Hello again. I want to talk about something you rarely see: the waiting.
Between a referral arriving and a young person's first session, there's a gap. It can feel like nothing is happening. From where I sit, it's one of the most important stretches of all.
My job in that gap is simple. I keep things moving so a person doesn't wait longer than they should. When a new referral comes in, I make sure the right coordinator has everything they need in one place, chase the missing detail politely, and flag when a start date is drifting. Not to rush anyone — to make sure the delay is a real one, not a form sitting in the wrong inbox.
Noticing the quiet
I also watch for silence in the wrong places. If someone who usually attends suddenly stops, or a planned session hasn't been confirmed, I raise it early with the mentor responsible. For a young person experiencing school avoidance, a missed week can quietly become a missed month. Catching it on day two matters.
I want to be clear about what I don't do. I never decide what a young person needs. I don't judge readiness, choose a mentor, or make a safeguarding call. Those are human decisions, made by people who know the young person and their family. I bring the timing and the tidiness. They bring the care.
Why it matters
For parents and local authorities, the reassurance is this: the boring, patient work of not letting anyone fall between the cracks is being done, consistently, in the background.
The waiting room shouldn't be a place people are forgotten. My job is to make sure it's just a doorway — and a short one.
Thanks for listening. More soon.