I got the call more times than I can count about my kids being chronically absent.
“We just want to make sure we can help remove any barriers to attendance.”
Barriers.
I used to sit with that word after hanging up.
Because yes — there were barriers.
Just not the ones they were looking for.
Have you ever noticed that “chronic” usually means something that can’t be cured?
Chronic pain. Chronic illness.
So when the school labeled my kids “chronically absent,” I think they accidentally told the truth.
Because the thing keeping them home?
The school couldn’t fix it.
Understanding the Real Barriers to Attendance
The noise in the hallways that sent my child into sensory overload before first period even started. The fluorescent lights that hummed all day long. The constant transitions, the unpredictability, the chaos of 30 kids in one room. Can a school fix that?
Not really. Not for a child whose nervous system experiences it as an emergency — every single day.
Imagine a child with sensory processing disorder. The sound of chairs scraping on the floor, the echo of voices in a gym, or even the smell of the cafeteria can be overwhelming. These aren’t just minor inconveniences; they are significant barriers that make attending school a daily struggle.
And then there was the other thing that broke my heart.
When my ADHD child couldn’t sit still — couldn’t, not wouldn’t — the consequence was losing recess. The one part of the day their body actually needed. Taken away as punishment for being exactly who they are.
Consider a child with ADHD who thrives on movement. Recess is not just playtime; it’s a necessary outlet for pent-up energy. Removing it as a punishment is counterproductive and only adds to the stress of being in a classroom setting.
Bullying and Social Challenges
Bullying was its own chapter.
Autistic kids often don’t pick up on the unwritten social rules that everyone else seems to just know. They get left out. Made fun of. Sometimes targeted.
And the school’s solution was to pull my child aside and coach them on “fitting in better.” As if the problem was that they weren’t trying hard enough to be someone else.
Imagine a child who struggles to interpret social cues. They might not understand why their attempts to join a group are met with rejection. This isn’t about not trying; it’s about not having the tools to succeed in an environment that doesn’t accommodate them.
I don’t say any of this to be angry at teachers.
Most of the teachers we met were kind, tired, doing their best inside a system that wasn’t designed for our kids.
The system was the problem.
And no amount of calls home was going to change that.
Why We Chose Homeschooling
So yes — my kids were chronically absent. Because chronic means it doesn’t go away. And a school building that is fundamentally incompatible with how your child’s brain works? That doesn’t go away either.
The barriers weren’t at home. The barriers were structural. Built into every bell, every fluorescent bulb, every “sit down and focus” and “you lost recess today.”
Once I really understood that — really let myself see it — everything changed.
I stopped trying to fix my kids.
And I started building something that actually fit them.
Homeschooling allowed us to create a learning environment tailored to their needs. We could control the sensory input, provide breaks as needed, and focus on their strengths rather than their challenges. For example, my child who loves nature could spend time learning science outdoors, turning a potential barrier into a source of joy and engagement.
That’s why we homeschool. And that’s why Schoolio exists.
Lindsey
certified special-ed educator, homeschooling mom, & co-founder of Schoolio