Every Monday morning in briefing, it happens.
Our deputy stands at the front, coffee in hand, PowerPoint glowing, and says the same thing:
“Attendance is a whole-school target. We need to drive attendance. We all need to push attendance to bring up the numbers.”
Cue the staffroom nodding. The silent agreement that yes, attendance is indeed a problem. And also, yes, we have absolutely no idea what we’re supposed to do about it.
Where Did Everyone Go?
Attendance in schools has fallen off a cliff since the pandemic.
Before COVID, the odd sick day or family trip was just that — an exception.
Now, it feels like half the country is off on “a well-being day.”
The truth is, the entire attitude towards school has changed.
Parents are increasingly prioritising their child’s mental health — or, more often, their child’s opinion — over attendance.
“Yeah, he didn’t feel like coming in today.”
“She was a bit tired, so we had a duvet day.”
“He wanted to stay home with the dog.”
And while it’s easy to roll our eyes, part of this is cultural.
Since the rise of remote work, children have watched their parents spend entire days in pyjamas, occasionally wandering to the fridge between Teams calls.
So why wouldn’t they think school could work the same way?
To them, staying home is no longer rebellion — it’s role modelling.
The National Crisis Nobody Knows How to Fix
Let’s call it what it is: a national crisis.
Children are missing more school than ever before, and no one really has an answer.
The government’s “plan” seems to be:
“The plan is… we need a new plan.”
It’s an ouroboros of policy — a snake eating its own tail while muttering “we need a multi-agency response.”
And schools? We’re left to fix it.
We’re now expected to get kids out of bed, into uniform, and through the front gates — which is quite the task when neither they nor their parents see the point.
Without literally driving to their house, dragging them out of bed, and buckling them into the back seat like a hostage in a hi-vis jacket (which, to be clear, is frowned upon in the safeguarding policy), there isn’t much we can do.
“But What Are You Doing About Attendance?”
That’s the question, isn’t it?
It’s the one every school leader dreads during an inspection.
“So, what are you doing about attendance?”
What are we doing about attendance?
Well, we’ve got a spreadsheet.
A very shiny spreadsheet.
It’s got colour coding, conditional formatting, and a graph that goes in the wrong direction.
We show it to the kids every week, like it’s a motivational tool.
“Tommy, your attendance is at 78%. That’s not great.”
Meanwhile, Tommy’s thinking:
“My Fortnite level’s gone up three tiers since last week. That’s progression.”
For him, attendance is just another game score — one he has absolutely no interest in improving.
And if you think that conversation motivates him, you’re sorely mistaken.
The Impossible Plan
There’s no plan.
Not a real one, anyway.
Because this problem sits outside the walls of the classroom.
It’s social. It’s cultural. It’s generational.
And yet somehow, it’s still being measured in performance management targets.
We can’t fix attendance by guilt-tripping teachers into pep talks.
We can’t “drive attendance” by shouting “drive attendance.”
And we definitely can’t solve a societal issue with an Excel file and a half-eaten box of Celebrations in the attendance office.
The truth is simple: teachers can inspire, support, and encourage — but we can’t teleport students out of bed.
Until the system recognises that attendance is a national issue, not a school issue, we’re going to keep being blamed for something we can’t control.
Final Thoughts
So maybe, instead of punishing schools for the country’s new “optional attendance culture,” we try something different.
Support parents. Fund proper interventions. Create environments where school feels relevant again.
Because right now, we’re just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic — except the Titanic is half-empty, the orchestra’s on strike, and Ofsted’s asking for your evidence log.
And until something changes, I’ll keep smiling politely in Monday briefing, nodding at the words “whole school target,” and quietly wondering whether next week I should just bring a tow rope and a megaphone.
Just to, you know, drive attendance.
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