Best Practice

Safeguarding: Disclosure is just the beginning

Safeguarding Pupil wellbeing Pastoral issues
The abuse that Rachel W experienced as a child continued for years until she finally disclosed at school. But disclosure is not the end of the nightmare. She writes here about her experiences post-disclosure…
Image: Adobe Stock -

It took me a long time to realise that my life was more important than the fear that surrounded the potential to lose it.

I remain incredibly thankful for my determined heart, which despite the constant threats, gave me the courage and bravery to partially disclose the abuse that was tormenting me.

Nonetheless, disclosure was only the start of my journey to safety. The complexities that surrounded the atrocities of both the abuse and the abusers took more than a year to entirely unravel.

I have previously written in SecEd about the abuse I suffered as a child, its impact on my life and education, and how I finally managed to disclose at age 14 despite the barriers I faced. I also spoke about disclosures during a recent episode of the SecEd Podcast.

Shortly after I reported one of my abusers to the deputy headteacher, I was interviewed by social workers and a child protection police officer. I was asked many questions that I didn't understand. I was overwhelmed and no longer able to speak. I remember the police officer leaving the room and then returning to tell me that my abuser had been arrested.

The man they arrested was my father.

That day I had already said so much, though barely anything. Mostly the detail was in my silences.

As I reflect now, I understand the look that the deputy head gave me. His quick actions had supported a very scared young teenage girl.

 

But what happens next?

School became the shield from danger I had craved without realising. It appeared that my situation had been communicated to all who I had contact with.

Teachers would regularly check in with me and I remember that this simple act gave me a sense of safety. I was also reassured by the headteacher that I would be safe from any harm in school. The perpetrator had been given a bind over with the condition of staying away from the school. I was reassured that all staff would ensure my safety.

Teachers started to respond differently towards me. I felt a sense of their authenticity, a level of understanding towards my situation.

I was attending school with a uniform that fit and that was clean, I wasn't hungry, and was able to concentrate more. I began to relax even though Christmas was looming.

It was decided around this time that I would have contact with my abuser. My social worker clearly meant well and must have felt the pressure my abuser had inflicted on the system.

Until this point I had felt that my partial disclosure was enough. But unfortunately, due to the level of contact and being “accommodated”, the fire of abuse and threat was reignited and the risk was higher than ever before.

I returned to school with fresh bruises and lacerations to my body.

I didn't know where I was going to be at Christmas due to being moved from foster placement to placement. Life was starting to feel worse than before, I got nearer to wanting to stop living again.

Then, one random day at school there was an assembly just for me. I was asked up on stage in front of my year group where I was presented with a sack full of Christmas gifts. The entire year group and teachers were clapping and cheering me. At this time I didn't fully understand, in hindsight I felt my first sense of belonging, a sense of community.

The assembly became the acknowledgement I needed. It gave me the strength and courage to begin full disclosure. Yes, I was in real danger, but I was no longer alone.

School cut me an immense amount of slack throughout the six months it took to make statements to the police. Sitting in a room with many adults and a video recorder didn't make me feel particularly safe, but I managed to find the words to describe what had happened.

The words they used were not the same as mine. They would use words like “rape”, “assault”, “paedophile ring” and many more which I will spare you having to read here. This is an important thing to remember about disclosures – children do not use the same words as professionals.

When I had no words, I would point or nod, by that stage I would be sick or pass out. We would then restart the next day.

The statements, videos and phone contact “traps” became the priority over school until further arrests were made and other children were placed into care. Towards the end of completing statements, I was moved away from my school to a different county. I had already moved foster homes 12 times as well as to two children’s homes, all because of and to prevent further harm.

A week after my last police doctor physical examination I took my GCSEs – in a spare room, invigilated by two social workers. This was an extraordinary measure taken due to the level of risk I faced. It was a decision that all the professionals had a hand in.

I remember feeling frustrated that I was unable to hold thoughts in my mind, I did my absolute best and on reflection have often wondered how well I would have done under different circumstances. I had by this stage been diagnosed with CPTSD (complex post-traumatic stress disorder). It was nothing short of incredible that I was able to attempt my exams.

Sadly, I was unable to return to the school, unable to say goodbye or thank you to my teachers and friends. On the day of the High Court judgement all connections with my family and childhood were severed. This was the only way to ensure my safety and, one day, my freedom. This was the day I lost everyone.

 

What went well?

A study from the NSPCC looked into disclosures during childhood. One of its many findings was that “disclosing abuse was a difficult journey with 90% of young people having had a negative experience” (NSPCC, 2019).

I am grateful for the response from my school all those years ago. They took an immediate pro-active approach to an extraordinarily complex situation. The school collaborated well with social workers and police to protect me.

The senior leadership communicated clearly with teachers and support staff. This gave consistency. Regular check-ins safeguarded me. The school was clearly holding me in mind and meeting their legal duty of care.

I felt a genuine reaction to my situation. Teachers responding authentically, affording me the chance to feel seen and heard.

Controversially, I stand by the effectiveness of involving peers and community members. The acknowledgement was now within the school community. Their atypical response led me to feel believed and in that profound moment, the conditioning of emotional abuse was dispelled long enough to gain courage and strength to disclose further.

A “secure base” was created within the educational setting, sustainable against the odds.

Most of all, what I remember was the sheer humanity expressed by the teachers’ responses – they became purpose-driven by the horrors I had suffered.

There was little talk and mostly actions where I could see their desire for school improvement and self-improvement.

One teacher had the capacity to apologise. She felt she had let me down and at the time this felt like a relief to me. Today, as I reflect on both my personal and professional life, I see very clearly and with perspective that picking up on behaviours and physical signs of abuse would have prevented me from some of the serious harms caused. Yes! But no teacher was responsible for the abuse and torture I endured just as in the same way I was not responsible for any of the abuse and torture I endured.

The only people who were responsible were the ones who had abused me.

  • Rachel W has a wealth of experience both personally and professionally in education, fostering, residential childcare and as an instructor for managing challenging behaviours within these settings. Rachel is an abuse survivor, thriver and currently the managing director of Animal Assisted Therapy for young people.

 

Further information & resources