The brutal truth about schools weaponising therapy to deny your child’s rights

Behind the polite smiles and scripted “collaboration” lies a brutal truth: the system forces parents into an exhausting ritual of proving they deserve what is already owed—an education that honours their child.

This violence hides in the casual question, “What therapy are they getting?”—a question laced with suspicion, wielded as a gatekeeper to scarce, conditional support.

For some children—especially those with ADHD profiles or whose distress becomes visible—support is withheld until families produce evidence of “therapeutic compliance.” Even then, help is rationed, temporary, and snatched away without warning. Meanwhile, other designations are promised unconditional access, yet in reality, the same poisonous suspicion thrives. Those who contort themselves into compliance get crumbs; those who resist are treated like liabilities.

Therapy as currency for care

When my children were punished, misunderstood, and broken down by classrooms that misread them, I chased every possible therapy: occupational, counselling, art, play, social groups, medication. My evenings vanished into forms, bookings, and cross-city drives—fuelled by an unspoken demand: prove your worth as a parent by endlessly “fixing” your child.

What I now know, with a clarity that burns, is that the problem was never my children—it was the hostile, shaming, under-resourced conditions they were forced to survive. Unsupported classrooms. Behaviour plans dripping with humiliation. Delayed assessments. Impossible demands. Teacher training soaked in compliance dogma. A culture of blame so thick it clung to every interaction.

The moment that shattered the illusion

After my daughter’s diagnosis by a brilliant autistic psychologist, I asked what else we could try. She looked at me and said: After surviving a day in a system designed to harm her, do you really think she needs therapy? Hand her an iPad. Let her rest. It was the first time someone told me that stepping back could be the most radical act of care.

Since then, I’ve watched dozens of families waste themselves in a logistical purgatory of therapy runs and waiting rooms, trying to appease an institution that will never fix the harm it causes.

The system is broken, not our children

Coerced, performative, compulsory therapy is not care—it’s an alibi for systemic abuse. It shifts blame to the child, keeps parents busy, and shields schools from accountability. Sending a child straight from a restraint, an exclusion, or a humiliation into a therapist’s office is cruelty dressed as help. If therapy is needed anywhere, it’s for the staff who enforce compliance and call it support.

No more tollgates to belonging

Therapy as a condition for education is coercive proceduralism. It’s bandwidth theft. It’s an emotional tax extracted from families already living in survival mode. These children you call “difficult” are not problems. Their refusal is a warning signal. Their distress is evidence. Their collapse is a consequence you created.

End the pretence that therapy is the price of a support plan. Stop demanding that parents burn every dollar, evening, and ounce of hope to cover the school’s negligence. The work ahead is simple and hard: make the institution fit the child, not the other way around.