Published: 14 November 2025. The English Chronicle Desk. The English Chronicle Online
For many families across England, the school run is more than a daily routine. It is the opening chapter of a long and often painful battle with a system designed to support disabled children but increasingly strained, fragmented and unable to keep pace with rising need. This week, that quiet struggle burst into the national spotlight as some of England’s largest local authorities issued one of their starkest warnings yet: the system for special educational needs and disabilities is, in their words, heading toward “total collapse”.
The County Councils Network, which represents a significant number of England’s local authorities, delivered the blunt assessment after analysing the escalating financial pressures they face. By the end of this Parliament in 2029, its members say their deficits related to special educational needs and disabilities will hit an extraordinary £4.4bn a year. These figures, they caution, reflect not merely a budgetary inconvenience or a short-term crunch, but a structural imbalance so severe that continued delay in reform could break the system entirely.
At the centre of the crisis is the Education, Health and Care Plan—known universally as the EHCP. This legal document outlines the specific support a child is entitled to, and once issued, it creates a binding obligation that councils must meet. It is, in theory, the backbone of protections for children with complex needs. But as demand surges at an unprecedented rate, the backbone is buckling.
According to the Department for Education, there were 638,745 EHCPs in place as of January 2025. That figure represents a 10.8 percent rise in a single year. Even more striking is the growth in new plans issued: 97,747 began during 2024, an increase of 15.8 percent compared to the year before. Such relentless growth has transformed what used to be considered exceptional support into something that now touches a significant and continually expanding share of the population. The County Councils Network estimates that by the end of the decade, one in every twenty children in England could require this form of legally protected assistance.
The figures alone are alarming, but they only tell part of the story. Councils emphasise that ballooning demand is not the only factor driving the strain. The cost of placements themselves—particularly specialist residential settings and private sector provision—has climbed sharply. Some local authorities report paying the same for a single specialist placement as they once paid to run an entire small school. When combined with the rising number of children requiring intensive support, the financial pressures quickly become unsustainable.
The government is aware of the issue, but ministers have repeatedly delayed plans to overhaul the SEND system. A long-anticipated white paper, designed to lay out the direction of reforms, has been postponed again until next year. For teachers, local authorities and most urgently parents, that delay has sharpened anxieties. It has also provoked political criticism. Labour MPs have warned the government that diluting support or introducing poorly considered changes would carry significant political risk, particularly in regions where SEND provision is already stretched to breaking point.
Inside thousands of family homes, the political debate may feel far removed, but the consequences of the strained system are lived every day. Among those feeling the pressure firsthand is Amanda Quick, who lives in Somerset with her 12-year-old son Ezra. Ezra has autism and ADHD, and he attends a specialist school where he is thriving. But getting to this point, Amanda says, almost broke her.
She recalls the endless stacks of paperwork, the complex language of legal rights and educational assessments, the emotional toll of repeatedly explaining her son’s struggles to panels of professionals, and the feeling of hitting barrier after barrier. “My mental health took a hit,” she says. “I couldn’t cope with all the paperwork, so I ended up getting a solicitor, which is about £200 an hour.” For families already dealing with the demands of caring for a child with additional needs, she explains, the process can feel impossibly unfair.
Her experience mirrors those of families across the country, including parents who meet at a small Taunton café dedicated to children with special educational needs. The café’s owner, Claire Naylor, knows that struggle intimately. Her son MJ, who has non-verbal autism, spent more than a year awaiting the support he was legally entitled to receive. Claire says she felt “dismissed” throughout the process, describing it as a battle, a fight that required her to learn legal jargon, fill out technical paperwork and push relentlessly against deadlines that shifted without explanation.
“The EHCP process became a real fight and a real battle to get those provisions put in place,” she says. “We ended up having to go to court, which took us over a year.” To build their case, Claire and her family spent thousands of pounds on private assessments, reports and specialists. “We needed him to fail to be able to prove he needed support,” she says. “It’s a really sad way of being heard.” The long delays and emotional strain cost not only money but friendships, time and stability. “It affected the whole family,” she adds quietly.
Stories like Claire’s and Amanda’s have become far too common, campaigners argue. In many communities, the path to securing support is no longer a simple assessment of need—it has become adversarial, a process in which parents must fight to prove their child’s difficulties rather than being supported from the outset. This has created what experts describe as a “culture of mistrust” between families and councils. Parents often feel they must arm themselves with lawyers or advocates, while councils—struggling under soaring deficits—face accusations of gatekeeping resources they do not have.
At the national level, the debate about reform is fraught with tension. The government has acknowledged the severity of the challenges, but ministers insist reforms must be comprehensive, carefully planned and financially sustainable. They argue that hasty changes could create loopholes or disruptions that worsen inequalities rather than resolving them. Critics counter that delay has become a default response and that each postponement compounds the human cost.
The stakes are high. If the system does collapse, the consequences would reach far beyond the children currently in school. A generation of young people could be affected, their futures shaped by what support they were or were not able to receive at critical moments. Educational outcomes, mental health trajectories and long-term independence could all be compromised. Without functioning support structures, schools could be overwhelmed, families could be left without guidance, and many vulnerable children could slip through the cracks.
The pressures extend into mainstream schools as well. Teachers report increasingly strained classroom environments as they attempt to support pupils with complex needs without adequate training or resources. Some schools have resorted to part-time timetables or reduced hours for pupils whose needs they cannot meet. Families, in turn, are left frustrated and stressed, torn between understanding the constraints schools face and fighting for their child’s right to education.
These challenges reveal a deeper truth about the SEND system: its flaws are not isolated to bureaucratic inefficiencies or individual cases. They are embedded in the broader structure of funding, provision and assessment that has struggled to evolve alongside the needs of England’s increasingly diverse student population. Every child with an EHCP has a legal right to tailored support, but legal rights alone cannot deliver services that the system lacks the capacity to provide.
As councils warn of impending collapse, the urgency of reform becomes harder to ignore. Political pressure is mounting from all directions, and as the next general election approaches, SEND provision is likely to become a defining issue for many families. The question now is whether the government can deliver on promised reforms quickly and effectively enough to stabilise the system before it collapses under its own weight.
For families like Claire’s and Amanda’s, reform cannot come soon enough. Their stories reflect the real human cost behind the statistics and financial forecasts. They highlight why the SEND system matters—not just as a policy issue, but as a lifeline for some of the country’s most vulnerable children.
In the coming months, decisions made in Westminster will determine whether that lifeline strengthens or frays. The voices of councils, parents, teachers and children echo with a shared message: the stakes are too high for delay. England’s special needs system stands at a crossroads, and the path chosen now will shape the futures of thousands of children for years to come.


























































































