Confessions of an inadvertent school refuser
If you’re interested to learn more about school refusal in relation to kids with autism, feel free to check out my notes from this Griffith Uni 2021 research presentation on the Resources page. The link to the research is included there as well as at the bottom of this page.
Primary school: the struggle begins
I really struggled with school. I left one primary school for another at the beginning of year 5 and on the cusp of puberty. I moved from an environment where I played on the playground and ran around with the boys and have a lot of physical fun, to a place where if you even looked at a boy you were clearly ‘in love’, and the girls just sat and talked, or ran away from people they don’t like. I didn’t realise this until years later, when it dawned on me that that might be a reasonable explanation as to why I’d go home most days crying about how my ‘friends’ ran away from me (again) and I’d spent my time wandering around the school trying to find them. The social rules were vastly confusing and it was not a happy time, though I did manage to find a couple of friends who entered the scene in year 7. I kept largely to myself, though constantly tried (and failed) to fit in. This was to be the narrative for the rest of my schooling. I never seemed to wear the ‘right’ clothes on casual clothes day, I was an average student, I shone in no particular area, but I survived. The one redeeming feature was that I could sing alto quite well and also added flute to my piano knowledge, this opening me up to external activities.
High school: nothing changes
High school was an extension of the primary school: same people, same problems, different campus. I was bullied by girls and boys alike and hated attending. I was rude and disrespectful to the teachers, not because I was rude and disrespectful by nature (I was actually quite a polite, quiet child, and believed in Jesus and using manners) however my brain was so confused and I simply didn’t know how to act. I kept misinterpreting signals and this, combined with puberty, resulted in a rather large authority issue. (To all those teachers to whom I was rude for no apparent reason: I apologise.) Regardless of my feelings in no way did I question whether I could or could not/should or should not attend school. It simply never occurred to me.
Becoming a school refuser
Thankfully my music ability saved the day. One of the first things I did when I entered year 8 (then the start of high school) was join the orchestra, and from there the choir, the chapel choir, the string ensemble, the stage band, and the musical cast or band. It gradually became my intention that by year 12 I would play in as many different ensembles on as many different instruments as I could. I even pretended to know how to play the cello, which had rather embarrassing consequences! My reasons? 1. It was a goal that I could achieve; 2. It made life interesting; and 3. It got me out of the classroom (a lot!). Music was my saviour in high school. That and my parent’s attitude. When I hit year 11 and became depressed and having suicidal thoughts, my parents negotiated to reduce my workload to help my mental health. Year 12 saw me having ‘mental health days’ where my Mum would let me take the day off and we’d go and do something else. She would also pick me up regularly from school and take me straight to the shops to have ‘a drink and a chat’. Invaluable. Thanks Mum. I did graduate with quite good grades, but it was hit-and-miss all year whether I would make it through.
A lightbulb moment
It dawned on me, while listening to a research presentation at university 20 years later, that I had been a school refuser. When you think ‘school refusal’ you imagine a child hiding under their bed refusing to go to school, however there are other types of refusal, including those children who attend school in body but not in mind. They are not participating, and are learning just as much as if they had stayed at home, which isn’t a whole heap (unless they’re homeschooled, of course).
Their behaviour might be (intentionally or unintentionally) preventing them from working (eg. they are sent to another class, internally suspended, hide under a desk).
They might sit at their desk but not actually do any work (eg. they’re zoned out or fall asleep).
They find others ways of getting out of the classroom (eg. sport and music or other extra curricular activities).
Yep, that third one was me. I probably spent more of year 11 and 12 outside of the classroom in some musical activity than inside of it. Even during recess and lunch I would rarely sit with others, choosing instead to go to the music suite and practise an instrument (never the cello though – that might have helped if I had!). I did all my work for homework, obtaining, as I said before, quite good marks, however I avoided the classroom and associating with peers as much as possible.
Is your child a school refuser?
School can be really hard for any child but especially those who are neurodiverse. Keep checking in with your child and making sure they’re ok. School refusal doesn’t always look the way you think it looks. It may be more appropriate to call it ‘school participation’, to catch those kids who are not just refusing in body, but also quietly in their mind. They might even be like me and not realise that it’s not talent but survival instincts when they’re joining every band they can think of. If that’s the case, may I recommend cello lessons?
Don’t forget to check out my notes in the resource area on the research presentation I attended. Here is the link to the research itself:
The research summary can be found here:
The full study can be found here: