27/02/2026
Her secondary school had done what many schools do.
They’d arranged a support hub ✅
They’d written down the adjustments✅
They’d documented the strategies✅
They’d ticked the boxes✅
On paper, it looked good.
If she felt overwhelmed in class, she could go to the hub.
Simple.
Except it wasn’t.
When she arrived, she was met with neutral faces.
No smile.
No “You’re okay.”
No warmth.
Just… flat.
Now, some might say that’s reading too much into it.
But here’s what I know after 25 years of supporting autistic young people:
They might find social rules confusing.
They might struggle to interpret subtle facial expressions.
But they absolutely know when something doesn’t feel right🙌🏼
They feel the shift in energy.
They sense the exasperation hiding behind the support.
And even when they can’t explain it, their nervous system already has.
If she did go to the hub, it didn’t last long.
There was a subtle urgency.
“Let’s get you back to class.”
“Off you go.”
Support, but on a timer ⏱️
Respite, but only briefly 😑
Safety, but conditional 😔
So eventually?
She stopped going.
From the outside, it might have looked like she wasn’t engaging with her support.
But it wasn’t that.
It was self-protection.
Because support isn’t just a room.
It isn’t just provision written into a document.
It’s a feeling.
And when a young person gathers every ounce of courage to leave a lesson because they are overwhelmed, the response they meet matters.
A soft face matters.
A calm tone matters.
A genuine “You’re safe here” matters.
Without that?
The support hub becomes just another place they don’t belong.
That’s not a paperwork problem.
That’s a relational one.
Patsy x💜💙
We brought this to the school’s attention- she’s still reluctant to go, but it’ll take time to rebuild trust 🙏🏼
