Delegated authority, consent, and the “sections” people mention

This guide is here because carers are often asked to make decisions at speed, with half the information, and a child who just wants you to be the grown up who can say yes. Use it to sense-check what usually sits where, then check the child’s placement plan and delegated authority record.

Usually delegated Needs PR Social worker Court sometimes

The big idea, who can actually consent

Start here

Foster carers do not have parental responsibility. Any authority you have to agree to things comes from delegated authority, usually written into the placement plan and delegated authority agreement.

Section 20 matters because the local authority does not have parental responsibility under Section 20, so consent often still sits with parents or others with parental responsibility, unless the young person can consent for themselves.

Care Order matters because the local authority shares parental responsibility under a Care Order, which usually makes decision routes clearer and quicker.

Common documents: Placement plan Delegated authority record Contact plan Health plan

Sections you might hear, plain English

Quick key

Section 17, Child in Need Support plan +

In plain English: Extra support from the local authority because a child’s needs are not being met without services.

Why carers should care: You will hear about plans and meetings, but this is not automatically a Child Protection process.

Section 47, Child Protection enquiries Harm concerns +

In plain English: Enquiries start when professionals suspect significant harm, or risk of it.

Why carers should care: Information sharing speeds up, and professionals focus on immediate safety and protective action.

Section 20, voluntary accommodation Needs PR +

In plain English: The child is looked after by agreement, not by a court order.

What this changes day to day: The local authority does not have parental responsibility under Section 20, so consent often still sits with parents or others with parental responsibility, unless the young person can consent themselves.

Carer move: Ask for written clarity on what you can agree to, and what must go back to parents or the social worker.

Section 31, threshold for care proceedings Court sometimes +

In plain English: The court test used in care proceedings. If met, the court can make a Care Order or Supervision Order.

Why carers should care: Planning becomes more formal, with clearer routes for decisions and contact.

Section 38, Interim Care Order Social worker +

In plain English: A temporary court order while proceedings are still ongoing.

Why carers should care: Decision making is usually more straightforward, but still check what is delegated to you in writing.

Section 33, parental responsibility under a Care Order Social worker +

In plain English: Under a Care Order, the local authority shares parental responsibility and can limit how others use theirs to safeguard the child.

Why carers should care: This often sits underneath permissions, contact decisions, and what can be delegated to carers.

Common decisions carers get asked about

Practical examples

Each item below includes examples carers recognise, like vaccinations, name changes, and school trips. It is written for foster carers and kinship foster carers, but the same “check the plan” logic applies.

Vaccinations and immunisations Usually delegated Needs PR +

Typical examples: Flu jab, MMR catch-up, HPV at school, COVID boosters, travel vaccines.

Often delegated

Routine vaccinations where the plan says you can consent.
Booking appointments and attending with the child.

Usually needs someone with parental responsibility

If the placement is under Section 20 and the child is not able to consent themselves, consent often needs to come from a parent or other person with parental responsibility.
If there is disagreement, it should go back through the social worker and health professionals rather than being battled out at the GP desk.

Carer move: Ask for delegated authority to be written clearly for immunisations, so you are not guessing when the school nurse hands you a consent form.

Medical treatment, from GP visits to surgery Usually delegated Social worker +

Typical examples: Antibiotics, dental treatment, blood tests, x-rays, CAMHS referral, minor procedures, general anaesthetic.

Usually delegated: Day-to-day medical appointments, routine medication, and consenting to basic examinations, if your placement plan says so.

Usually escalated: Surgery, general anaesthetic, complex treatment plans, and anything contentious, especially under Section 20.

Carer move: Keep a note of who should be contacted out of hours, and what to do if a hospital asks, “Who has parental responsibility?”.

Therapy, counselling, and mental health support Social worker Usually delegated +

Typical examples: Play therapy, counselling, trauma therapy, CAMHS assessment, ADHD medication reviews.

Usually delegated: Attending sessions, sharing day-to-day observations, helping the child engage, consenting to routine school-based support.

Usually needs agreement: Formal assessments, starting certain medications, or long-term therapeutic plans, especially where parents need to be kept involved under Section 20.

School life, trips, photos, and day-to-day permissions Usually delegated +

Typical examples: Local school trips, clubs, PE kit, school photos, homework apps, breakfast club, swimming lessons.

Usually delegated: Most routine school permissions so the child can live a normal life, if delegated authority covers it.

Watch-outs: Some schools treat photo consent and online platforms as “data consent”, so it is worth clarifying in the placement plan.

Travel outside the UK, holidays, and passports Needs PR Social worker Court sometimes +

Typical examples: Holiday abroad, school trip abroad, applying for a passport, emergency travel, taking a child to see family overseas.

Usually needs someone with parental responsibility: Permission to take a child abroad is commonly expected to be backed by a person with parental responsibility, and often coordinated by the social worker.

Court sometimes: If there is dispute, restrictions, or specific court orders in place, travel may need legal advice or a court decision.

Carer move: Do not book anything non-refundable until you have written confirmation of consent and the plan.

Names, changing a child’s name, and “known as” names Needs PR Court sometimes +

Typical examples: Changing surname, changing forename, swapping to a middle name, changing how the school lists the child, changing a name on GP records.

Usually needs consent: A formal name change normally requires consent from everyone with parental responsibility, or a court decision if there is disagreement.

“Known as” can be different: Some teams may agree a child can be called something different day to day for safety or wellbeing, without formally changing their legal name, but it should still be agreed and recorded.

Carer move: If a child asks to change their name, treat it as a story, not a form. Raise it with the social worker, explore safety and identity reasons, and avoid doing anything official without written agreement.

Haircuts, appearance, piercings, and cultural choices Usually delegated Social worker +

Typical examples: Haircut, hair dye, style changes, ear piercing, acrylic nails, religious or cultural hair practices.

Usually delegated: Routine haircuts and normal day-to-day grooming, if the plan supports it.

Usually escalated: Piercings, significant changes, or anything likely to trigger family conflict, should be discussed and recorded first.

Sleepovers, phones, social media, and online life Usually delegated Social worker +

Typical examples: Sleepover at a friend’s house, own phone contract, WhatsApp, Snapchat, TikTok, gaming chat, sharing photos.

Usually delegated: Many day-to-day decisions sit with carers, but should align with safer care planning and the child’s risk assessment.

Usually escalated: If there is known exploitation risk, contact restrictions, or a safety plan linked to online harm, decisions should be made with the social worker and recorded clearly.

Contact, family time, and changing arrangements Social worker Needs PR +

Typical examples: Changing the venue, cancelling a session, increasing or reducing contact, allowing “informal” contact with extended family.

Usually not a carer-only decision: Contact is a safeguarding and legal planning area, so changes should go through the social worker, and sometimes the court if proceedings are underway.

Carer move: You can record impact and raise concerns quickly, but avoid changing contact arrangements on your own unless there is immediate safety risk and you are following an agreed emergency plan.

This resource is general guidance for carers. It is not legal advice. Always check the child’s placement plan and delegated authority agreement, because local arrangements and court orders can add extra rules. If a professional asks you for consent and you are unsure, pause, ask what the decision is, what the urgency is, and who holds parental responsibility in this child’s legal status.

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Children in foster care don’t usually lie in the way adults think of lying – not with the cold calculation of a fraudster in a Netflix documentary. More often it’s a kind of survival tactic, almost automatic. Trauma specialists even talk about it as a “fourth F.” You’ve heard of fight, flight, freeze… well, lying becomes another option. Not to get one over on you, but to dodge the sting of shame, or the dread of being punished, or simply the awful feeling of being powerless.

That’s where the Curiosity Lens comes in. Imagine putting on a pair of invisible glasses or holding up a magnifying glass. Instead of seeing the fib at face value, you start to see what’s underneath it – the fear of rejection, the nervous energy, the shame the child doesn’t know how to name. With PACE in mind – curiosity and acceptance especially – you suspend the moral outrage, the urge to shout “just tell me the truth,” and you lean in gently instead.

It’s not about catching them out. It’s about keeping the conversation alive. As one parenting guide wisely put it: stay exploratory, keep wondering aloud. If you shame them, they’ll close the door. If you stay curious, they might just leave it ajar.

And when you respond with genuine interest – “I wonder what made it hard to tell me…” – you send a message that’s bigger than any single lie: I’m not here to trap you, or humiliate you. I’m here to understand you. That, over time, is how trust grows. They learn you’ll meet their honesty with compassion, not punishment. And that changes everything.

“Hmm, that’s an interesting story you’ve told me. I wonder if maybe it feels safer to say that than what really happened? If you’re worried about getting in trouble, you don’t have to be – you are safe with me. Whatever happened, we can sort it out together. Can you help me understand what’s going on?”

(This phrasing invites the child to explain, without outright accusing them of lying. It uses "I wonder" instead of "You’re lying", signalling curiosity. You might even playfully put on “magic truth glasses” with your fingers, if age-appropriate, to lighten the moment and show the child they’re not angry.)

Many children in care carry a kind of hidden script in their heads. It says: I am bad. It’s my fault. They don’t usually say it out loud, but it’s there, humming away. It comes from years of early hurt, of being rejected again and again. Some even learn that if they show real feelings – sadness, anger, longing – it might lead to punishment, or worse, abandonment. So they tuck those feelings away, and the shame festers.

This is where the Acceptance Shield comes in. It’s less superhero cape, more everyday armour. You hold it up, deliberately and consistently, to protect the child from those shame-arrows. It means making a very clear distinction: I don’t always like your behaviour, but I always accept you.

In PACE terms, it’s acceptance and empathy working in tandem. You meet the child’s feelings as they are, even the messy ones. You empathise with the shame they’re drowning in. And practically, it means tempering your own response. No harsh telling-off. No thunderous disappointment. Instead: “You’re not a bad kid. I get why this happened. And I still care about you.”

Because here’s the thing: children watch closely for whether their inner world is safe with you. If you counter their self-criticism – “I’m stupid, I’m bad” – with calm, believable truths – “You’re good, you’re worthy” – you’re teaching them a new script. One where they’re not discarded for messing up. One where they’re covered.

And when you hold that shield day after day, the child starts to believe it. Their sense of self stitches back together. They start to grow resilience against shame and rejection. And in that, the bond between you becomes their secure base – something solid, at last, in a life that’s often felt shaky.

“I know you feel really bad about this. It’s okay – we all make mistakes, but I want you to hear this: I’m not angry and I’m not leaving. I love you no matter what. Nothing will change that. Let’s figure out how to make it right together when you’re ready.”

(This script explicitly assures the child of your enduring acceptance. Phrases like “no matter what” and “nothing will change that” directly address fear of rejection. You might literally open your arms like a shield or put an arm around the child if appropriate, to physically reinforce the feeling of protection and safety.)

Defiance in children can feel like a brick wall. They cross their arms, scowl, and say “No!” with the kind of finality usually reserved for magistrates. And you feel that surge of frustration rising – the urge to push back harder. But there’s another option.

The Playful Pause is about puncturing that tense balloon with a bit of silliness. A ridiculous face. A pretend dragon lurking in the room. A mock-serious “emergency” about socks refusing to cooperate. It sounds daft, and in a way it is. But daftness is often what works.

The magic of playfulness is that it pauses the power struggle. It shifts the dynamic from “me against you” to “me with you.” For a younger child, it might be full-on theatrics. For a teenager, maybe a raised eyebrow and a wry, self-deprecating joke. Either way, it says: I’m not your enemy. We can reset this together.

It doesn’t mean ignoring the behaviour. It just means you’re smart enough to know that humour can sneak past defences that sternness never will. And once you’ve both laughed, even a little, the wall crumbles. Suddenly there’s room to carry on. Together.

In a mock-serious narrator voice: “Oh no... the Defiance Dragon has entered the room! It’s making us both all grumpy. Quick, I have an idea – I’ll make a funny face to scare it off… 😜 See, the dragon is laughing! Can you give it a try? [Child pulls a face] Hooray, we scared it away together!” (Both laugh, tension breaks) “Alright, shall we give (the task) another go now?”

In this playful script, you create a tiny imaginative game (“Defiance Dragon”) to externalise the child’s defiance as something we can team up against playfully. The exact script can vary widely by age (for a teenager, humour might be more understated, like you suddenly doing a goofy dance and saying “Ugh, what a morning – shall we hit reset and start over?” with a grin). The essence is to surprise the child out of the stuck position with levity. Your willingness to be a bit silly shows the child it’s safe to drop their guard. Once the child smiles or giggles, even briefly, the emotional climate shifts – we (you and the child) are connected again, and the task or issue can often be revisited with less resistance.

When a child withdraws – shuts the bedroom door, curls up silent on the bed – it’s tempting to take it personally. To knock loudly, or to storm off yourself. But here’s the truth: often what’s happening is less about you and more about the child drowning in feelings they can’t quite put words to. Shame, sadness, fear.

The Empathy Bridge is about reaching across that gap. Not forcing them to talk, not demanding eye contact, but sending a quiet signal: I see you. I understand. And I’m here. Maybe it’s a few calm words through the door. Maybe it’s leaving a note or a favourite snack outside. Maybe it’s just sitting nearby, available.

The visual is a bridge of hearts or hands. You stand on your side, they on theirs. And you extend something across – empathy – so when they’re ready, they can walk back over. The bridge is patient. It doesn’t collapse if they don’t use it straight away.

This says to the child: Even if you push me away, I won’t give up on you. And in time, that’s how trust is built. They learn that silence won’t scare you off. That feelings won’t break the relationship. And that you are a steady presence on the far side of the cliff, always waiting, always ready to welcome them back.

(You speak through the door or next to the withdrawn child, calmly and kindly): “I know it’s been a really upsetting day. If I were you, I might want to hide under the covers too. Just wanted to say I understand why you feel that way, and it’s alright. I’m here whenever you feel like talking or even if you just want a hug. Take your time – I’m not going anywhere.”

(In this script, you're naming and normalising the child’s likely feelings, showing empathy: “I’d feel the same if I were in your shoes.” There’s also an explicit assurance of presence: “I’m here… I’m not going anywhere,” which is crucial for a child worried about being given up on. The tone is gentle, not demanding a response. You might sit quietly nearby, or leave a soft toy or drawing materials as an invitation. The child then knows the bridge is there whenever they are ready to cross back into interaction. Even if the child doesn’t respond immediately, such messages sink in and over time the child will trust that the carer truly cares and empathises with them.)