Attendance is easy to count, which is why plans get built around it. A plan that only presses for attendance leaves the frightening thing exactly where it was, so whatever compliance you win tends to collapse within a fortnight. Spend the first while finding out what the fear is made of: a person, a subject, a corridor, a test, or simply being away from home.

Anxiety climbs as the return gets close and peaks somewhere near the doorway, then it comes down, but only for someone who stays long enough to find that out. Put the supports in place before the date arrives: who meets them, where they can go if it gets too much, what the first hour actually asks. Deciding all of that on the morning, in tears, rarely goes well.

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.

A new school, a timetable that split them from their friends, someone who made the corridor unsafe, an exam, a long illness, a death at home, a separation. Each of those either takes away something that made the place feel safe or adds something that makes it feel dangerous. Once you know which, you know what the plan has to reach eventually, and what it can leave well alone.

A technique that sounds right is not the same as one aimed at whatever is holding the problem in place. Ask what the hours at home actually contain, who is there, what is gained and what is escaped. The answers point at the plan, and they save months spent doing something perfectly reasonable to the wrong target.

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.

Anxiety work goes nowhere against this, because there is little anxiety left to work on. What changes it is the shape of the day, with the good things sitting after the effort rather than instead of it, so home stops being the more comfortable option by a mile. Do it calmly and with the young person in the conversation, because done as punishment it just becomes a different fight.

In the moment it is happening, a parent is not weighing up what gets learned over a term. They are trying to end the distress in front of them, and letting the child stay home does that immediately, for everyone. Time spent making sure the adults really understand why that relief costs so much is not preamble, it is the part that holds when the morning gets loud.

Home thinks the school did not act. The school thinks home is not firm. Both usually have a point, and neither point can be settled quickly enough to help this child this term. Meanwhile a plan applied one way at home and another way at school teaches a young person exactly where the gap is, and they will use it, not from malice but because it is there.

Grievances between families and schools rarely resolve on the timeline a child needs. Naming a goal that sits above the dispute lets everyone move without conceding, and it usually changes the tone of the next meeting more than any evidence either side brought along. Write down the shared goal and the next three practical steps, then send it to both parties so it exists outside the room.

Ask the school which pieces genuinely have to be made up and which can be written off, and get the answer in writing. What is left should be small enough to see the end of. Nothing undoes a hard first day back quite like sitting down at four o'clock in front of eleven weeks of catching up.

Explain the pattern rather than the pupil: the relief that follows getting out of something, and the way that relief quietly books the next absence. Staff who understand it stop reading a pale, silent child as rude, and they become the people delivering most of the help, since nearly all of it happens in the building rather than in a clinic. Twenty minutes at a staff meeting is well spent.

The test for any adjustment is simple. Does it get them into the room and keep them there, or does it save them from the room? A shortened day that ends with three lessons attended is practice at the real thing. A note excusing attendance altogether is the opposite, however sympathetic it sounds. Ask for the ones that make the step smaller, and put them in writing through whatever formal plan your school uses.

With an older teenager this goes better as a conversation about arrangements than about character: the wifi and the console sit behind the school day, and afterwards they are theirs. Say what is changing, say when it starts, and hold it evenly whether the day went well or badly. Expect a rough fortnight, and expect it to be shorter if you have not delivered any of it as a punishment.

Ask what they think would help, what they would want in return, and what feels unfair about the current version. You are not handing over the goal, which stays as attendance, only the details, and the details are what makes a teenager keep to it in a bad week. Write the agreement down, put both names on it, and revisit it rather than rewriting it after every row.