Every September, students return to school.

They arrive with backpacks slung over their shoulders, some fresh supplies, and often a mixture of excitement, curiosity, and nervous energy. They reconnect with friends they haven’t seen all summer. They meet new teachers. They wonder what the year ahead might hold.

Of course, there are practical reasons why students return. School is mandatory. Their friends are there. There are new things to learn and new experiences to be had.

All of that is true.

But it runs deeper than that. Every school year begins with a quiet act of hope.

The doors open. Hallways fill. Shoes squeak across polished floors. Someone is finishing breakfast in the parking lot. Another student is already laughing with a friend before the bell rings. A teacher stands at the classroom door, greeting students one by one, communicating something far more important than the day’s lesson:

“I see you. You belong here.”

At its best, that simple message is one of the most powerful forces in public education.

And yet, across British Columbia, throughout Canada, and around the world, we are seeing growing concerns about student absenteeism. More students are missing school than in previous years, and educators, families, and researchers are paying close attention. While attendance data tells part of the story, it does not tell us everything.

Because attendance is rarely just about attendance.

Sometimes an empty desk represents illness — sometimes anxiety — sometimes a student who feels overwhelmed and has fallen behind — sometimes it is a young person carrying challenges that remain unseen by those around them.

The reality is that absenteeism is often complex, layered, and deeply connected to issues of well-being, engagement, and belonging.

That is why I believe we need to ask a different question.

Not simply: “How do we get students to come to school?”

But rather: “What makes school a place they want to return to?”

The answer begins with belonging.

Belonging is not a slogan displayed on a wall or a statement inside a strategic plan. It is built through hundreds of small moments every day:

• It is the teacher who notices when a student seems quieter than usual.

• The educational assistant who helps a child regain a sense of calm before frustration turns into crisis.

• The principal who knows students by name.

• The classmate who saves a seat at lunch.

• The counsellor, Elder, or other adult who reminds a young person that who they are matters.

These moments may seem small in isolation, but collectively they create something powerful. They create connection.

I have written before that before we teach content, we teach belonging.

The research continues to affirm what educators have long understood through experience. Students who feel connected to their schools are more engaged in learning, more resilient when facing challenges, and more likely to thrive academically, socially, and emotionally.

There is an important leadership lesson in this as well.

When school systems face increasing pressures, from staffing shortages and growing student needs to rapidly changing expectations, it is easy to focus primarily on technical solutions — better tracking systems; improved intervention protocols; stronger monitoring of attendance patterns.

These things matter. But they are not enough on their own.

Students return to places where they feel known. That truth sits at the heart of public education’s purpose.

Schools do not exist simply to deliver curriculum. They exist to help young people discover who they are and who they might become. They create spaces where students grow intellectually, socially, emotionally, and ethically.

When students are frequently absent, that work becomes more challenging. But it also becomes more important.

Chronic absenteeism is not simply a data problem to solve. It is a signal inviting us to pay closer attention.

• Who is struggling?

• Who is quietly drifting to the margins?

• Who feels disconnected?

• And what might we do differently to help them reconnect?

Of course, schools cannot solve every challenge confronting young people and families today. The pressures facing communities are real, and many extend far beyond the schoolhouse doors.

But schools can still serve as one of the most powerful protective forces in a young person’s life. When life feels uncertain, school can provide stability. When the world feels disconnected, school can create community. When young people begin to doubt themselves, school can remind them that they matter.

So as another school year begins, perhaps the most important question is not: “Who is here today?”

Perhaps the better question is: “What happened here recently that would make a student want to return tomorrow?”

• Did they feel successful?

• Did they feel seen?

• Did they laugh?

• Did someone make room for their voice?

Those are not soft questions — they are foundational ones.

Because every classroom begins long before the bell rings. It begins with connection. It begins with relationships. It begins with the daily commitment to create schools where students do not simply attend but truly belong.

And when students belong, they come back.