Bells, a timetable, a teacher at the front, other people visibly working: all of that was taking some of the load. At home the load falls on whoever is nearest, usually a parent who now has to be the timetable, and prompting from someone you love lands far worse than prompting from a building. Rebuild a little of the outside structure, a fixed start time, a set place, a list written by someone other than the parent, so the relationship is not carrying it alone.

Short absences often sort themselves out. Once a fortnight has gone, the pattern has usually begun to set, and the amount of practice needed to undo it grows with every week after that. If it has been many months, ask about something more intensive than a weekly session, because the arithmetic is unforgiving: coming back takes repeated goes at the frightening thing, and an hour on a Tuesday does not supply enough of them.

Low mood makes school heavy rather than dangerous: no energy, no interest, everything asking too much. Staying away helps at first and then takes away the walk, the friend at break, the one lesson they liked, and the flatness deepens. With this pattern the work is less about facing fear and more about putting small good things back into the day on purpose, before the mood improves rather than after.

Fear of a whole building cannot be practised. Fear of walking into the dining hall at half past twelve can. Make each step small enough to be boring and specific enough to be put in a diary, and notice what quietly comes along as a prop: the friend who always walks with them, the phone in the hand, the seat nearest the door. Those helps are fine early and need dropping later, or the step never quite counts.

This one is hard to see precisely because the soothing is kind and the distress is real. The usual shape is a fought over morning, the child stays, and the day then holds company, cuddles and calm that no school day ever would. None of this says stop comforting your child. It means moving the warmth so it is not lined up behind staying home: plenty of time together in the evening, and a plainer, quieter morning.

Without that sentence, asking someone to face a frightening thing looks like cruelty, and every conversation about it goes badly. With it, the choice comes into view: a hard hour now, or a fear that quietly grows while you wait. It helps to be specific about the price, so it becomes a real account of what these months of staying away have cost rather than a vague warning.

Hovering, chatting, sitting alongside them with a cup of tea: all of it is lovely, and all of it makes the day at home better than the day at school. Think of the role as a teacher watching a study period, present and pleasant and not much fun. Then be properly warm once the school day is over, when it costs nothing and everyone needs it.

Ten minutes, twice a day, with a return to lessons afterwards, is a support. Open ended visits from the first flutter of nerves onwards teach a very efficient lesson about how to end a difficult morning. Say the limits to the child as well, so it feels like an arrangement they are part of rather than something tightened behind their back.

A hug at the door and a hand on the back on the way to the car sit on the side of going. A whole afternoon of being looked after because they did not manage it sits on the other side, however natural it feels. The question to hold is what the warmth is attached to, rather than how much of it there is.

It goes wrong easily. Someone gets hurt, a younger sibling watches it happen, and a child learns that the adults will use force, which is not a lesson you can take back afterwards. With a teenager it is off the table on grounds of size and safety alone. When a plan seems to need it, that is usually a sign the earlier steps were too big rather than a sign the child needs handling.