As a foster carer since the early 2000s, I’ve witnessed the human cost of Britain’s broken SEND (special educational needs and disabilities) system at close quarters: children sent home after uncontrollable outbursts in class, or simply crumpling into a heap at the end of the school day because their needs go unmet. So when Keir Starmer took to the airwaves this week, pledging a £4 billion overhaul of the SEND system, inspired by his late brother’s struggles, I wanted to believe it was the lifeline these children deserve.
A growing minority of well-advised parents have learnt how to navigate, and sometimes game, the system to secure one-to-one teaching
But let’s not kid ourselves, this “generational” reform is as much a desperate bid to curb spiralling costs as it is about inclusion. And if we’re serious about fixing a setup that’s failing the most vulnerable, like my eight-year-old foster son Jack, ripping up classrooms while his EHCP (education, health and care plan) application gathers dust, we need brutal honesty, not spin.
Jack’s story is an indictment of the current mess. Born addicted to crack cocaine, his needs are not subtle. When schoolwork feels “too hard,” he refuses to engage, disrupts lessons, and sometimes requires the entire class to be evacuated while staff attempt to calm him down.
His teachers see how severe his needs are. His classmates, who would quite like to learn about the Tudors without him jigging around on top of their desks, see it. Even the dinner ladies notice. The SENCO (special educational needs coordinator) described his EHCP application as “an open and shut case”, but the local authority rejected it. Why? Partly because a growing minority of well-advised parents have learnt how to navigate, and sometimes game, the system to secure one-to-one teaching, extra tutoring or exam concessions. So genuine cases like Jack’s get pushed to the back of the queue, allowing crises to escalate and ultimately costing far more in reactive interventions.
The government’s Schools White Paper promises specialist support in every mainstream school, ditching one-size-fits-all for tailored help. From 2029, schools get direct funding pots – £1.6 billion for an “inclusive mainstream fund” and £1.8 billion for on-demand experts like speech therapists and educational psychologists. Starmer talks of “tailored support on your doorstep”, slashing EHCPs for milder cases to focus on the complex. It sounds compassionate, but it’s primarily about curbing the explosion in applications and appeals that has made the system financially unsustainable.
When a local authority denies an EHCP, families face mediation. I’ve attended a fair few of these tense meetings to advocate for a child in my care, where harried SEND officers try to persuade parents or carers to back down. Savvier families, often guided by independent advocates, play along, then remind everyone of their legal rights. Sometimes the local authority concedes immediately, other times it drags on, hoping resolve will crack before tribunal.
At tribunals, judges rule purely on the child’s best interests, cost be damned, so of course, a bespoke support package wins every time. Parents triumphed in a staggering 98–99 per cent of cases in the academic year 2024/25, according to Ministry of Justice statistics, leaving Local Authorities footing bigger bills for the fight than the EHCP itself would cost. No wonder appeals hit a record 25,000 last year.
The same sorry tale plays out with Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services (CAMHS). Inundated with demands for ADHD and autism assessments, waiting lists are a national scandal. Over half-a-million children languish on them. For autism, only one in 20 under-18s gets a first appointment within the recommended 13 weeks; for ADHD, six in ten wait over a year. I had to rope in my MP to secure an initial slot for my adopted daughter, Megan, who has Foetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD). The psychiatrist immediately spotted her needs, suspecting a complex mix of autism and ADHD. Yet we’ve waited a year on the screening list, with another 18 months likely ahead. Meanwhile, Megan teeters on the edge of permanent exclusion, and I’m black and blue from her uncontrollable outbursts. She can’t help it, and the system won’t help her.
Teachers cannot be social workers, therapists, behaviour specialists and educators all at once
When support is delayed or denied, the consequences cascade. Behaviour worsens, parents burn out, families fracture, and the state pays dearly for crisis intervention rather than early help. Adoption disruption figures illustrate this gut-wrenching story. Between 2018 and 2024, around 2.5 per cent of placements broke down before an adoption order was granted, 479 children uprooted all over again. Record numbers of adoptive families now report “severe challenges”, with teenagers in acute crisis making up half the cases.
Rising SEND identifications partly reflect better awareness and diagnosis, but too often the system amplifies rather than alleviates the strain. So perhaps it’s time to say the unsayable: not every child will excel academically. Some thrive in sports, arts, vocational paths, or sheer resilience, and their worth is equal. We must trust teachers to gatekeep. Megan’s head and class teacher supported my EHCP bid because her needs were plain, but they’ve confided how some parents pressure them into endorsing unnecessary claims. Make teacher endorsement mandatory. If they say no, the application stops.
And confront the elephant in the room: screens. Some children arrive at reception unable to string a sentence together, zombified by iPads. Nearly one in five pupils now has identified SEND, but not every developmental delay is neurological. I’ve cared for dozens of children over the years and seen firsthand that many struggles with speech, language, and attention are environmental and often reversible. As Alexander Den Heijer put it, “When a flower doesn’t bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower.”
Take Liam, a toddler I fostered: so glued to cartoons on the iPad that he’d swipe at toys, or sometimes even thin air, thinking they were touchscreens. I eased him off the device gradually, swapping it for stacking cups, picture books, and real, face-to-face chatter. Weeks of peekaboo, nursery rhymes, and undivided attention later, his halting words bloomed into full sentences, followed by a relentless barrage of the “Why, Rosie, whys?” that showed me he was finally engaging with the world. Fix the soil early, and growth follows, often faster and more naturally than any specialist intervention.
The reforms could be a start, but even the National Education Union has warned that £4 billion is “a drop in the bucket”. It only takes one or two children in acute distress – one or two “Jacks” – to bring an entire classroom to a halt. However the funding is sliced, however many expert teams are promised on paper, teachers will still be standing in front of thirty children, trying to deliver fractions or phonics while managing trauma, dysregulation and, increasingly, a profound lack of boundaries.
When Jack dysregulates and a classroom is cleared, it isn’t just him who loses out. It’s twenty-nine other children. Teachers cannot be social workers, therapists, behaviour specialists and educators all at once. If this government wants lasting change, it must level with parents as well as schools. Be honest about the role of home life, discipline and screens. Only then will SEND return to what it was always meant to be: a lifeline for children who simply cannot function without it.
The names of children mentioned in this article have been changed
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