Education inequality: A heartfelt cry on the rough, steep road to ‘Every child achieving and thriving’

(TRIGGER WARNING: There are some BIG feelings here. No trantrums, but plenty of tears…)

In her speech on the schools’ white paper on Monday 23rd February 2026, the Education Secretary, Bridget Phillipson, acknowledged the facts:

• the UK education system is broken ‘for some’,
• ‘The disadvantage gap is still wide‘,
• ‘When it comes to opportunity, background still counts for too much’.

^{https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/bridget-phillipsons-speech-on-the-schools-white-paper}

An eye-opening journey to work

About 4 years ago, a single morning’s commute opened a window to the lived reality of one vulnerable child – and drove home to me the starkly contrasting experiences of two families at the start of a school day.

I left classroom teaching at the end of the 2022 summer term. I had fought to help fix the broken education system from the inside. I was beaten and my wounds were red raw. I left the battlefield defeated, demoralised and disillusioned. I had served the children and families in my care wholeheartedly, but I had been unable to make the difference too many of them so desperately needed. In spite of my best intentions and my ceaseless efforts, I had failed to be a catalyst for change.

After leaving my decades of work in schools, I spent the winter working at a temping job in Hereford. Most days, I shared lifts with a colleague but – on one cold and frosty morning – I caught the bus. When I arrived at the bus stop, I recognised a father and his young daughter, who were waiting for the 07:30 service from Ledbury to Hereford…

I knew the little girl was about six or seven years old. I smiled, greeted them both warmly, and struck up a conversation. I learned that the child had been referred to a primary school in the city to help address her needs. The cheapest transport available to them was the bus, which leaves and returns to Ledbury every two hours. Each day the daughter attended the Hereford school required them to make the 30 minute bus journey together early every morning, and repeat the trip every afternoon.

When the 476 bus arrived, we climbed aboard. The little girl sat with her dad on a side-facing seat at the front. I sat further back, desperately trying to make sense of what I’d heard. I had listened without passing judgment, but the circumstances blew my mind. I knew the child’s behaviour could be very challenging at times but, try as I might, I failed to understand how this course of action could provide for her needs. My heart ached as I counted the cost of her day – not just to her, but to every member of her family. I considered writing a letter on their behalf, but painful past lessons warned me not to get involved.

A barrage of thoughts and feelings fought within me, as the little girl did her best to snuggle up beside her dad. He seemed preoccupied with his phone – maybe trying to coordinate arrangements to get his other daughters and sons to school (I had no recollection of ever seeing Mum and, from what I could remember, poor health meant she rarely left their home).

I silently willed Dad to encircle his daughter with a protective arm, but his arms never left his sides. Now and again, she drifted off to sleep, but woke whenever the bus lurched. At one point in the journey, a sudden bump in the road jerked her sideways and she hit her head against a metal bar. She did not cry and no comfort was offered.

Every fibre of my being longed to scoop her up, love and care for her. But I did nothing, except silently cry to my God with groans that can’t be uttered, petitioning Him on behalf of this father and child. For the half an hour bus ride, I heard and saw no communication between them, spoken or unspoken.

Finally – at the stop before mine – the man stood up and called out, “Come on”. The command carried no name. The child stirred from her slumber, dutifully followed her dad off the bus, and plodded the pavement behind him, a kerb between her and the busy road. I wondered what she would face at the new school of strangers…

I got off at the next stop. As I turned the corner, I found myself following another little girl of a similar age. She was holding hands with her parents, one on each side. The spring in this child’s step showed signs of a good night’s sleep and a healthy breakfast. She was wrapped up warm against the weather and her navy and gold crested beret and uniform told me she was on her way to Hereford Cathedral School. The fragrance of the air around this happy trio was fresh and clean. The daughter’s neat plaits and polished leather shoes shone brightly. The plentiful pockets of her backpack appeared comfortably filled with everything she needed for the day and their conversation flowed with rich vocabulary.

As I walked on, I wrestled with the unfathomable unfairness of life and my incapacity and inability to effect positive, transformational change for those who needed it most. I arrived at the empty office with a desert storm of thoughts and feelings pulling me in all directions, tearing at my wounds and rubbing grit into the depths of them. Claire the cleaner found me weeping.

I’m not a researcher, but the evidence is clear to me: the weight of a broken system falls heaviest ‘where deprivation is deepest’. My journey to work that day turned up the volume of the cry of my heart for the vulnerable and the voiceless.

‘Every child achieving and thriving’

Last week, a new white paper (‘Every child achieving and thriving‘), set out the government’s plans to fix the education system, ‘empowering everyone… to innovate together to improve outcomes‘ (p17, ‘Every child achieving and thriving’, February 2026):

‘This is our open invitation: we want government, schools, families, and everyone with a stake in our children’s future working in genuine partnership – both at national level and in every community around the country.‘

^{p17, ‘Every child achieving and thriving’, February 2026}

Bridget Phillipson has set herself ambitious targets:

‘I will cut the disadvantage gap in half.

We’ll talk to parents, schools and experts – and we’ll drive funding to where it’s needed most.‘

^{_{https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/bridget-phillipsons-speech-on-the-schools-white-paper}}

A worthy goal.

But will billions be enough to fill the gap?

Last year in little old Herefordshire alone, our council approved a High Needs Budget of £45.7 million for 2025/26 to address rising demands in SEND and Alternative Provision. This included a projected £20.2 million in-year deficit, representing a 253% increase in the funding gap compared to 2024/25.

How will the government ensure funding reaches those who need it most?

Is it just me who’s witnessed the strongest, loudest voices receiving the largest share, while those too weak to speak scrape up the leftovers?

Will it be possible to fairly share these huge amounts across a nation of needs?

What about the education workforce?

Have schemes, scripts and SATs left them in any fit state to innovate?

Edu-celebrities stand centre stage on social media platforms and use their megaphones of influence to make their thoughts and feelings heard. But what about the quiet thinkers and sensitive souls, who have no time for social media because they’re spending all their energies doing their utmost to meet the needs of the children in their care? Who will amplify their voices?

‘Do the little things…’

Yesterday would have been my dad’s 80th birthday (he died in 2021). He was born on St David’s Day and his name was John. Yesterday, in the morning service at St Michael’s Church in Ledbury, I learned that St David (Patron Saint of Wales) exhorted his listeners, before he died, encouraging them to,

‘Be joyful.

Keep the faith and do the little things.

Do not wait for greatness.

Do the small things with great love.’

^{Rev’d Michael Gallagher quoted these words from St David’s last address in his sermon at Ledbury Parish Church on Sunday 1st March, 2026}

Yesterday afternoon, I took this photo of a picture that has been hanging above my kitchen door for many years. I found it in a local charity shop and I think the simply embroidered words, ‘We cannot all do great things for the world, but we can do small things with great love’, came from Mother Theresa.

38 years ago, in the interview for my 4 year teacher training degree, I was asked what I had to offer children. My one word answer surprised me as much as it surprised the panel – but it’s as true now as it was then,

“Love.”

That fire is still burning in my heart, now stronger than ever.

I’m now 55 years old. I haven’t been inside a classroom since July 2022. I currently teach part-time, employed by an Alternative Provision agency. I supplement my income with cleaning jobs, I volunteer at my local library and food bank, and I cut my cloth according to my means.

I created this website in January 2020 – I’ve been writing my heart out here ever since. A good friend once asked me why. My rationale for this blog is it offers me the space to think out loud in my ongoing search for clarity of direction. I am continually seeking a future where young and old bond through books, where relationships are strengthened through shared reading, where obstacles to literacy are removed, and where reading becomes irresistible. I currently have 26 subscribers.

I took this photograph today. It’s a keyring made and given to me by another friend, Fran, at Good Soil‘s open day in Worcester in July 2024. The gold letters spell out the words, ‘Do not despise the day of small beginnings.’. They come from the bible and the pen of the prophet Zechariah. They felt especially poignant on the afternoon Fran gave the keyring to me.

I had just finished the fourth and final Saturday of a series of ‘Read with Julia events at Ledbury Community Hub. I had poured my heart and soul into advertising and running the four mornings. I had been hopeful that many children and families would come along and enjoy the benefits of shared reading. Over the course of the month, a total of 6 children came through the door – which led me to ask the question, “Has learning to read in 2024 become a chore and a bore?“.

I’m no stranger to ‘small beginnings’.

Ledbury Library Development Group have supported me to deliver ‘Read with Julia’ yearly summer holiday reading sessions for children and families since 2023. No children or families came to the opening session in 2025. I went out into the streets of Ledbury – my arms filled with picturebooks – searching for young families, but I found no children to share my beautiful books with. I returned to the children’s section of the library and wept quietly, before taking this photograph:

God knows, I’ve sown a lot of tears over the years.

Before my online Alternative Provision session this afternoon, I am hoping to hang the washing on the line and finish editing another picturebook introduction for my Read with Julia YouTube channel. Each one of the 189 videos on my channel was born from my desire for every child, family and community to be achieving and thriving together through shared reading.

I am grateful for the encouragement I received from Rev’d Michael’s preaching yesterday morning, and the lessons he drew out from John chapter 3 and the life of St David. I am stepping into this new month with a renewed determination to harness the cry of my heart, be joyful, keep the faith, and keep doing the little things in life.

‘Gwnewch y pethau bychain mewn bywyd.’

_{^{English translation from the Welsh: ‘Do the little things in life.‘}}

I am grateful for the encouragement I received from Michael’s preaching yesterday morning, and for the lessons he drew out from John chapter 3, and the life of St David. I am stepping into this new month with a renewed determination to harness the cry of my heart, and to keep joyfully and faithfully doing the little things in life.

When the road is rough and steep… (Sing along if you know the words.)