We hand our children over to schools every morning, trusting them to be safe, supported, and educated. We picture classrooms, teachers, and books. But behind every bell that rings, every lesson that begins, and every school door that opens, stand two or more often-overlooked figures: the school secretary and the caretaker. These are not just peripheral roles; they are the beating heart of every school in this country.
Secretaries and caretakers do far more than answer phones or sweep hallways. They are the backbone of the school community—organising, comforting, fixing, guiding. They are the first face a parent sees, the first voice on the end of the phone, and the steady hands that keep a school running when chaos knocks at the door.
And yet, in 2025, these essential workers are still fighting for basic rights—most notably, a fair pension. Currently, more than 2,500 secretaries and caretakers are on indefinite strike, seeking the same entitlements enjoyed by their colleagues: teachers and SNAs. What they’re asking for is not luxury—it’s dignity. It’s the right to retire without fear, to be able to afford to live after a life of service. It is equality.
We hear stories from school communities across the country: of secretaries who receive no sick pay, of caretakers who are denied public service pensions despite working in public buildings, and of government silence that is as shocking as it is cruel. A bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates at the end of a long psychologically-draining career might be appreciated—but it won’t butter the bread. Gratitude without fair pay and secure pensions is nothing more than empty thanks.
More than just a job, these roles are deeply personal. Children learn their first lessons in empathy, respect, and kindness not just from their teachers but from everyone around them. Secretaries and caretakers are often the quiet role models in their lives. They offer a calm word, a repaired backpack, a moment of encouragement. In small, unseen ways, they shape our children’s understanding of what it means to care and be cared for.
This is not just about pensions; it’s about values. It is about how we, as a society, treat those who do vital, unglamorous work. It’s about whether we see the people who run our schools as equal members of the education community or as second-class workers who can be ignored when it comes to basic entitlements.
What message does it send to children when they see the people they rely on every day treated as less worthy than others in the same building? What lesson do they learn when those who care for them are not cared for by the system?
There is power in solidarity, and this strike has shown that. Teachers, SNAs, principals, and parents have joined the picket lines—not to cause disruption, but to make a point that has gone unheeded for too long. The disruption is real, yes, and deeply felt, particularly by the most vulnerable children. But the responsibility for that lies with the Government, whose refusal to engage is prolonging the pain.
To say “we support our school secretaries and caretakers” means nothing if we continue to allow them to work without parity or respect. This country has rightly praised frontline workers during difficult times—let us not forget that school administrators and caretakers were there too, showing up in every storm, every crisis, with little fanfare and even less reward.
If we truly value our children, we must also value the people who keep their schools alive. That starts with fair pensions, equal treatment, and a little respect. It is long overdue.
