Key points:
Every school leader I know has a version of the same moment: You pull up a student’s attendance record expecting to find a discipline problem, and instead you find a family going through a crisis none of us would wish on anyone. A parent who lost a job. A kid being bullied in ways no adult ever caught. A housing situation that isn’t stable from one month to the next. The absences were never really the story. They were just the part we happened to be measuring.
That realization has shaped a lot of how we think about this work in North Carolina’s Cumberland County Schools. Chronic absenteeism isn’t really about attendance. It’s about everything underneath attendance. And if we keep treating it like a compliance problem, we’re going to keep getting compliance-sized results.
In school systems nationwide, the first instinct when a student misses too much school is to send a letter, then a warning, then eventually a referral. While I have found that families of elementary school students are often already aware of their child’s absence, a formal notice may be the first time the families of our secondary students learn that their child has been skipping. But in both instances, what is really needed was someone to ask why those students were absent, and to actually stick around for the answer.
What we’ve learned in Cumberland County again and again is that behind many chronically absent students is a story that has nothing to do with motivation. It’s a mental health struggle, or immigration-related concerns, or a trauma no one at school is even aware of. Or worst of all, a student who simply stopped feeling like anyone at school would notice if they left, or came back.
None of those problems get solved by a stricter attendance policy. They get solved by people.
That’s the shift Cumberland County is making, and it’s harder than it sounds. At its core, this strategy relies on proactive prevention and a robust framework of multi-tiered supports. It means building real, sustained relationships with students and families instead of transactional check-ins. It means breaking down silos so that school counselors, social workers, nurses, and community partners are talking to each other about the same kids, instead of working in separate lanes. It means pairing early identification with family engagement, mental health support, and case management that follows a student long enough to remove the barrier in front of them.
This kind of work can’t live in one office or one program. It has to be woven through the whole system, and include schools, families, community organizations, and behavioral health providers all pulling in the same direction. That’s not a small lift. But it’s the only version of this work that actually holds up over time.
I also think we owe it to ourselves to be honest about where a lot of this started. The pandemic didn’t create the disconnect between students and school. It exposed one that was already there, and then it normalized something else entirely–the idea that learning doesn’t have to look one particular way. A lot of our students came out of the pandemic expecting more flexibility, more personalization, more self-paced instruction, and more say in how and where they learn. Some of them found smaller, more relevant learning environments that worked better for them than a traditional classroom ever had. As educational leaders, we can resist that shift or we can learn from it.
At the same time, we’re seeing a growing number of students whose absences are connected to anxiety, depression or other mental health concerns, not defiance. School avoidance rooted in a mental health struggle looks a lot like truancy to the untrained eye. But educators know it is not the same thing, and it does not respond to the same interventions. Building genuine relationships, expanding access to mental health support, and offering more flexible, student-centered pathways aren’t nice extras. They are a critical component of the actual work now.
This summer, our district partnered with Concentric Educational Solutions to help us go deeper into this approach, pairing our team’s local knowledge of Cumberland County families with a model built specifically around trust, home visits, and root-cause problem solving rather than paperwork and penalties. It has already changed the way some of our staff think about a first conversation with a family.
I don’t say any of this because we’ve figured it all out. We haven’t. But I’ve watched what happens when a student who hasn’t been to school in a month gets a knock on the door from someone who genuinely wants to understand the barriers they are facing and not just document them. Something opens up. Trust starts to rebuild, slowly, and attendance starts to follow.
To the school leaders reading this in districts far from mine, I’d offer this: Our attendance numbers will not turn around because we got better at counting. They’ll turn around when we get better at connecting, and when we build systems patient and coordinated enough to address what’s actually keeping kids away. I hope you’ll consider joining us in that shift. Our students are telling us something with their absences. It’s time we all started listening.
