Kids Don’t Belong in Courtrooms

The other day, we spent four hours at court. Four long hours in a place that simply isn’t meant for children.

Courtrooms are designed for procedures, paperwork, and legal arguments. They are formal, sterile spaces built around adult systems and adult language. They are not designed for small bodies, curious minds, or fragile hearts. Yet, every day, children find themselves sitting on hard benches, waiting quietly while their futures are discussed around them.

When a child is in court, it usually means something has already gone wrong in their little life. No child chooses to be there. They are there because adults have failed them, because systems have broken down, or because circumstances beyond their control have placed them in the middle of complex legal processes.

And still, they are expected to behave. They are expected to sit still.
To be quiet. To be patient. All while carrying big feelings and often even bigger trauma.

Most courthouses do have a designated children’s area. On paper, it sounds thoughtful. In reality, it is often a small corner with a handful of broken, dirty, or outdated toys. That day, I watched our boy playing there. There was a wooden kitchen with broken doors and nothing to “cook” with. A small wagon, cracked and broken with missing wheels. Deflated balls from an old ball pit. Random Lego pieces strewn across the floor. 

It was a jumble of forgotten things, yet it was the only “fun” space these children had while waiting hours in a place that felt nothing like home. And it hit me hard. This corner of broken toys, neglected and overlooked, felt like a mirror of the lives waiting in that room. Forgotten. Overlooked.
Left to make do with less.

Children notice these things. They notice when spaces are cared for and when they are not. They notice when they are welcomed and when they are merely tolerated. Even when they don’t have the words for it, they feel it. And it sends a quiet but powerful message: You are not a priority here.

Sometimes, situations like these are unavoidable. Paperwork has to be done. Boxes have to be ticked. Adults have to follow procedures. But we cannot lose sight of the fact that these are still children. Children who have often already been through the most. Children who need us to be there for them. To stand up for them. To do what makes their experience easier, safer, and kinder. Sometimes that means nothing more than providing a clean, welcoming, child-friendly space to play. A space where they can simply be children while the adults handle the grown-up matters.

We should and need to make these spaces better. Waiting areas in places like court should do more than exist. They should actively support what a child needs in that moment. That means working to create environments that are safe, welcoming, and engaging.

We understand that kids will be kids. They will throw toys, break things, and make a mess. That is part of being a child. But we can design spaces that are durable and permanent, with activities on the walls, interactive play areas, and bright, exciting colours. Things that can stay up, year after year, and continue to delight and distract children while they wait.

By intentionally designing areas that respond to children’s needs, and working together, we can transform these waiting spaces from intimidating and neglected corners into places where children feel seen, supported, and safe, even in the middle of difficult circumstances.