Grieving Parent
When we applied for our daughter’s secondary school place, we had no idea how broken and painful the school admissions process could be. We were led to believe, along with many other families that putting our preferred school as first choice would guarantee a place. We are not naive to the fact that first choice does not always mean a guarantee however the school’s own leadership had openly said they had never turned away a first-choice applicant and that putting them first would get our daughter a place. We trusted that.
That trust was shattered.
Our daughter was refused a place at the only local school offering the combination of subjects she needs to pursue her career ambition, subjects she excels in and loves. We believed that a fair appeals process would recognise her individual case. We were wrong.
We poured ourselves into the appeal. We provided clear evidence that her academic, emotional and aspirational needs were best served by this school.
She has specific educational needs that only this school could meet. It offers the subjects she is passionate about and excels in, including those tied directly to her career aspirations. Beyond the academics, this school was the right environment for her emotional wellbeing. She struggles with anxiety and the thought of being separated from her established support network of friends and familiar faces has deeply affected her. We applied not out of preference but out of necessity, because this school was the only place where she could truly thrive. But when we received the appeal outcome, it was as if none of that mattered. The rejection letter gave no personal explanation, only a generic statement: the school is full. That’s precisely why we appealed.
The whole process felt cold and careless. There was no guidance, no preparation, and no effort to make the experience supportive. At the appeal itself, we felt as if we were speaking into a void, presenting not just our case, but our daughter’s future, to a panel that had already made their minds up. One particular panel member repeatedly turned their camera off which was both distracting and concerning. It made us question whether our case was being given the full attention it deserved, particularly during such a critical and emotionally charged process for our family.
The clerk closed the session by saying, “I’m sure your daughter will flourish at whichever school she attends.” Those words, spoken after we poured out our hopes, our fears, and all the reasons this placement mattered, completely dismissed our efforts. The appeals code states that the final words of the appeal should be that of the parents. It felt like a final, polite rejection, as if the outcome had already been decided.
What makes this even more troubling is that the school in question is now planning to introduce aptitude tests in performing arts and football. Even though these are being introduced in small numbers, the damage is far-reaching. Each place given under this system is a place taken away from another local child. A child who may not have the exact talents the school is now prioritising, but who still deserves a chance.
Worse still is the pressure this adds to young children. Imagine being ten or eleven years old, passionate about music or football or drama, only to take a test and be told you’re not “good enough” for a school you dreamed of. That’s not just a blow to a child, it cuts deep into their sense of self-worth. And they don’t carry that disappointment alone. They carry their parent’s disappointment too. As parents we build these hopes with them. We encourage them to aim high, and we assure them that effort will lead to opportunity. But in a system where children are reduced to numbers, and where selection is creeping in through the back door, that promise is broken.
For us, the consequences have been devastating. Our daughter is not the same. Her confidence is gone. Her motivation, once so strong, has faded. She no longer wants to talk about her future, and she dreads starting at a school where she won’t be able to study the subjects she loves. It has affected her health, her emotional wellbeing, and the atmosphere in our home. We’ve tried to stay strong for her, but we are struggling too. We are fearful, heartbroken, and deeply disillusioned.
We have contacted our local MP, the Department for Education, and local press. But we’re painfully aware that without hard evidence, like a recording or transcript of what was said at the hearing, our hands are tied. We can’t prove how dismissive the process felt. We can’t prove that her case wasn’t individually considered, even though that’s how it appeared. The appeals process is meant to be a safeguard, a fair and independent route for children who have been overlooked. But in reality, it feels like a gate that’s firmly locked, with parents and children kept on the other side.
This should not be happening in our education system. The use of aptitude tests, particularly in academies, is a form of selection that flies in the face of equality and fairness. It disproportionately favours children whose families can afford coaching, or who have inside knowledge of the system. And it reduces admissions to a competition, a game of winners and losers, rather than a process rooted in children’s real needs.
We’re just a normal family. We’ve never sought special treatment. We’ve never needed to shout to be heard. But now, we’re shouting because we’ve been silenced and left powerless, feeling like a failure to our daughter.
Our daughter deserved better. She deserved to have her case fully and fairly considered. She deserved to be treated as a person, not a statistic. She deserved the opportunity to study the subjects that make her feel alive and inspired.
We are speaking out because we cannot stand by while this continues. No family should have to go through what we have, to watch their child be stripped of hope by a system that’s supposed to lift them up.
We urge campaigners and policymakers to push back against selection in all its forms. To demand transparency, compassion, and fairness in appeals. And to ensure that no child’s future is ever again decided by a process that sees them as anything less than worthy.
