In Loco Parentis: When Schools Act Like They Share Custody

The phrase in loco parentis comes from Latin and means “in the place of a parent.” In schools, it is meant to describe a limited legal responsibility: while children are in their care, educators have a duty to act reasonably to keep them safe. It does not mean that schools become co-parents. It does not give educators authority to override families, dismiss disability, or position themselves as the ultimate experts on what a child needs.

And yet, for many families, the relationship with the school can begin to feel less like collaboration and more like an ugly custody fight.

Parents, especially those raising disabled, neurodivergent, or otherwise marginalized children, are often not treated as trusted experts on their own child. Instead, they are treated like opposing parties. When they disagree with the school’s approach, question exclusionary practices, raise concerns about harm, or push for accommodations, the response can quickly turn condescending, dismissive, or accusatory. Families are spoken to as though they are unreasonable, misinformed, or too emotional to understand what the professionals already know best.

It becomes a struggle over authority, credibility, and control.

Schools frequently position themselves as experts not only in education, but in behaviour, regulation, mental health, attendance, family functioning, and what a child supposedly needs. In that dynamic, parents can be cast as barriers rather than partners. Their knowledge is minimized. Their concerns are reframed as resistance. Disability-related needs are interpreted as behaviour problems. Accommodation requests are treated as excessive demands. Human rights obligations are poorly understood or ignored altogether. Classroom practices that exclude disabled students are defended as matters of teacher autonomy rather than recognized as barriers to access.

When this happens, in loco parentis stops describing a temporary duty of care and starts functioning more like a claim to shared custody.

And like many custody battles, the fight is not only over the child but over who gets to define reality, with families left trying to defend their parenting under a cloud of suspicion.

This becomes especially dangerous when disagreement is escalated into surveillance or punishment. Families who do not comply quickly enough, who question medication, who resist being called to pick up their child, or who challenge school decisions may find themselves subtly or explicitly threatened with reports to child welfare authorities. In some cases, MCFD is drawn in not because a child is truly in need of protection, but because a parent is seen as unwilling to cooperate with the school’s preferred course of action.

That is not collaboration. That is coercion.

Child protection systems should never be used as leverage in disputes between schools and families. Reporting a parent for being “uncooperative” when the real issue is disagreement, advocacy, or the school’s own failure to accommodate is a misuse of institutional power. It deepens harm, destroys trust, and sends a clear message to families: comply, or risk being positioned as the problem.

This is particularly harmful for families of disabled children because disability is so often disregarded or misunderstood in schools. Instead of asking whether the environment is accessible, whether accommodations are being implemented, or whether distress is a response to unmet needs, the problem is too often located in the child or the parent. The family is scrutinized while the system escapes scrutiny.

But disability rights are not optional. Inclusive education is not a favour. Human rights law does not disappear at the classroom door.

Teachers do have professional autonomy, but autonomy is not a licence to ignore disability, deny accommodations, or set up classrooms in ways that systematically exclude some students. Professional judgment must exist within legal and ethical boundaries. It must be exercised in a way that respects family voice, student dignity, and the duty to accommodate. When autonomy is used to justify exclusion, it is no longer about pedagogy. It is about power.

Families do not need schools to act like co-parents. They need schools to act lawfully, humbly, and in genuine partnership.

Parents know their children in ways institutions never will. They carry histories, patterns, strengths, fears, needs, and hard-won understanding that cannot be captured in a file or a behavioural report. That knowledge should not be treated as a threat to professional authority. It should be treated as essential.

If schools want trust, they must stop confusing authority with expertise and compliance with collaboration. They must stop weaponizing tone, policy, and child protection processes against families who speak up. They must stop treating disagreement as defiance. And they must stop using in loco parentis to blur the line between temporary care and control over family decisions.

Schools are responsible for educating children, accommodating disability, and ensuring safe and inclusive learning environments. They are not entitled to shared custody over a child’s life.

Real partnership begins when schools remember the difference.