When I picked up my son from his final year 12 exam at the start of this summer, I was definitely happy it was over and proud of him for getting through such a tough few weeks, but the biggest feelings I had were immense frustration and sadness that we aren’t doing better for the kids who don’t fit the mould.
Our son is autistic with severe anxiety and his experience of school has been heartbreaking at times. Many people did not think he’d get to the end of year 12, and there have been huge challenges along the way. As parents and teachers prepare for the new school year, it’s worth noting that it did not have to be this hard for my son, and there are many more kids like him that need better care.
Over his 13 years at school we struggled through drawn-out battles to get funding and support – with teachers, principals, the Education Department and the NDIS. We won every time because his medical records are crystal-clear, but it was an exhausting, confusing fight every time. He has had illegal school exclusions, bullying, teachers who think of themselves as inclusive but have no training or real understanding, and many teachers who think it’s just a phase and that he should try harder.
Peer understanding of autism is very poor. Other kids get irritated easily when he talks too much about a favourite topic and mistake his need to walk off stress and sensory overload for a lack of interest in them. There have been years when he was not invited to even one birthday party, and times when we have feared for his safety and mental health.
We have been at two primary schools and two secondary schools. Early in year 11, when a senior teacher described the allowance of extra time in exams as special treatment (again, despite medical evidence from several specialists), we considered moving schools again, but where would we go? Would that teacher say this to a student with poor vision who needed extra time, the kid using a wheelchair who needs a ramp? Autism has been described as the invisible disability, and it’s often badly misunderstood by teachers, the people whose support students most need.
During the exam season, while other parents were worrying about ATARs and whether their child will do well enough for this course or that, I was afraid he might not make it through the doors of school to even sit the exams, that he might come home, have a meltdown and be so full of anxiety and self-hate that he can’t get back to school. Not because he isn’t highly intelligent – every assessment says he is – but because he can’t get the support he needs to do well.
We’re not the only ones – there are many students who have a tough time at school and often don’t get the support they need: students with illness or poor mental health, students with family challenges. But these stories are not often told.
We’ve had some caring, insightful teachers who have made an immense difference (and I have made sure I thanked every one of them) but also many who don’t understand, don’t want to know, and have left both our son and us feeling isolated and rejected. Some teachers’ lack of understanding of autism and lack of willingness to be flexible have done actual harm, both to his success at school and his mental health.
If I could make those teachers understand just a couple of things about autistic students it would be that these kids overwhelmingly want to be at school, they want to be with their peers and they want to do well. But they learn differently from others and they need your help with that. Remember, autistic kids in mainstream settings typically don’t have barriers such as severe intellectual disability. They have the capacity to succeed, but we know they often don’t. They are many times more likely to be excluded or suspended or to drop out.
I want teachers to understand that most autistic kids are harder on themselves than you could ever be. As a medical specialist told us early on, anxiety is always in the driving seat. And anxiety and self-doubt don’t always look like the quiet, withdrawn student who is no trouble in class; it’s often the student who makes jokes when they shouldn’t. It’s the student who doesn’t ask questions, not because they don’t care, but because they’re scared. Who doesn’t hand work in because they’re worried it’s not quite right and doesn’t ask you for help.
Here’s another myth: that they choose to be loners or don’t want to join in. In those post-exam weeks, our son did not head off to schoolies or friends’ beach houses. He would have loved some kind of celebration with peers but wasn’t invited. Autistic kids are far more likely to experience bullying and social isolation than their peers.
I’m proud and happy that my son has got to the end of the school journey. We are delighted that he has been accepted into the course he chose and will start this year, but it should never be this hard, and we can do so much better. We need far better training and understanding for teachers, better understanding in the community, and a wider variety of school models to suit the needs of different learners.
In the current school system, we are wasting potential and causing unnecessary pain.
Clare Traub is a Melbourne writer.
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