When your neurodivergent child is struggling at school, knowing something isn’t right is one thing. Knowing what to do about it is another.

The moment: When your child starts believing they’re the problem

My son needed a movement break.

Instead, he was sent outside the classroom to stand by himself.

He wasn’t trying to avoid learning. He needed an opportunity to move, regulate and return to what he was doing.

But that wasn’t how his needs were being interpreted.

When I raised concerns with the school, the conversations often came back to his behaviour.

He was disruptive. He didn’t listen. He refused to complete classroom tasks. His attitude was the problem. And then my son started calling himself a “bad kid”.

That was the part that really got to me.

Because somewhere between what he was experiencing and how the adults around him were responding, he was beginning to believe that he was the problem.

And it wasn’t just about movement breaks.

I found myself explaining that ADHD isn’t simply about hyperactivity. That it can affect attention, executive functioning, emotional regulation and so many other things that aren’t always visible to someone looking in from the outside.

Then there were the assessments.

My son was being marked down for his lack of eye contact and the intonation of his voice, both connected to his autism.

I wasn’t asking for marks he hadn’t earned. I wanted to know whether he was being assessed on what he’d learned or how successfully he could meet expectations around eye contact and verbal delivery.

Eventually, the comments were removed.

The grades stayed the same.

These might sound like three separate issues, but to me they were all connected.

My son’s needs were being interpreted as behavioural problems, his differences were affecting how he was assessed, and I was having to explain why these things mattered.

I don’t expect every teacher to be an expert in every neurodevelopmental condition.

But I do expect a willingness to understand the children they’re teaching.

And when that understanding isn’t there, what are parents supposed to do?

The invisible work: Becoming the person who has to explain everything

One of the things I don’t think people fully appreciate about advocating for a neurodivergent child is how much work happens behind the scenes.

It’s not just a matter of sending an email or arranging a meeting.

It’s researching what your child might need, understanding what support is available, talking to specialists, gathering documentation and working out how to explain your concerns in a way that will be heard.

In our case, there was initially a fair amount of pushback.

To get our son’s needs taken seriously, I had to obtain supporting evidence from his paediatrician and psychologist.

That meant more appointments, more paperwork and more time spent trying to establish something I could already see happening.

And then there was the repetition.

Explaining the same things. Raising the same concerns. Following up on conversations that didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

All while trying to maintain a positive relationship with the people responsible for teaching and supporting my child.

I found that particularly difficult.

Because you want to trust your child’s teachers. You want to believe that everyone is working towards the same outcome.

You don’t want to be constantly questioning decisions, chasing responses or wondering whether you’re becoming that parent.

But what do you do when your child is struggling, losing confidence and beginning to describe himself as bad?

You keep going.

Eventually, some adjustments were made, including movement breaks.

And those small wins mattered.

But progress was slow, and the bigger picture wasn’t changing enough.

There was bullying from other children. There were adjustments we were told couldn’t be made because of a lack of funding. And over time, I felt the school had already decided my son was simply too difficult.

That’s a hard position to be in as a parent.

You can see your child struggling. You know he needs help. You’re investing time, energy and money into trying to make things better.

And eventually, you begin to question whether continuing to push for change in the same environment is actually helping your child.

The bigger question: Why does support depend so much on the parent?

Something I’ve thought about a lot since those experiences is how much responsibility falls on parents to navigate school support.

We’re expected to recognise when something isn’t right, work out what might help, gather evidence, understand the terminology and know who to approach.

And if the first conversation doesn’t go well?

We try again.

But what happens when parents don’t know what they’re entitled to ask for?

What happens when they can’t afford private appointments or specialist reports?

What happens when they don’t have the confidence to challenge a decision made by a teacher or school leader?

And what happens when they simply don’t have the energy to keep pushing?

I know there are wonderful teachers doing extraordinary things with limited time, funding and resources.

I’ve encountered educators who genuinely care and want to make a difference.

But I’ve also learned that having policies about inclusion and actually making inclusion work are two very different things.

I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect children to learn, develop resilience and work through challenges.

But I do question what we’re teaching them when their disability-related needs are consistently treated as problems with their attitude or behaviour.

And I question a system where parents can feel they need to become experts in education policy simply to have their child’s needs understood.

The bigger issue isn’t that children sometimes struggle at school.

All children struggle at times.

It’s what happens when the support around them isn’t enough, and how difficult it can be to change that.

The discovery: What actually helps when school isn’t working?

I wish I could tell you there was one conversation that changed everything.

There wasn’t.

For us, it involved countless conversations, professional recommendations, adjustments, disappointments and eventually a decision to change schools.

We moved our son to a much more expensive school.

That wasn’t a decision we made lightly, and I recognise how fortunate we were to have that option.

But it wasn’t simply about finding a school with better facilities or more resources.

It was about accepting that despite everything we’d tried, the situation wasn’t improving enough for our son.

Between the bullying, the slow progress and the lack of understanding, we’d reached a point where continuing to push for change wasn’t giving him the school experience he needed.

And the difference has been significant.

His new school has clearer policies and structures, a dedicated learning enhancement team and staff with a better understanding of neurodivergence.

Most importantly, there’s a willingness to consider his individual needs.

They want him to be happy.

They want him to learn.

And they recognise that those two things are connected.

Does that mean everything is perfect?

Not even close.

I still advocate. I still follow up. I still question things and sometimes have to push.

But the relationship is different.

Instead of constantly trying to establish that my son’s needs are real, we can spend more time working out what might actually help.

I’ve learned that a supportive school isn’t necessarily one where you never have a difficult conversation.

It’s one where those conversations can lead somewhere.

And that brings me to the part I wish someone had explained when we first started navigating all of this.

Where do you actually start?

If your child is struggling at school, you don’t need to understand the entire education system before you do something.

Start small. Start with what’s happening in front of you.

1. Write down what you’re seeing.

Not just what the school reports, but what happens at home.

Are mornings becoming difficult? Is your child exhausted or distressed after school? Are they losing confidence, avoiding particular activities or talking negatively about themselves?

Write down specific examples, including what your child tells you.

You don’t need a perfectly organised file. A few notes on your phone are better than trying to remember everything later.

2. Ask for a meeting and be specific about your concerns.

Start with the classroom teacher or the person responsible for learning support.

Rather than saying “school isn’t working”, explain what’s happening and how it’s affecting your child.

You might say:

“My child is becoming increasingly distressed about school, and I’m concerned that some of his needs aren’t being recognised. I’d like to meet to understand what you’re seeing in the classroom and discuss what adjustments we could try.”

And if you’re being told that your child’s behaviour or attitude is the problem, ask a different question.

“What might be contributing to this behaviour, and what adjustments have we tried to help?”

That one question can shift the conversation from what your child is doing wrong to what might be making things difficult.

You don’t need to arrive with a complete solution.

You do need to start the conversation.

3. Ask what support can be provided now.

This is important.

In Australia, schools have legal obligations to make reasonable adjustments for students with disability so they can access education on the same basis as their peers.

A formal diagnosis isn’t always required for these obligations to apply. Schools may ask for relevant information to better understand a child’s needs, but that doesn’t automatically mean parents must pay for private specialist assessments before support can be considered.

So if your child is struggling, start the conversation. Ask what adjustments could be trialled based on the difficulties they’re experiencing now.

For example, could a planned movement break help? Would clearer instructions or a quieter working space make a difference? Could your child demonstrate their learning in another way?

The aim is to identify barriers to learning and explore reasonable ways to reduce them.

And if you’re told an adjustment can’t be provided because of funding, ask what alternatives have been considered and how the school proposes to meet your child’s needs.

A lack of individual disability funding doesn’t automatically remove a school’s obligations to consider reasonable adjustments.

4. Put agreements in writing and set a review date.

After meetings, send a brief email confirming what was discussed.

What adjustments will be tried? Who will be responsible? When will you review whether they’re working?

It doesn’t need to be complicated.

Something as simple as:

“Thanks for meeting today. My understanding is that we’ll trial the agreed movement breaks and review how they’re working in four weeks. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything.”

Try not to leave a meeting with a vague agreement to “see how things go”.

Having a review date gives everyone an opportunity to assess what’s working, what isn’t and what needs to change.

And if progress stalls, you have a record of what’s been agreed.

5. If you’re not getting anywhere, find out what comes next.

Sometimes the first conversation doesn’t resolve things.

Sometimes neither does the fifth.

If adjustments aren’t being implemented, concerns are repeatedly dismissed or your child continues to struggle, ask who else can help.

That might be the school’s learning support coordinator, wellbeing team, principal or the relevant education authority.

Independent disability advocacy organisations can also help families understand their options.

For Victorian government schools, concerns are generally raised first with the teacher or school, then the principal or leadership team, and may be escalated to the Department of Education if unresolved.

Catholic and independent schools have different governance and complaints arrangements, so check the relevant school’s published process.

You don’t need to know everything.

You just need to know where to look next.

Useful resources for Australian parents

If you’re unsure where to begin, these resources can help you understand your options.

● Australian Government — Disability Standards for Education

Information about reasonable adjustments, consultation and the obligations of education providers.

● Victorian Government — Extra learning support for students

Information about school support, adjustments, Student Support Groups and Individual Education Plans.

● Victorian Government — School complaints

Information about raising and escalating concerns in Victorian government schools.

● Children and Young People with Disability Australia (CYDA)

Resources to help families understand inclusive education, disability rights and school support.

And what if nothing seems to work?

I think this deserves its own conversation, because sometimes parents do everything they’re supposed to do and their child is still struggling.

That’s where we found ourselves.

Changing schools was our eventual decision, but it isn’t the only possible way forward, and it certainly isn’t available to everyone.

Depending on the circumstances, families might seek a further review of adjustments, involve additional support staff, obtain independent advice or use the relevant complaints process.

Sometimes a different approach within the same school makes an enormous difference.

Sometimes the environment itself needs to change.

There isn’t one right answer for every child.

And I think it’s important that we stop pretending there is.

The conversation: What I wish I’d known, and what I’d love to hear from you

Looking back, there are a few things I wish someone had told me at the beginning.

That advocating for your child can be exhausting, expensive and emotionally draining.

That you’ll sometimes have to explain the same thing more times than you can count.

That you might lose respect for adults who refuse to question their assumptions or learn more about the children they’re responsible for.

That sometimes you’ll get the adjustment you asked for, but not the outcome you hoped for.

And that even the smallest win can feel enormous.

I also wish someone had told me that finding a better school wouldn’t necessarily mean the end of advocacy.

Our relationship with our son’s current school is ongoing and evolving.

It requires communication, trust, problem-solving and, occasionally, some fairly persistent follow-up.

But there’s a willingness to work together.

And that makes an enormous difference.

I don’t think parents should have to fight constantly for their children to be understood. Nor do I think every teacher should be expected to solve every problem without the resources and support they need.

But I do believe we can do better at meeting somewhere in the middle.

And if you’re a parent who’s only just starting to realise that school isn’t working for your child, this is what I’d want you to know.

You have options. You can ask questions. You can request changes. You can seek support. And things can improve.

It might take longer than you’d like.

You might have to be more persistent than you ever imagined.

But progress is possible.

And sometimes the most meaningful change isn’t a grade, an adjustment or a new school.

It’s seeing your child begin to feel happier and more understood.

I’d love to hear from other parents who’ve navigated school challenges, and from educators who see this process from the other side.

What helped you move forward? What made things harder? Was there a conversation, adjustment or person who changed the experience for your child?

I can’t change every school or make this process easier for every family. But if sharing what we’ve learned helps another parent recognise that their child isn’t the problem, understand what they can ask for, or find the confidence to start a difficult conversation, then it’s worth sharing.

Because no child should come home from school believing they’re a bad kid simply because the adults around them haven’t worked out how to support them.

This article shares my personal experience and general information about school support in Australia. Processes and policies can vary between states and school sectors. For advice about your circumstances, contact your education authority or an independent disability advocacy organisation.