When I was leading student support in Boston, we invested a lot in building out mental health services for students — recruiting clinicians, setting up referral pathways, getting the infrastructure in place.
And still, too many families said “no” or never responded at all. For a long time, we treated that as a family engagement problem. As in: families aren't engaging.
When we started listening more carefully, we realized the gap wasn't on the family side. It was on ours. We were asking people to walk through doors we hadn't made welcoming.
Most districts I work with today are navigating some version of the same three barriers. The good news is that each one has a path through it if you're willing to change the conversation.
Barrier 1: “My child doesn't need that, this isn’t that serious.”
For many families, "mental health services" still sounds like something reserved for a crisis. When a school reaches out to recommend support, some parents hear: we think something is seriously wrong with your child.
That's isn’t necessarily a knowledge gap. It may be a trust gap.
Normalize support before anyone needs it. Districts that do this well talk about mental health and emotional wellness the same way they talk about tutoring — as a resource available to any student, not a response to a problem.
Lead with prevention, not intervention. When families understand that early support can help their child manage stress, build coping skills, and stay on track academically, before things escalate, the conversation shifts.
Pay attention to language. "Your child has been referred for mental health services" lands very differently than "We have a support available that helps kids manage stress and do their best in school. Can I tell you about it?"
Same service. Completely different door.
Barrier 2: “I'm not sure this is a good fit for our family.”
This one can show up in a lot of ways. Some families aren't sure mental health support fits their values or culture. Others have had experiences with schools or institutions that weren’t collaborative — decisions made without their input, calls that only meant bad news.
When you reach out to recommend support for a child, it makes sense that some families are cautious. You can't undo that history in a single conversation, but you can start building something different.
The messenger matters as much as the message. I've watched districts spend weeks perfecting a flyer, only to have it sit untouched in backpacks. Then a parent mentions the same service to another parent at pickup, and suddenly three families call to get support.
That's not an accident. When families hear "this helped my kid" from someone they already trust — another parent, a community health worker, a family liaison who speaks their language — it carries more weight than anything a district can send home. We need to identify and support the people families are already listening to.
Follow-through matters more than polish. Families aren't tracking whether schools are perfect. They're tracking whether we're reliable. They notice when we remember what they told us last week. They notice when we handle their child's information carefully. They notice the small things.
Trust doesn't happen in one meeting. It builds over time, through consistency.
Bring families in early. Before talking about services, take time to understand what feels most important or most urgent from their perspective. Ask what times work. Ask what language they'd prefer. Ask what would make this feel safe. The districts doing this well aren't just delivering services to families, they're designing them with families. That's a fundamentally different posture, and families can tell the difference.
Barrier 3: “I don’t know how we’d make this work.”
This is one of the most common barriers and it often gets less attention than it deserves. A family can fully support the idea of their child getting help and still not be able to make it happen.
If services require a parent to take time off work, arrange transportation, find childcare for siblings, and navigate an unfamiliar clinic — that's four separate points of failure. For families already stretched thin, even one can stall a referral.
Virtual services have changed this equation. When a student can meet with a therapist from a private space at home or school, you've removed transportation, work conflicts, and childcare barriers at once. For many families, telehealth is what makes care possible.
Flexible scheduling signals that you understand their reality. Non-traditional hours. Short intake processes. Text follow-ups instead of phone calls during the workday. These aren't small conveniences. For working families, they can be the difference between participation and dropout.
And simplify the path in. Every extra form, extra step, or extra call is a place where engagement breaks down. The districts seeing the strongest follow-through have made the journey from referral to first session as simple and short as possible. We can offer all the resources we want but if families can't realistically access them, it won't matter.
The Common Thread
Across all three barriers, the pattern is similar: families aren't disengaged. They're responding to systems that weren't designed around their reality and are missing their voice.
Stigma doesn’t disappear just because we change our language, but it can be reinforced when we frame support only as intervention rather than prevention. Mistrust persists when we talk at families rather than with them. Access breaks down when we design systems around institutions instead of families.
The districts making progress aren't doing anything radical. They're listening. They're adjusting. And they're making support easier to access.
Looking to build stronger partnerships with families? Explore our companion guide with practical conversation approaches for navigating questions about student support. Download: Reframing Conversations with Families →
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