Best Practice

I'm stood in front of you, about to make my first disclosure – and I’m terrified

Pastoral issues Safeguarding CPD Pupil wellbeing
What does it take for a victim of abuse to make their first disclosure? Rachel W’s story of the abuse she suffered as a child, its impact on her life and education, and how she finally disclosed is harrowing yet essential reading for anyone working in schools today...


I'm stood in front of you, I’m about to make my first disclosure. I’m terrified.

I was black and blue, everything hurt. Regardless of this, and the fear, and how my life was in danger, I was determined to stop it all.

I need you to make the time now. I need you to finally see me. I need you to keep me safe. I need you to believe me. You asked me to sit and explain what has happened. I have no voice, no words, just fear.

With hesitation, I reluctantly mustered the words and courage to tell you why I am so bruised. I can’t say about anything else, but I’m sure this is bad enough for you to take action.

I think you believe me; you seem shocked and upset when I tell you the smallest details of the most hellish night. That wasn’t the worst of it, but I can’t say anymore.

My brain is foggy with fear, and it hurts to sit still. I beg you not to send me home, to wait on social workers and police. Please listen and I’ll stop throwing your stuff around and stop lying on the floor, clinging to your desk. Don’t ask me anymore, just know it is so bad and I want to live.

This was the day that changed my future...


I remember I was always so relieved to be going to school. I would get the bus in most days, and I’d arrive hurting, bruised, shaky and against all odds.

I didn’t get to wash, my clothes were rarely clean, I’d sleep in my uniform because it was warmer and felt safer. In hindsight going to school was the best part of my day.

I knew at some point I could find food. It was difficult to remember when I’d last eaten. The older I got, the more frustrating it became. I was bullied for looking like “the tramp”. My peers were cruel, though it was still nothing like home, just words – no fists, belts, kickings or grown men laying heavy on me.

I tolerated the bullies and the teachers’ endless remarks of how stupid I was, until I realised that what was happening at home was not normal. IU was 13 when I finally understood. I found out after staying for the first time at a friend’s house.

This sowed a seed of anger towards anyone who made derogatory comments. Anger at no-one seeing me or knowing what I was coming into school from, what I was battling and surviving daily.

Comments such as “make an effort girl” – if only there were words to communicate just how much it took to get me into school. Why was it that when I had woken up to the reality of what was happening, not one teacher took any action to keep me safe?

Lesson time was a double-edged sword. I wanted to learn – I love learning new things – but I didn’t understand why I wasn’t able to sit still, why I couldn’t remember what the teacher had just said.


Articles from Rachel W

  • I'm stood in front of you, about to make my first disclosure – and I’m terrified (this article)
  • Safeguarding & disclosures: What to do if a student turns to you (Published May 3, 2023)


Sometimes I felt in a different world. My nightmares were throughout the day. Remembering what had happened that night or fearing what lay in store… and the teacher would be standing there, looking at me, waiting for an answer.

Frustrated, the teacher would shout sentences such as “Come on, don’t be stupid this is really simple”. The number of times I’d be called stupid, by teachers, peers, people at home – more times than I’d care to remember.

So I’d stay at the back and mess around. My strategy became “class clown” and disrupt the teachers. It meant they’d only talk to me about behaviour rather than work. I found a way to strike enough of a balance so I didn’t get into too much trouble.

My favourite lessons were environmental studies and science – I could do physical learning well. In these lessons I didn’t have to sit still or spend my time concentrating on sitting still; moving around gave me a welcome distraction from how much my body hurt.

When it came to break and lunch times, it was the closest, on reflection, that I felt to freedom. I’d got into a routine of looking for food and most days at school I ate from the bins, from friends throwing food away, or from the tuck shop.

My favourite teacher organised the tuck shop and gave me a job where I’d spend most days helping out. He would leave me on occasions to sort the stock. I knew that could be my only opportunity to eat. I wouldn’t fill my pockets, but I did steal.

I didn’t like the feeling when I stole but I knew I liked the feeling of eating, the taste, the sounds, the feeling in my body. My afternoon lessons always seemed easier with my stomach full.

Now I look back, I think that teacher knew but perhaps didn’t know how else he could help. The average weight of a 14-year-old girl is around seven stone. When I was weighed by the police doctor, I was 4.6.

I remember showing the police how I was able to tuck a finger under my ribs. I thought it was funny. Their reactions were shock and sadness.

The first lesson of the afternoon was always my best. I had food in my stomach and the pain in my bones had eased. I still ached but I felt more relaxed with home time still a while away. I was often able to give the work my best. This was usually when I felt the teachers gave me less grief.

This was my favourite part of the school day. I felt I belonged, and I liked being there to the point where I’d wonder what it would be like to live there. It was warm, there was food, some of the teachers were alright. I never got hurt at school.

Sadly, this feeling would pass as the day moved closer to home time. Fear and dread would set in. I often thought about hiding somewhere where I couldn’t be found. I would hang back near the teachers attempting to stall the inevitable.

There was a kind of subconscious hope that I’d be seen, rescued or saved. After all, I couldn’t possibly talk about what was happening. I didn’t have any words for it. But most of all I was terrified.

After making my first disclosure I was put into emergency care. I wasn’t entirely safe from harm, but it was the start of the journey that has led me to now.

There are so few care-experienced adults in education. This article would have been much easier if my experiences had been picked up on by professionals earlier and I had been able to concentrate more at the school.


How can you make a difference?

There are a number of signs to be alert to in order to spot and help pupils experiencing abuse. And school staff must know what to do when they spot them.

As you can see from my experiences, there were countless signs for the adults around me that things weren’t right – but they went unnoticed.

I share my story so that we may save other pupils. This has become my lifelong passion and brings purpose to my survival.

There are some signs that may suggest a pupil is experiencing adverse conditions at home – you will have already spotted them within my story.

Remember, our young people may not know something isn’t okay or they may not have the words to explain. Pupils that display challenging behaviours may be communicating the unspoken. Think of this if you see the following:

  • Inadequate personal hygiene.
  • Clothing not fitting, unclean, smelly.
  • Drug/alcohol abuse (I was often drunk in school).
  • Fear of people being in close proximity (flinching, hiding, crying, shaking, stuttering).
  • Complaints of physical symptoms: “my tummy hurts”, going to the toilet a lot, incontinence, unable to sit still or bend over, aching, unable to walk properly, showing signs of hunger.
  • Reactions to loud noises and tone of voice.
  • Appearing tired, distracted, distant.
  • Avoidant – of work, of conversation, of physical activity such as PE.
  • Wearing layers of clothing.
  • Physical signs such as bruising, lacerations, burns, cuts, fractures, bite marks, unusually underweight.

This is to name only a few. A general sign to be alert to is simply changes in behaviour, such as becoming withdrawn or displaying challenging behaviour. And please remember, challenging behaviour must be considered from a safeguarding perspective too.

If you notice any of these signs or suspect a young person is unsafe, remember that educators have a legal duty of care to protect young people from abuse. Take immediate action, implement your safeguarding and child protection procedures.

Of course, in-depth training to support educators to feel confident to recognise and respond to child protection concerns is crucial.

Above all, do what you can to create a safe culture where your pupils will feel confident to speak out regarding their own or another child’s safety. And remember, a student may not be ready or able to talk the first time you offer to listen – it may take several attempts before they disclose. So persevere.

  • 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 reading