it’s a call to action. We aim to challenge the rigid, outdated practices in schools and build a system that works for all families. Our mission is to set higher standards in education, emphasizing the individual needs of each child, because children represent the future. E.L.A.H.A advocates for an educational system that is flexible, inclusive, and truly centered on the well-being and growth of every child, no matter their background or learning style.
One of the critical areas we focus on is how schools handle Special Educational Needs (SEN). Throughout my children’s schooling, I saw firsthand how the system often fails to provide adequate support for children with SEN. Many teachers, though well-intentioned, are overworked and underfunded. Without the proper resources or training, they are unable to identify and support children with specific learning needs. It became clear that while teachers genuinely want to help, the system often sets them up to fail, and children end up suffering the consequences.
Inadequate funding for SEN programs is a major issue. However, it’s not just about money—it’s about prioritizing the right practices. With time, effort, and a commitment to children’s well-being, schools could do so much more. Yet, too often, children are left to navigate a system that doesn’t cater to their unique needs, falling further behind both academically and emotionally.
E.L.A.H.A advocates for schools to focus on early identification of SEN. Teachers cannot teach effectively if they cannot identify which children need support. Without timely intervention, children fall through the cracks. While funding may be a barrier, there’s still much that can be done if schools put in the time and effort to better serve these students. We push for better teacher training, inclusive classroom practices, and policies that ensure every child—especially those with SEN—receives the support they deserve.
Another significant issue is the delay in SEN assessments, such as those carried out by Psion or CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services). Ideally, these assessments should be completed within three months, but in reality, they often take up to eight years. By the time many children finally receive the help they need, they have already left school, missing out on vital years of proper care and support. This delay is often due to schools needing to provide detailed reports to Psion or CAMHS, which adds yet another administrative burden on already overstretched teachers.
As a result, children in desperate need of support are left waiting, sometimes for years, while the system grinds slowly forward. By the time the assessments are done, it’s too late for many of these children to benefit from early intervention, leaving them to navigate school without the assistance they desperately need.
E.L.A.H.A is committed to addressing these issues. We advocate for streamlined processes that reduce delays and ensure timely assessments. By alleviating some of the administrative burdens on schools, teachers can focus on what truly matters—the children. At the same time, services like Psion and CAMHS can complete their assessments more efficiently. This approach is essential to ensuring children get the support they need before it’s too late.
At the heart of E.L.A.H.A is the belief that every child deserves the chance to thrive in school. We are here to push for change and to ensure that education becomes more inclusive, flexible, and focused on the individual well-being of each child.