Do We Build a New Door?

We're barely halfway through 2025, and already families are being told that enrollments for 2026 school year is full. Yep...full!

Education Support classrooms, designed for students who cannot attend mainstream are at capacity.

If your child didn’t get in, the door is closed. So where do they go?

For children who are medically complex, disabled, or neurodivergent,.but not a “mainstream fit” what’s the answer? Because right now, the answer seems to be: There isn’t one.

We talk about education like a menu of equal options: public, private, online, Montessori, homeschooling. But for many families of kids with disabilities, there’s no real choice.

So families are left “choosing” homeschooling not out of lifestyle preference, but out of sheer necessity. It’s not flexible learning. It’s survival.

Parents become teachers, aides, therapists, case managers. They coordinate everything from literacy to mobility aids, all while trying to work, raise siblings, and stay afloat.

And they do it because the system that promised inclusion left them on the doorstep.

What About the Disability-Focused Schools? Yes, there are independent schools dedicated to students with disability. And for some, they’re a lifeline, but they are not for everyone...and they're full too.

But take Kaedyn for example.

He’s clever, cheeky, vibrant, and wildly social. He thrives on connection, especially those mischievous school friendships that make learning joyful. He doesn’t just cope in a classroom, he lives for it.

But he doesn’t fit the traditional “specialist” school profile. He’s too complex for mainstream, too social for some support models, and too cognitively capable to be placed where he wouldn’t be challenged and I fear, he would regress into depression.

So once again, he falls into the crack between systems. A child who should be learning alongside others… ends up learning from the kitchen table.

Let’s be honest: the principal who let you down was probably heartbroken, too.

They didn’t say no because they didn’t care.

They said no because they’re out of room.

Out of aides.

Out of trained staff.

Out of time and resources.

Educators are being asked to ration support.

Families are being asked to cobble together home education with no backup.

And students are being asked to be invisible.

We’re all trying. But “trying” is not a solution. It’s a warning sign.

We Are Growing, so Why Isn’t the System?

Here’s the truth: our population is growing.

More families. More children. More diagnoses. More visibility around disability.

And still, no meaningful increase in Ed Support infrastructure.

Where are the new schools?

Where are the additional classrooms?

Where is the workforce expansion?

We need more than policy updates, we need brick and mortar.

We need new buildings. New staff. New resources. We need to treat this like the infrastructure emergency that it is.

Because saying “we’re working on it” is not enough when families are being told there’s no place for their child next year. We don’t need reassurances, we need actual space.

And the social cost of  what I now deem “Exclusion Schooling” (for some of us)....

I am fortunate to have a child who LOVES school.

Kaedyn loves his friends, his teachers, the routines, the classroom jokes, the lunchtime chaos. He loves being part of a community that feeds him mentally and emotionally.

School isn’t just about learning for him, it’s where he comes alive. When he’s surrounded by peers, he shines. He learns more. He self-regulates better. He laughs more...He thrives.

And that’s the part that breaks me, because when we’re told there’s no place for him next year, it’s not just a matter of curriculum. It’s a complete removal of the environment that helps him flourish.

Homeschooling, for some, is a choice. A lifestyle.

But for us? It’s not homeschooling.

It’s exclusion schooling.

It’s being cut off from friendships that help him grow.

It’s missing out on being part of a group, a team, a classroom, a world beyond our front door.

It’s being forced to say no to the very thing that makes him feel like he belongs.

If you feel like the system has left you behind, you’re not imagining it.

If you're tired of chasing schools, making desperate calls, and hearing “we’re full” you’re not alone.

If you're building an education plan at your dining table while holding back tears, you are not failing. You’ve been failed.

And while it should never fall on parents to fight for something as basic as a place to learn, we are here.

And we are fighting.