A child who dreads school isn't always trying to avoid lessons. Sometimes they're trying to avoid something much harder.
Towards the end of every summer, there comes a moment when parents tentatively begin mentioning school again. It might be while sorting through drawers to see whether last year's uniform still fits, or standing in a shoe shop wondering how a child's feet could possibly have grown quite so much in six weeks.
For some children, it's all part of the excitement. They can't wait to see their friends, compare summer stories, or fill a new pencil case with freshly sharpened pencils.
For others, however, the mood shifts almost overnight. A child who has been chatty and carefree all summer suddenly goes quiet whenever school is mentioned. They insist their shoes don't fit, even though they wore them perfectly happily in June, or complain of mysterious stomach aches that seem to appear whenever the conversation turns to the first day back. It is easy to put it down to vacation ending. After all, who wouldn't rather stay in pajamas than sit through a math lesson?
Yet for some children, those dragging feet have very little to do with saying goodbye to summer, or those shoes that don't fit.
They may be worrying about lessons that leave them feeling as though everyone else understands except them. They may be wondering who they'll sit next to at lunch, whether anyone will choose them in PE, or how they'll cope with another year of playground politics.
Some are returning to classrooms where they have been bullied, while others are simply exhausted by the constant effort of trying to fit in. And for children with additional needs, the return to noisy corridors, changing routines, and sensory overload can feel overwhelming long before the school gates come into view.
The temptation for parents is to leap straight into problem-solving. We have a natural tendency to reassure and remind them that everything will be fine. We might point out that they enjoyed school eventually last year. And how many parents have promised their children that they'll "soon settle in"?
Untangle those feelings
Sometimes those reassurances are exactly what's needed. At other times, they come a little too quickly. A child who says, "I hate school," isn't always asking us to fix the problem immediately. Often, they're asking us to understand it first.
That may mean resisting the urge to answer -- and becoming curious instead. What is it about school that feels so difficult? Is there one subject they dread? One part of the day they wish they could skip? One person they're worried about seeing? Children don't always have the vocabulary to explain what's wrong, but gentle questions, asked without rushing to reassure or correct, can gradually help them untangle feelings that have become one overwhelming knot.
Once we know what lies behind the dread, we are in a much better position to help. If they're struggling academically, a conversation with their teacher may make all the difference. If friendships have broken down, they may need help rebuilding confidence rather than simply being told to "join in."
If bullying is involved, they need to know that they won't be facing it alone. And if school simply feels overwhelming, acknowledging that reality is often the first step towards helping them cope with it.
As Catholics, you can offer your children something else as well. The school day will always contain things that cannot be controlled: difficult classmates, disappointing grades, misunderstandings and setbacks. What you can remind them of, again and again, is that none of those things determine their worth.
They are loved by God before they answer a single question correctly, before they win a race, before they're chosen by a group of friends. That quiet certainty doesn't remove every fear, but it gives children somewhere solid to stand when everything else feels uncertain.
Most children will walk through the school gates over the next few weeks, whether eagerly or reluctantly. Your job isn't to pretend that school is wonderful if, for them, it isn't. It's to help them carry whatever they're walking in with, while reminding them that they never have to carry it on their own.
