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A Department for Education social media statement<\/a> went viral, but not in a good way. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n The Department published a mock \u2018apology\u2019<\/a> celebrating the impact of its Breakfast Club initiative.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Unfortunately, instead of sounding human or witty, it read as self-congratulatory and oddly patronising \u2013 and within hours, was circulating widely as an example of political comms gone wrong.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n As CEO of nanny company Koru Kids, I watched this with dismay for several reasons.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n I was saddened because the policy itself is well-evidenced and successful. Breakfast clubs are essential childcare infrastructure, and it\u2019s great that they\u2019ve served over 2.6 million meals. That\u2019s something to celebrate.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n But the botched announcement also revealed something deeper about trust, empathy and the currently fragile relationship between families and the state.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n One jarring aspect of the statement was its self-congratulatory tone. The government seemed to be taking credit for outcomes actually delivered by exhausted frontline workers.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Breakfast clubs have run because kitchen staff show up at dawn. Childcare works because early years educators absorb the strain every day. Attendance has improved because teachers, SENCOs and safeguarding teams grind constantly. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n Parents, too, commented the tone of the statement was \u2018off\u2019. One section said the Department\u2019s policy has given parents \u201calarming amounts of unexpected free time\u201d, suggesting British parents are now luxuriating in extra hours at the spa.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Any parent could tell you this is absurd. Parents use childcare to keep their jobs and put food on the table.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n But the humour in these cases was gentle, well-judged, and didn\u2019t punch down.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Satire only works when the audience knows you get them. That\u2019s why your friends can take the mickey out of you, but it\u2019s rude if strangers do \u2013 because the jokes have to rest on a base of trust.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Sadly, the Department of Education just has not earned the right to joke about how hard it is to be a parent. They\u2019ve misread the room. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n What\u2019s actually happening is that life is becoming ever harder for families.<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Brand-new data from Buttle UK<\/a> shows that 43% of young people in crisis think they might need to drop out of education to work. More than half (55%) of children say they\u2019re sometimes too hungry to learn. 60% of parents can\u2019t afford school shoes. 59% can\u2019t afford uniforms.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Against this backdrop, a joke about parents gaining \u201cunexpected free time\u201d doesn\u2019t just misjudge the tone \u2013 it makes people wonder whether policymakers understand what life is like for most people at the moment.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n This matters, because we are living through a profound crisis of confidence in institutions. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n People reading this statement quite reasonably think, \u201cIf they don\u2019t get it, how can we trust them to make policies in our interests?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Empathy isn\u2019t just a layer of comms you add at the end, it needs to be an integral part of the whole process. When it\u2019s missing, it makes you question the process itself.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n And that\u2019s something that really threatens us all.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Rachel Carrell is the CEO of Koru Kids.<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n