When schools juggle duty of care, too many survivors are left to cope

The terrible facts emerging from recent cases — a rise in peer‑on‑peer sexual violence, the death of a 16‑year‑old from suspected sexual choking, and students returning to class while their assaults are investigated — demand more than headlines. They beg the question: what duty do schools owe to victims, and what do we expect of institutions that must also balance due process for accused students? The national cabinet’s decision to prioritise a plan to end sexual violence against women, state moves in New South Wales and the federal government’s draft digital duty of care legislation are welcome steps, but policy must translate into safer everyday classrooms. For a student preparing to sit HSC exams while at the centre of an alleged gang‑rape, the immediate concern is practical: how to study when safety, privacy and trauma are unresolved. For parents and teachers, the question is how schools can remain places of learning and refuge when the social dynamics that underpin schooling change so rapidly. The spike in peer‑on‑peer violence indicates this is not a series of isolated problems; it is a systemic issue spanning school culture, supervision, digital spaces and the intersection of adolescence with broader social behaviours. A duty of care cannot mean merely a checklist of punishment or exclusion. Schools must be capable of holding the safety of survivors at the centre of a response that includes immediate protection, ongoing pastoral support and adjustments to learning arrangements so students can continue their education without retraumatisation. At the same time, institutions must preserve procedural fairness for those accused; hasty expulsions without proper investigation can do profound harm and may entrench injustice. This balancing act requires better resourcing and clearer protocols. Teachers and school leaders are already stretched; asking them to carry the full burden of responding to serious allegations without specialist support is unfair and ineffective. Schools need access to trained counsellors, trauma‑informed professionals and prompt pathways to police and child protection services where warranted. Education departments should ensure consistent policies across jurisdictions so families know what to expect regardless of postcode. Digital spaces complicate matters. The federal draft on a digital duty of care recognises that online behaviour fuels and amplifies harm, but legislation is only one piece. Schools must be equipped to work with families and platforms to remove harmful material swiftly, protect privacy and educate young people about consent and digital citizenship. Prevention matters as much as response. Comprehensive, age‑appropriate education about consent and respectful relationships should be universal and evidence‑based, taught with cultural competency and continuity across years. Parents, too, must be part of the conversation: schools cannot substitute for community standards. Ultimately, the measure of our schools will not be the speed of their punishments but the quality of their protections. Students forced to ‘‘go back the next day and just deal with it’’ should not be part of any system’s normal operating procedures. If national and state initiatives are to mean anything, they must fund support, tighten protocols and change school cultures so young people can learn without fear. Anything less leaves survivors to shoulder a burden no child should bear.