When school refusal left Laney without a clear path forward, an alternative education program in Perth's northern suburbs changed everything. Now a first-year Biomedical Science student, she shares what made the difference.
There's a version of Laney's story that could have gone very differently. She spent Years 7 and 8 at a private high school, but rarely made it to class. On the days she did show up, she'd end up in the office — too anxious to walk through the classroom door. Eventually, the school stopped feeling like a place for her altogether.
"We would plan in advance," she recalls. "They'd say, 'Okay, maybe try going to class on Tuesday.' And then I would just be too nervous and wouldn't show up."
By the end of Year 8, Laney had stopped attending entirely. A stint of online school followed, but motivation was hard to find, and there was a lot happening at home. It was her therapist at Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services (CAMHS) — a free, government-funded support service for young people — who first mentioned Youth Futures Community School. Other young people in similar situations had been referred there, she was told, and it had worked out really well.
"Mostly just a place that I could go where I felt safe that wasn't home. Having support that was more tailored towards me."
— Laney, Youth Futures Clarkson
That word — safe — comes up a lot when Laney talks about Youth Futures. Not safe in a passive sense, but safe as a foundation for growth. Because from that foundation, things started to happen that nobody, least of all Laney, expected.
There was the Pipeline Challenge — a five-day bike ride — she completed just one week after losing both her dogs and going through a breakup. "I'd never even gone to my Year 6 school camp," she says. "But I went through with it, and I finished it. It made me realise I can handle a lot more than I think I can."
There was the diagnosis. Being truly known by the staff around her meant that when it came time to assess Laney for autism and ADHD, her youth worker Puti could provide an accurate, detailed report — something that simply wouldn't have been possible in a mainstream setting. The on-site psychologist also helped navigate the NDIS process, which Laney describes as "daunting" but ultimately life-changing.
And then there was university. Laney applied two weeks before classes started — on Puti's encouragement — and walked into her first week completely alone, knowing nobody. For someone who once couldn't step into a classroom, it was a remarkable moment.
"University has always been this really big deal in my family," she says. "And I remember thinking, 'Oh. I'm actually here.' I did it by myself."
Her dad had worried that choosing an alternative pathway would close doors. It's a concern many Perth families share when considering alternative schooling options. But Laney's experience suggests the opposite: that when a young person is given the safety, support, and space to grow at their own pace, the doors don't close — they just open differently.
"I think if I'd kept going to mainstream school, I probably wouldn't have made it this far," she says. "I don't think I would have had the motivation to keep going all the way to university."
She's now eyeing a future in forensic science, thinking about a master's degree someday, and — in the most grounded of goals — working on getting her licence. Whatever comes next, the foundation is solid.
Sometimes, the school that feels safest is exactly the one that takes you furthest.