By Dr. Sarah Dyson
When we talk about health and well-being for children in care, we often focus on medical care and therapy, but we rarely talk about the role education plays. Child well-being includes social, emotional, and cognitive factors alongside behavioral functioning and physical health (Semanchin Jones et al., 2015). Schools are where all of these factors interact for 6-7 [SD1] hours a day, 180 days a year. For me and many kids in care, what happened in school shaped not just grades, but our chances of thriving as adults.
Finding Stability in School
I grew up in and out of care throughout my childhood and, for me, education was the foundation of my health and well-being. Even when everything else in my life was moving, changing, or disappearing, school was the one place I could count on. I changed elementary schools more times than I can count on both hands. In high school, I changed schools four times in four years. Through all this mobility, the buildings, the routines, the expectations, and the teachers remained familiar.
Before I entered the system, school was my home. It was the place that fed me and kept me warm. I used to wake up before the sun, walk to school, and wait on the steps for the custodians to open the doors. In those quiet mornings, I’d stand alone at the front of the room and write on the chalkboard, pretending to be the teacher. School was where I felt safe. Later, when I’d wake up in unfamiliar homes without my siblings, school was the only place that still made sense.
Relationships that Protect
It was teachers who provided the first positive adult relationships in my life. They modeled empathy, patience, and consistency. They taught me how to navigate conflict, express myself, and build resiliency, skills I desperately needed outside the classroom. They asked if I was okay and they noticed when I wasn’t. When I was struggling academically, they didn’t assume I wasn’t trying. They saw that I was tired and stressed, and they adjusted.
Research on positive childhood experiences (PCEs) is starting to back up what their actions meant for me. PCEs are correlated with better adult mental and physical health even in the presence of adverse childhood events (ACEs). Several PCEs are naturally embedded within schools including: enjoying community traditions, feeling a sense of belonging in high school, feeling supported by friends, and having at least two non-parent adults who genuinely care (Bethell et al., 2019; Sege et al., 2025). Supportive relationships with teachers and mentors can increase the likelihood of graduating high school, improve mental health, and buffer the effects of trauma well into adulthood (Jenkins Keenan & Choi, 2024; Drake et al., 2025). For youth in foster care, these school-based relationships can be a critical protective factor.
If you’re a resource parent, you can nurture school-based relationships through school activities, regular communication, and ensuring that those relationships are visible to the team. For workers, you can ask kids who they feel connected to and make that part of planning and advocacy.
Schools as Hubs for Services
Schools aren’t just about relationships. They’re also a hub for critical services. My school social worker helped me access food, clothing, Christmas presents and a dentist when I had a cavity. The school nurse checked my temperature when I was sick and let me rest in her office when I needed a safe place. This matters even more when you consider how difficult it is for kids in care to access community-based services, even when they technically have coverage. When I needed glasses, my school stepped in. They had a program that bused students into the city and fitted them for glasses the same day. No searching for providers, no paperwork, no waiting.
Schools also provide mental health support, not just through formal roles, but through teachers, coaches, librarians, guidance counselors, and administrators who all play their part. This support is critical because kids in care experience higher rates of depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress (PTSD) (Drake et al., 2025). My basketball coach gave me a place to belong where I felt valued and part of a team. Guidance counselors told me I was smart enough to go to college, to be a scientist, a lawyer, or a doctor. When I needed more formal support, the school psychologist stepped in with a diagnosis of complex PTSD, which brought much needed health and academic interventions.
As a resource parent or child welfare professional, you can ask schools about all the supports they offer: meal programs, clothing closets, school-based health or mental health services, before- and after-school activities, and special programs like vision and dental clinics.
The Cost of Instability
All of this points to one big lesson: every placement decision is also a school assignment decision.When a child experiences a change in placement, new parents and providers lose important history and context (Mekonnen et al., 2009). The same thing happens in schools. Each school change can set students back months academically (Jenkins Keenan & Choi, 2024) and interrupt important social-emotional development. School stability affects more than just test scores, it affects special education services, accommodations, access to free and reduced meals, extracurricular participation, and transportation. It impacts whether children are able to maintain those protective relationships that support their health and well-being.
For those making placement decisions, ask, “Can we keep this child at their current school? If not, what can we do to protect their connections there?” If a move is unavoidable, we can help by making sure records and stories move, too. Share school history, IEPs, activities, what has helped the child learn, and the names of adults at the school who matter to them. Advocating for transitional planning meetings and warm hand-offs between old and new schools can soften the blow of unavoidable change.
Now, schools can’t fix everything, and even with the Every Student Succeeds Act’s (ESSA) recognition of the importance of educational stability, many children don’t experience these protections in practice. I felt those gaps, too. I still wish I’d had earlier mental health support, the ability to maintain connections with my siblings, and a place to belong beyond classroom walls, but it got me here. The girl who stood at that chalkboard is now working to make the system better for kids in care. I spend my days looking at systems and policies, but I never forget what it felt like to be the kid living inside those systems. Educational stability should be part of every conversation regarding the health and well-being of kids in care. When we protect school stability, we protect one of the strongest tools we have to help children thrive.
Sarah Dyson, Ph.D. is an Associate at Basis Policy Research, where she leads SPARK-FC, a statewide pilot advancing foster parent recruitment and retention and conducts research on education and child welfare systems.
