Bereavement or trauma does not pause for exams.
It does not arrive neatly outside term time.
It does not give notice.
It does not respect timetables or policies.
And yet when it arrives suddenly and inside the school environment young people and families are often expected to carry on as though nothing has changed.
I bet you are shocked to hear that. I know I was.
One of the most tragic things that could happen in her life had just happened. At the same time, the very place where that trauma occurred was the place she was expected to return to, to sit quietly at a desk and perform.
As her auntie, and with her exams only a few weeks away, I spoke with her gently about what this could realistically look like. We agreed we would attend the doctors to obtain a letter explaining what she needed in order to proceed.
I then contacted the school to discuss the options available, supported by a doctor’s letter confirming that because the trauma was associated with the school environment, she could not return there to sit her exams. I explained that she was willing and able to sit her exams anywhere else, at any other location, and that I was even prepared to pay if necessary.
The issue was not the exams.
The issue was the place.
Eventually, after weeks of trying to get this resolved as quickly as possible to ease her panic, we were told that alternative arrangements required six weeks notice and could not be accommodated. I couldnt believe what I was hearing....he hadn't died within the timeframe they had set!!! We was also told that special consideration would only be considered if she physically went into the school and sat at the examination desk despite medical evidence confirming that this was psychologically not something she could manage. If this wasn’t a special circumstance I don’t know what is.
So there was no help and no support. Only facts, rules, and procedures.
No discretion.
No flexibility.
No grace.
My mum and I contacted the school repeatedly. I chased responses. There was no feedback, no guidance, and no meaningful recognition of what was happening.
Every exam morning, my mum got up at 5am and e-emailed the sick note explaining that she was unable to attend that day due to trauma. Every exam day we did this in the hope that it would mean something.
I genuinely believed that once the school understood what was happening, appropriate arrangements would be made. Instead, what we were met with was a system, factual, procedural, and rigid. Do you notice the theme yet?? The path set out before her was suddenly in jeopardy. Instead of asking how they could protect her progress and her mental health, nothing meaningful happened.
Bailey was on track to pass and get good grades. That mattered not because of the grades themselves, but because she had worked for them. She had earned them. And now she was being penalised for something entirely outside her control.
I was terrified about what this meant for her future. I didn’t know how I was going to make sure she felt supported and heard let alone how she could still carry on with her plans for further education.
In the end, the cruel irony was that the only way the system could help was after she failed to attend.
We looked at how she could proceed with her course and which exams she would need to take along side the agreed path in order to be accepted. Although this felt terribly unfair (and still does), she accepted that this was what she would need to do to move forward.
She did this with little fuss.
With quiet strength.
With a resilience I can barely put into words.
I am so proud of her.
This should never have happened.
When I talk about this now, people are shocked that no arrangements were made or even considered. That reaction matters, because it tells me what I already know: the system failed her.
Although we fought hard and covered every avenue, I made a promise to myself to revisit this in the future.
We should be supporting our children, not building systems that block that support when it is most needed.
Children deserve care not obstacles disguised as process.