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Rationing care

Rationing care is the slow, daily process by which professionals decide who gets seen, heard, supported, and believed—based not on need, but on patience, performance, or policy alignment. It is a violence dressed in professionalism, a soft form of abandonment reinforced by funding formulas and compassion fatigue. This tag collects writing on how care is withheld, distributed, and weaponised in schools and support systems.

  • Our goals are not the same: ableism in bc public school

    Our goals are not the same: ableism in bc public school

    I want my children supported to grow and learn; schools uphold ableism by demanding they mask compliance or feign helplessness for support.

  • Flourishing as an ethical imperative

    Flourishing as an ethical imperative

    Like many of you, I caught CBC’s Ideas episode the other day, where philosopher Angie Hobbs spoke about the ancient Greek concept of eudaimonia—a term sometimes translated as happiness or welfare, but more richly understood as human flourishing. In a world flooded by crisis, it may seem indulgent or impractical to contemplate the good life,…

  • Post-COVID rise of blended classrooms in BC elementary schools

    Post-COVID rise of blended classrooms in BC elementary schools

    In British Columbia’s elementary schools, multi-grade or “blended” classes (where students from different grade levels learn together) have become more prevalent in the post-COVID period. Educators report that shifting enrolment patterns and funding pressures after the pandemic have led schools to organise more combined-grade classes than before  www2.gov.bc.ca. The increase in split classes is largely driven…

  • The afterlife of austerity

    The afterlife of austerity

    When public institutions are forced to survive under prolonged austerity, something deeper than budgets begins to break—something in the connective tissue of trust, of care, of the quiet, ordinary belief that systems exist to serve people. The myth of resilience—the comforting story we tell ourselves about teachers with hearts of gold and staff who always…

  • What looks like a reward is often a repair

    What looks like a reward is often a repair

    When a child returns from the office with gummy worms or a cartoon, it may look like a reward—but often, it is a repair. In a system built on scarcity, the smallest gesture of care is mistaken for indulgence. This essay reframes the narrative around “rewarding bad behaviour” to reveal what is actually happening beneath…

  • The right amount of agony in BC schools

    The right amount of agony in BC schools

    After watching my children endure eight years of institutional failure, eight years of exclusion disguised as discipline and support withheld under the language of inclusion, I have come to several conclusions. Certain forms of suffering—like being agonised inside—do not draw support because they do not disrupt the adult’s flow, do not demand intervention with noise…

  • Bound by blood

    Bound by blood

    Maternal embodiment and the unbearable violence of institutional disbelief. We were once one body There is a biological, emotional, and moral reality so fundamental that no policy manual can contain it, and no professional training can domesticate it—my child once lived inside me. His limbs pressed against my ribs before they ever touched the outside…

  • Wait and see: a mother’s warning

    Wait and see: a mother’s warning

    Before kindergarten began, we told them—unequivocally, painstakingly, with as much specificity as we could muster—that our son had been harmed in daycare, that he had a long line of diagnoses and was awaiting an autism assessment, that his nervous system was thrashed, and that he would require sustained, full-day relational support in order to experience…

  • The cost of masking: What we lose when children perform wellness

    The cost of masking: What we lose when children perform wellness

    This evening, I walked my son down the street toward the place where his father was waiting to pick him up. It was an ordinary hand-off on an ordinary day, except I carried that soft, watchful question I always carry now, held quietly in my chest until the timing feels right. I asked if he…

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