When Information Becomes Gatekept: A System That Still Doesn’t Trust Parents

In the past few weeks, I’ve been supporting a parent through a Local Authority appeal after a “no to issue” decision for her child’s EHCP. It’s a familiar story — a child with clear, complex needs, already excluded from one early years setting, now due to start Reception in September. A child who is, quite literally, at risk of exclusion before he even walks through the door. And yet the system that is supposed to protect him seems to be doing the opposite.

What has struck me most is not just the decision itself, but the silence around it. This mum has not been given copies of his specialist teacher reports from the setting he was excluded from. She doesn’t know whether he still has specialist teacher involvement at his new setting. She wasn’t sent a copy of the Educational Psychologist’s report. She is piecing together her child’s story with missing chapters — chapters that professionals have written about him, but not shared with her.

And I keep coming back to the same question: Why is the system still so reluctant to share information with parents?

This isn’t an isolated case. Even in the service I’ve just left — a service I respect deeply — reports were routinely sent directly to school. Parents only received them if they knew to ask. Not because anyone was trying to hide anything, but because the system is built around schools as the primary point of contact, the primary holder of information, the primary interpreter of a child’s needs. Parents are expected to orbit around that, hoping the right documents are passed on, hoping nothing gets lost, hoping someone remembers to include them.

But hope is not a system.

When a child has already been excluded, when their needs are complex, when their future school placement is at risk before it begins, parents should not have to chase scraps of information. They should not have to guess whether a specialist teacher is still involved. They should not have to appeal a decision without the very reports that informed it. They should not be left out of conversations that shape their child’s trajectory.

And yet this is exactly what happens — not because individuals are uncaring, but because the structure itself is built on an outdated assumption: that professionals know best, and parents are recipients rather than partners.

But parents are not passive observers. They are the constant. They are the historians of their child’s development, the witnesses to every meltdown, every breakthrough, every pattern that professionals see only in fragments. They are the ones who carry the emotional labour of navigating a system that often feels like it was designed without them in mind.

When reports are withheld — intentionally or not — it creates a power imbalance. It leaves parents disempowered at the very moment they need clarity. It undermines trust. And it reinforces a message that has echoed through SEND systems for decades: We will tell you what you need to know, when we decide you need to know it.

But this isn’t safeguarding. It isn’t professionalism. It isn’t collaboration. It’s gatekeeping.

And gatekeeping harms children.

Because when parents don’t have the full picture, they can’t advocate effectively. When they don’t know what’s been written, they can’t correct inaccuracies. When they don’t see the recommendations, they can’t ensure they’re implemented. When they don’t receive the evidence, they can’t challenge decisions that are wrong.

This mum is fighting for an EHCP for a child who has already been excluded once. A child who needs support, understanding, and a plan that reflects his reality. And yet she is doing so without the very documents that describe that reality. It is an impossible position — and one that too many parents find themselves in.

The irony is that every SEND code of practice, every training session, every policy document talks about partnership. Co‑production. Collaboration. “Working with families.” But partnership cannot exist when one side holds all the information and the other has to ask permission to see it.

If we truly believe in child‑centred practice, then transparency should be the default, not the exception. Reports should go to parents automatically. Specialist teachers should communicate directly with families as well as schools. Educational Psychologists should share their findings with the people who know the child best. And services should stop assuming that schools will always pass things on — because too often, they don’t.

Not out of malice. Out of busyness. Out of overwhelm. Out of systems that were never designed with parents at the centre.

But children need parents at the centre. They need parents who are informed, empowered, and included. They need systems that trust families enough to share information openly. They need professionals who recognise that collaboration is not a courtesy — it is a necessity.

Because when information is withheld, children fall through the gaps. When parents are excluded, needs are misunderstood. And when the system prioritises process over partnership, the very children it claims to support are the ones who pay the price.