"I want to try school again..."

When we’re raising PDA kids, or any kids with school-related trauma, one of the hardest moments can be when they say:

“I want to try school again.”

On the surface, that might sound hopeful. Brave. Promising.

But as parents, our bodies can remember what school cost them last time. And of course, what it cost us.

The dysregulation. The burnout. The family in crisis. The months or years it took to stabilise again. We may not even be fully out of survival mode yet.

And still, they want to try.

As our kids get older, for many, friendships deepen. Many of their peers go to school. Some stay connected online. It can start to feel, to them, like school is the missing piece. The thing that will make them fit in. The thing that will make them “normal.” The thing that will make the loneliness ease.

Meanwhile, they may not want to attend home ed groups or unschooled meetups, sometimes because anxiety makes that impossible. It can be up and down. So from their perspective, school can start to look like the only doorway back into belonging.

And this is where it becomes such a painful, lose-lose space for parents.

If we say no, we risk becoming the barrier. PDA kids in particular can struggle to let go of what feels like blocked autonomy. They may circle back later and hold us responsible for the opportunity they didn’t get.

If we say yes, we may be walking them, and ourselves, back into something that nearly broke all of us before.

All the while, we are working so hard behind the scenes. Creating low demand environments. Using declarative language. Reducing threat responses. Coordinating therapeutic supports. Scaffolding regulation. Protecting recovery time. We know how much it takes to rebuild them when they’re depleted. They often don’t, because they should not have to carry that weight.

And yet, we also want to honour their agency. We want them to trust themselves. To know we trust them. To feel respected as autonomy-seeking humans making decisions about their own lives.

It’s such a complicated dance.

Sometimes there isn’t a clean answer. Sometimes there isn’t a right choice. Sometimes it’s just about being in the tension and moving through it slowly, collaboratively, with as much safety as we can build around the edges.

Of course things may work out. This is why we take that chance and honour their hopes and dreams for the quality of life they long for. And then, for some, the risk is too great; or things don't work out. But it's never because they didn't try enough or because there's something wrong with them.

If you’re in this space right now, holding your breath while your child revisits something that once hurt them deeply, I see you.

I know how hard this is.

And I know you are doing the very best you can with the information, experience, and love you have.

KF