As a proud mum to two adopted children, and as deputy chief executive officer of a multi-academy trust, I live daily at the intersection of lived experience and professional responsibility. For me, the focus schools must give to looked-after and previously looked-after children is not a strategic bolt on or a compliance requirement. It is a moral imperative. Children who are, or have been, in care come to school carrying layers of vulnerability and complexity that too often remain unseen. Early trauma, disrupted attachments, instability in early education and ongoing challenges around identity and belonging form very real barriers to learning. These do not simply fade with time, they compound. Gaps in attendance, difficulties with emotional regulation and fractured relationships with adults all take their toll on confidence and engagement, long before outcomes are measured. The longer-term impact of these experiences is stark. Data published by the Office for Students shows that for the 2018-19 cohort, only 13 per cent of young people who had been looked after continuously for 12 months or more progressed to higher education, compared with 43 per cent of their peers. This remains one of the most sobering indicators of how far our system still has to go in turning early care experiences into equitable life chances. Missing ingredient Aspiration may be cited as the missing ingredient. From both professional insight and personal experience, I would argue instead that aspiration is present, but fragile. It is easily undermined by unmet emotional needs, by disrupted schooling, and by systems that sometimes prioritise outcomes over understanding. When school becomes another place where a child feels unsafe, misunderstood or judged, aspiration and esteem quietly erode long before exam results are published. At HEARTS Academy Trust, we work deliberately to redefine possibilities for all pupils. Looked-after and previously looked-after pupils remain visible and prioritised at every level of our organisation. These children are tracked rigorously at executive level within both our strategic disadvantaged and inclusion trust groups, ensuring sustained oversight rather than reactive intervention. Within our schools, the designated teacher and headteacher hold joint responsibility for knowing every child’s story, strengths and needs. Termly reports track attendance, attainment and academic progress, but also focus on social and emotional development, recognising that emotional safety is often the gateway to learning for children who have experienced care. Three times a year, detailed provision outlines are shared with parents and carers. These set out each child’s needs, the provision being delivered, and the associated costs, with transparent breakdowns of staffing time, salary and targeted resource support, alongside the statutory funding received and any additional trust investment. This transparency matters. It ensures provision is purposeful, relational and responsive, rather than tokenistic. Making a difference As a mum, I know that small, consistent acts of care and understanding can change a child’s trajectory. I know that sometimes only love and contentment is needed to make the difference. As a system leader, I also know that unless schools build structures that hold looked-after and previously looked-after children firmly at the centre, good intentions will never be enough. At HEARTS Academy Trust, our looked-after and previously looked-after children are never reduced to statistics or standardised interventions. They are known, named and understood as individuals, with provision rooted in their lived experience rather than what appears sufficient on paper. When children are genuinely seen, support is purposeful, relationships are secure and the impact is not fleeting but transformational. Finally, it is important to acknowledge that the most recent national data on progression to higher education for looked-after children relates to the 2018-19 cohort. That lag is not incidental. It reflects the complexity of tracking young people who have experienced care across fragmented systems. It also mirrors the very instability that so often characterises their lives. But an absence of newer data must never become an excuse for inaction. If anything, it sharpens our responsibility. Until our system can evidence markedly different outcomes, we must assume that these inequities persist and act accordingly. The way we prioritise looked-after and previously looked-after children today will determine whether future data finally tells a different story – one of belonging, aspiration and genuine opportunity.