"This is a recipe for massive disaster," says Jim Watterson from the University of Melbourne's Graduate School of Education. "We're not even going to know the extent of it until it's time to go back to school." Loading Replay Replay video Play video Play video While schools are technically open to vulnerable kids, many "just will not go", he says. "The longer this goes on, the greater the detachment. If you don't complete year 12, it affects your income, your health and social connections for the rest of your life. This is a recipe for massive disaster. We're not even going to know the extent of it until it's time to go back to school. Jim Watterson from the University of Melbourne's Graduate School of Education "It's hard to see a strategy that will let the government pick up on the kids that will be more than just disadvantaged — they will be potentially harmed."

High schoolers are most likely to slip out of the system. Some will be lost in the transition from primary to secondary school, while older kids will find it easier to disappear because schools have less capacity to track their whereabouts. At one disadvantaged school, just one-third of students have logged onto their remote learning material, so teachers are busily tracking down hundreds of students who are unaccounted for. Already, some are not answering their phones. The departmental officers who usually knock on doors or sit down with parents or intercept kids at court appearances if they fall out of the system without permission before age 17 are no longer allowed that close social contact. "The numbers show that it's the obvious, poorly behaved, low-achieving middle-years boys [dropping out of the system], but lots of girls leave, too, who become detached from school because of mental health issues," Watterson says. One principal of a large, regional public high school is worried. "The longer this goes on, my fear is that we're going to have kids start to leave school," she says.

There are two groups of students she is most concerned about. The first group is those that are now working full-time at their supermarket or fast-food job because their casual teenage wage is the only money coming into the house after their parents lost their jobs. "Those jobs will become their station in life, and that's not giving them the opportunities they could have had if they had completed their HSC," the principal says. Loading "The second level are the kids who are highly at risk of either moving into crime or being party to crime. The police are nervous; they've got serious concerns about kids in some houses." The school is working hard to keep in touch with those students. Teachers have designed a flexible timetable that students can fit around full-time jobs if necessary, and have handed out laptops and Wi-Fi dongles.

They have also diverted their food technology budget to buy groceries. "We're dropping off bread, cheese and ham to their houses," the principal says. Mark Morrison runs Macleay Vocational College at Kempsey on the NSW mid-north coast. Some of his students are referred by Juvenile Justice, some are homeless and many come from troubled families. Up to 50 per cent of his kids are still attending school. "I think it's because I give them food," he says. "That's what they will always come for." They feel that they belong to this place. I don't think schools are given enough recognition for creating a place where kids are valued. Macleay Vocational College's Mark Morrison He too is worried about the kids who are not coming. He and his staff drive to the students' homes a few times a week with food and school work.

"We're dropping of little bits of work to them, then we go and pick it up," he says. "Is that a massive cost to me? Yes. But the out-weighing consideration is that they will not turn away from school because they feel we have a genuine care for them." But not all of his students have homes. Some live in refuges, some live on the streets. Loading Many of his kids are in out-of-home care. Foster families are feeling the pinch of having their charges, often several of them, at home all day, while those who live in residential care are no longer allowed to travel to school. "We stay in touch with them, we talk to them through a screen," Morrison says. "They feel that they belong to this place. I don't think schools are given enough recognition for creating a place where kids are valued."

Another principal said his staff devoted many hours to chasing truants and disengaged students at the best of times. In the era of COVID-19, that job has become much harder. Easter holidays will make it harder still. "I don't want the break, that's another removal — we will have less connection with our kids," he says. "The holidays are the worst time for our kids. They're not looking forward to the Easter bunny coming." Julie Hourigan Ruse, the chief executive of Fams, the peak body for not-for-profits working with vulnerable children, said teachers have been telling her that the students they were most worried about had been the first to disconnect. "They were first to stay home, to stop going to school," she says. "We know it's difficult to get these kids to school at the best of times, let alone in a world where the Prime Minister and Premier say it's OK.