When Results Don’t Go to Plan: A Mother’s Heart on GCSE Results Day

Today was results day. I imagined nerves, hugs, maybe the odd happy dance, but nothing can fully prepare you for the ache when your child is hurting.

My son, who has an EHCP and lives with Osteogenesis Imperfecta, went to school to collect his GCSE results. At first, he wouldn’t open the envelope.

On the way home, he lagged in his wheelchair; when I looked back, he’d finally opened it but didn’t want me to see. I kept walking so he could have privacy and planned to look together at home.

When I turned to check on him, I saw something that stopped my heart: he was squeezing the paper in his hands and had torn the results sheet. He’d tried to hide it, but the damage was done. He hadn’t passed Maths and English.

Everything that followed felt raw and urgent. I rushed back to the school to get his result reprinted. He refused to come into the house and then disappeared — twice — despite his sister and me searching for him. I even had to switch his wheelchair out of automatic mode so he wouldn’t zoom off.

My husband stepped in, we brought him inside at last, and teachers and a neighbour took time to speak with him. But he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — say how he felt.

It’s not been easy to read his mind because he’s not speaking. So, I show him my support through actions rather than words: I reassure him, listen when he does speak, and refuse to let this moment define his future.

There are reasons this results day was so tough. This year, he had two surgical procedures — one in January and another in April. He went into exams under pressure, which most youngsters will never experience.

In one paper, he popped his shoulder and couldn’t write; in another, he couldn’t mentally engage.

Through it all, he still showed up and tried.

That matters.

That shows courage, not failure.

To other parents and young people reading this: please hear me –

 A set of grades does not measure worth, intelligence, potential, or resilience.

These results are not the final word.

There are many routes forward: resits, college courses that value different strengths, vocational and technical pathways, apprenticeships, and fresh starts that provide the time and space young people need to thrive.

The system can be rigid, but it is not the only path to success.

I am proud of my son. I believe in him wholeheartedly. He is bright, creative, and determined in ways that don’t always fit into exam papers. His journey this year was extraordinary, not because of what’s printed on a sheet of paper but because he kept going despite pain and pressure.

If you’re a parent supporting a child who is hurting today, you don’t have to fix everything at once.

Breathe.

Sit with them.

Tell them you love them.

Remind them and yourself that options are available, and that resilience develops over time, not in a single afternoon.

To every young person who opened their envelope and felt grief, anger, confusion, or shame today: this is not the end. Your story is still being written.

 I see you.

 I believe in you.

And I will keep saying it until you start to believe it, too.

A mother who is proud, tired, hopeful, and still resolute.