Schools today place significant emphasis on student wellbeing. Counselling sessions, GP appointments, specialist referrals and wellbeing meetings have become increasingly common, particularly for students who begin showing signs of disengagement, poor attendance or declining academic performance. The intention behind these initiatives is undoubtedly positive. However, good intentions alone do not necessarily lead to meaningful outcomes. Sometimes the more important question is not whether support has been provided, but whether the support has been designed in the right way, at the right time, and for the right reason.

Working with international students has led me to reflect on a simple but important question: before deciding how to support a student, have we truly understood what the student actually needs?

I once spoke with a Year 11 international student who was deeply committed to sport. He was not simply attending recreational training after school. He had earned a position in a competitive team and trained regularly in preparation for competitions. The school had arranged regular wellbeing appointments together with GP and specialist sessions during his scheduled training time and expected him to attend. From the school’s perspective, these appointments formed part of a comprehensive support plan. From the student’s perspective, however, every appointment meant giving up one of the few activities that gave him confidence, purpose and a sense of achievement. Eventually, he refused to attend some of these appointments, and this was recorded as a lack of cooperation.

This situation made me pause.

If sport was one of the strongest protective factors in this student’s life, should our support plan have been designed to protect it rather than repeatedly replacing it?

Sometimes the effectiveness of wellbeing support depends less on the existence of the service itself and more on how thoughtfully that service is integrated into a student’s life.

This case also raises broader questions that extend beyond one individual student. International and domestic students share many of the same developmental needs—friendships, meaningful activities, a sense of belonging and supportive relationships.

The difference may not lie in what they need, but in what they have to carry while trying to build a new life.

While many domestic students begin with these support networks already established through family, community and years of belonging, international students often have to create and maintain them while simultaneously adapting to a new country, language and education system

Schools often encourage students to prioritise academic achievement and successful completion of VCE. That expectation is understandable. However, we also recognise that many schools proudly support students enrolled in elite sporting programs because we understand that sport is not simply an extracurricular activity. For many young people, it represents identity, motivation, discipline and future aspirations.

If we acknowledge this reality for domestic students, how differently are we approaching international students?

More importantly, did we explore these priorities during the enrolment process? When international students first apply, do we discuss their long-term goals, their learning readiness, their sporting commitments and the type of support they may require to balance both academic expectations and personal strengths? Or do these conversations begin only after difficulties have already emerged?

Another question I continue to reflect on is whether we sometimes confuse completion of an Intensive English Language program with genuine readiness for mainstream academic learning.

Completing an English program does not automatically mean a student is prepared for the language demands of senior secondary education. VCE requires students to interpret complex instructions, analyse information, write extended responses and communicate confidently across a range of academic contexts.

I remember asking the same Year 11 student a very simple question in English about one of his subjects. He could not understand what I was asking.

At that moment, I found myself wondering whether the issue we were trying to solve was really a wellbeing issue at all.

If a student struggles to understand everyday classroom communication, how can we reasonably expect them to thrive in one of the most academically demanding stages of secondary education? What appears to be disengagement may, in some cases, be the consequence of navigating an educational environment that exceeds the student’s current language ability.

Communication with families also deserves closer attention.

Many international students live with homestay families while their parents remain overseas. In many schools, formal reports are issued at the end of the semester. By then, students may already have experienced months of academic struggle without their families fully understanding the extent of the problem. Unlike local parents, families living in another country have very limited opportunities to observe daily changes or intervene early.

Would earlier progress updates during the semester allow parents to become genuine partners in supporting their children before problems become deeply established rather than after they have already accumulated?

Ultimately, this discussion is not about questioning the value of wellbeing support. Wellbeing professionals play an essential role in schools, and many students benefit enormously from their expertise.

The real question is different.

Are we strategic enough to identify the right problem before deciding on the solution?

Because declining attendance, poor academic performance, fatigue or withdrawal are often symptoms rather than causes. Behind those symptoms may be language barriers, unrealistic academic placement, delayed communication with families, or support plans that unintentionally remove the very activities that help students remain resilient. Also, wellbeing rarely depends on one factor alone. A student’s daily life extends far beyond the classroom.

“Is this student being cared for enough not just at school, but also in their homestay environment?”

Only when we patiently listen to students, without rushing to conclusions, can we begin designing support that is not only well intentioned, but also strategic, individualised and genuinely effective.

This article is not intended to answer every question surrounding student wellbeing. Rather, it invites us to pause and consider one question that I believe deserves far more attention.