Davies & The Schools Bill

A Father, A Campaigner, And A Fob-Off From My MP

Let me introduce myself. I wear two hats that, in an ideal world, wouldn’t need to exist. First, I’m the dad of an amazing, disabled child. We’ve battled for every scrap of support, navigated the labyrinth of the EHCP process, and learned that “parental choice” is often a bureaucratic fiction. Second, I’m the Disability Officer for my local Green Party, trying to channel that hard-won experience into fighting for systemic change.

So when I read the proposed Children’s Wellbeing and Schools Bill, my blood ran cold.

It wasn’t abstract policy; it was a blueprint for my family’s nightmare. Like many Telford and Wrekin residents, I saw three glaring threats: the power for councils to trap a child in a harmful school, the criminalisation of exhausted parents, and a brutal, disproportionate hammer-blow to SEND families already on the brink.

I wrote to our MP, Shaun Davies. I laid it out, not as a theorist, but as a father living this reality.

His reply landed with a thud of polished disappointment.

It was, on the surface, impeccably polite. He was “sympathetic,” he “acknowledged my concerns,” and he thanked me for my perspective. He even offered some clarifications: the penalties aren’t monetary fines (they’re School Attendance Orders), and the government’s intent is to protect children. He supports the Children Not in School register as a “safety net” and affirms, in principle, parental autonomy.

And that’s where it stopped. The response was a masterclass in political cotton wool—soft, bundling, and designed to smother pointed questions without leaving a mark.

My core fear? 

That a council could use this Bill to block any parent from removing a child from a setting where they are demonstrably failing, suffering, or worse—especially under the shadow of a Section 47 investigation. Did Mr Davies engage with this terrifying veto power? No. He talked about registers. A complete sidestep.

My terror about the shift from “suitable education” to the vague, subjective idea of whether school would be “better”? He reassured me the intent wasn’t to criminalise.

But intent isn’t law. The law would change the standard, handing over a new weapon to overstretched councils. He didn’t touch that philosophical shift. Not a word.

And the glaring, two-tier injustice for disabled kids? 

He acknowledged SEND children need “specialised support.” Well, thank you. We know. What he didn’t acknowledge was that this Bill’s mechanisms will fall heaviest on those same families, policing and punishing us for a system’s failures. No commitment to review, to amend, to protect. Just an empty nod.

As the Green Party’s Disability Officer, I have to measure this coldly. 

Politically, it was moderately responsive—a gold star for empathy. Substantively, it was a desert. He used generalities (“support,” “safety net”) to avoid the specific, dangerous clauses. He was transparent about his support for the registers, but utterly opaque on how he’d vote on the Bill itself or if he’d fight for amendments. He “bore my views in mind,” which is political code for filing them in the bin marked “Handled.”

The overall evaluation is clear: a 5/10. A courtesy response, adequate as a bureaucratic transaction, but a profound failure of representation. It reassures but does not engage; it sympathises but does not commit.

From my perspective as a father, it’s more than a disappointment. It’s a signal. It tells me that the most visceral, serious fears of parents like me—fears forged in years of fighting for our children’s basic right to thrive—are being met with political caution, not courage. Our lived reality is being smoothed over with polite language until it’s shapeless and safe to ignore.

So, what now? 

The recommendation is right. We must go back. We must ask for voting intentions, demand clarity on council powers, and push for the “better education” standard to be challenged in debate. We’ll do that. We’re used to fighting.

But today, I’m just a dad, reading an MP’s carefully worded letter, and feeling the vast gulf between the politeness of the reply and the sharp, urgent reality of my child’s needs. The conversation, it seems, is only just beginning.

And I am, once again, not just disappointed, but prepared to fight harder.

Not only harder for my child, but harder for all parents and their children all over Telford and Wrekin!

We deserve better!