This piece is written in memory of a friend whose life was slowly extinguished by institutional betrayal, coercive control, and the grinding weight of being unheard.
When a school inadvertently contributes to coercive control, the harm may be quiet, but it is not small. For the child, it means being unprotected. For the parent, it means being erased. And for the institution, it is a moment of ethical reckoning.
This piece is a follow-up to Gaslighted by proxy, which examined how schools can be manipulated—consciously or not—into reinforcing one parent’s narrative, even when it conflicts with a child’s safety, well-being, or truth. This happens most often in high-conflict separation and divorce contexts, where the abusive parent appears more compliant, more agreeable, more neutral. The targeted parent, often the one advocating for disability accommodations, trauma-informed care, or child-led transitions, is framed as difficult or disruptive.
But what happens when a school realises it has been complicit? What does institutional repair look like?
This guide is for those who want to step off the path of denial and onto the path of repair.
Recognizing complicity
Schools rarely intend to cause harm—but that does not mean they haven’t. Coercive control relies on enablers. When schools unquestioningly follow the lead of the more compliant parent, ignore disclosures from children, erase records of concern, or frame advocacy as aggression, they are not neutral; they are participants.
FAQ: What is coercive control, and how does it show up in school settings?
Coercive control is a pattern of domination that isolates, silences, and controls another person, often through subtle or institutional means. In schools, it can look like one parent monopolising communication, overriding accommodations, or using school staff to surveil, discredit, or exclude the other parent. Staff may unintentionally assist by treating both sides as equally credible, even when one has a documented history of harm.
Understanding the impact
When schools enable coercive control, children learn that speaking up is unsafe. They may mask distress to avoid conflict, or become dysregulated in settings that feel unsafe. The targeted parent—often the only one advocating for the child’s needs—is treated as a problem to manage, rather than a partner in support.
This institutional betrayal can deepen trauma. The parent may exhaust financial, emotional, and legal resources trying to be heard. The child may internalise blame, especially if school records reflect the narrative of the controlling parent.
FAQ: What if we didn’t realize we were doing harm?
Intent does not erase impact. Most complicity is unintentional—but that doesn’t make it harmless. What matters is what the school does next.
What schools should do next
- Acknowledge the harm. Avoid vague apologies. Name what happened: “We now understand that our practices may have contributed to a pattern of coercive control.”
- Rebuild the relationship. Re-centre the harmed parent-child dyad. Offer to meet on their terms. Validate their experience. Document this change in approach.
- Discontinue alignment practices. Do not prioritize the easiest or most agreeable parent. Ensure both parents’ perspectives are equitably recorded and considered, especially when one is flagged as vulnerable.
- Put protections in place. Implement boundaries to ensure the controlling parent cannot dominate staff time, override IEPs, or unilaterally shape documentation.
FAQ: What does a meaningful apology look like in this context?
A real apology names the harm, accepts responsibility, and outlines steps to prevent recurrence. It does not deflect, blame, or minimise. It should be documented and shared with all relevant staff.
Institutional reform
Schools must treat this not as an interpersonal failure, but as a structural one.
- Train staff on coercive control. Include patterns of institutional complicity in professional development.
- Create equitable communication protocols. Monitor for imbalances. Track who is being heard, and who is being silenced.
- Establish restorative practices. Offer written summaries, documented agreements, and transparent decision-making processes.
FAQ: How can we prevent this from happening again?
Build systems that notice when power is being misused. This includes reviewing email volume from each parent, flagging overrides of disability supports, and watching for patterns of discrediting advocacy. Some people decline every invitation to collaborate—until there’s a chance to discredit someone else. Then suddenly, they’re at the table.
A call to moral courage
It takes moral courage to admit harm. But it takes even more to make it right.
If you are a teacher, a principal, or a district staff member who now sees what you could not see before—this is your invitation to act. Not defensively. Not performatively. But with clarity, humility, and commitment.
Children remember who protected them. And who didn’t.
FAQ: What if staff are afraid of getting in trouble for past decisions?
The fear is real—but silence protects systems, not students. Repair does not require perfect hindsight. It requires accountability, and a willingness to change. Schools that lead with integrity can restore trust and prevent future harm.
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Gaslighted by proxy: how schools grant coercive power to the quietest parent
When one parent advocates and the other undermines, the school almost always aligns with the one who “gets along.” Not because that parent is more informed, more accurate, or more protective—but because they are easier to accommodate. They agree easily. They stay quiet.…
