Thank you once again for an insightful and important contribution.I would only add that the power over infrastructure of the school adds to the dilemma. For if the compliance is not met then punishment looms all the way up to principals and expulsion. And boredom often leads to mediocre grades. Both lead to feelings of failure for most children, and feelings attendant to belief that their parents will be disappointed in them no matter how understanding the parents are.
One more insult is that the curriculum rarely is developmentally appropriate. And that peer relationships are not nurtured in the classroom.
Last, there is the assumption that family and school share the same values. I, for one, would never rumble on another student. Just wasn't my family ethic. Yet the school threatened me with Draconian punishments if I didn't. That problem belonged to the administration and my parents, not to me.
Thank you for your thoughtful and important comment. Much of what you describe was perhaps beyond the scope of this particular article, but I recognise many of those additional dynamics too. I often found that this pattern became more difficult rather than less as children got older, particularly as they moved into secondary education where expectations, pressures and consequences generally become much greater.
Sam used to walk out of school and hit his younger sister or brother immediately. It is so hard for a parent to make sense of. But then he wasn't fine at school! My grandson who is nine is no trouble at all at school but absolutely falls apart when he gets home. School have refused to support an autism assessment yet we see so clearly the cost of his masking.
Thank you, Davina. Sam not being fine at school is such an important observation and speaks to the complexity of how children can appear across different environments. The behaviour that appeared afterwards was drawing attention to something, and so often our focus settles on the release rather than what may have been building beforehand.
And your grandson... I think this is one of the hardest parts for families. They are often being asked to explain a cost that they can see clearly, but which may not be visible to others in the same way.
Such an interesting and thought provoking post, thank you for sharing. My son, who’s 9 (recently diagnosed with dyslexia) very often comes out of school and literally has to shout or simply make loud noises, move his body etc. At first, I told him to calm down, but after this happening at least 3 times a week I realised it was his form of somatic release, whereby he’d had to stay mainly quiet, still, and meet expectations all day. Now I just let him be. I feel I’m his safe space because he’ll only have these releases when I’m there (we do have a fair few angry outbursts at home also!)
Thank you. I really relate to the shift you describe from trying to stop the behaviour to trying to understand it. Your description of it as somatic release makes a lot of sense to me. It sounds as though he's found a way to discharge some of what he's been carrying through the day. The fact that it happens with you also says something beautiful about the trust between you. Children are remarkably adaptable, and I think we often underestimate how much energy can go into meeting the demands of an environment for hours at a time. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you for this excellent and very precise article. It deeply resonated with me.
I will not write from the perspective of a parent or a special education teacher, but from the position of a child who experienced all of this throughout childhood. I had never looked at it from this external perspective until reading this article. It felt normal to me, and even my parents did not feel that anything was wrong. From infancy, I was a more demanding child, so they considered it part of my temperament.
I was academically successful and enjoyed going to school. Nevertheless, while reading the article, I was immediately reminded of a constant feeling of tension, fear of failure, and anxiety about being worse than others. I am neurodivergent, and in childhood I was diagnosed with dyslexia and dysgraphia. At the same time, I always wanted to be perfect, do things correctly, and be the best. No one demanded this of me at home; on the contrary, my parents tried to reduce pressure through their supportive approach. To some extent, this is likely part of my personality.
At the time, I would have said that no one at school demanded this of me either. However, looking back, we were constantly evaluated, graded, and compared – both in academic performance and behaviour. Successful children were highlighted in front of the whole class, often the same ones, because schools tend to reward only certain areas. Yet each of us has strengths in different things, and all of them deserve recognition.
When additional sensory overload is added to this, such an outcome becomes entirely understandable. I believe many children would benefit if at least the constant comparison and pressure for performance were removed.
From a mother’s perspective, I have a son who experiences similar states both at home and at school. For a long time, this was very difficult for me, because dealing with a challenging child while also navigating situations with others is not easy. I often recall the words of one psychologist: “Be glad that it comes out immediately. The biggest difficulties are often carried by those who keep everything inside.” I also found the mention that school environment itself is not examined, but everything else, absolutely striking. It is very accurate, and I hope this perspective reaches as many professionals as possible so that school environments are also included in research.
Thank you so much for sharing this. What you describe from your own childhood is exactly the kind of thing I was hoping to explore. Children adapt so completely to what they experience that it often simply becomes normal, particularly when they are achieving well and not causing concern for the adults around them. I was especially interested in your reflection that no one was explicitly demanding perfection from you, yet school was constantly communicating messages about performance, comparison and success. So much of what shapes children sits within the environment itself. And I appreciated what you shared about your son too. The psychologist’s observation feels very relevant here. At least when struggles are expressed outwardly, something becomes visible. The children who keep everything inside can be much easier to miss.
I agree. Sometimes parents worry that the fact their child falls apart at home means they are doing something wrong. Yet often it can be evidence of the opposite — that home is the place where the child no longer feels the need to keep adapting quite so intensely. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Gem, this is one of the most important pieces I have read in a long time. You have put into words something I have observed repeatedly in my work — and something that has quietly unsettled me for years.
The cost of adaptation is real. And so much of it is environmental in ways we rarely talk about honestly.
I think about the classrooms I walk into, walls covered floor to ceiling in brightly coloured displays, every inch a visual stimulus. As learning support specialists we often recommend reducing that kind of clutter, particularly for children with sensory sensitivities. But some teachers love to showcase children's work this way, and the recommendation gets quietly set aside. Then there is the noise. I have been in classrooms where the sound level is so high that even I feel overwhelmed walking in, and I have heard teachers say "the children get used to it." But do they? Or do they just stop showing that they haven't? Add in stale, musty air that never quite gets changed, and you have an environment that is asking a great deal of a nervous system just to survive the day, let alone learn in it.
And what you said about the child who holds it together and then releases at home, I want to add something to that picture. Because not every child explodes. Some of them don't go home and rage. They go quietly to the backyard. They need time alone to decompress before they can even speak. They go to bed very early, completely exhausted by the effort of the day. Their parents describe them as "fine" — and in one sense they are. But the exhaustion tells its own story.
Adaptation that is invisible is still adaptation. And it is still costing something.
Thank you, I really appreciate this. What you've described about noise, visual stimulation and the cumulative demands of the environment echoes so many of the observations that gradually shifted my own thinking over the years. And yes — "the children get used to it" is one of those phrases that sounds reassuring until you sit with it for a moment and ask what we actually mean by it.
Also, you're so right to highlight the children whose adaptation remains almost entirely invisible… Not every child falls apart. Some simply spend enormous amounts of energy holding themselves together and then use whatever time they can find to recover.
Thank you once again for an insightful and important contribution.I would only add that the power over infrastructure of the school adds to the dilemma. For if the compliance is not met then punishment looms all the way up to principals and expulsion. And boredom often leads to mediocre grades. Both lead to feelings of failure for most children, and feelings attendant to belief that their parents will be disappointed in them no matter how understanding the parents are.
One more insult is that the curriculum rarely is developmentally appropriate. And that peer relationships are not nurtured in the classroom.
Last, there is the assumption that family and school share the same values. I, for one, would never rumble on another student. Just wasn't my family ethic. Yet the school threatened me with Draconian punishments if I didn't. That problem belonged to the administration and my parents, not to me.
Where is the safety?
Thank you for your thoughtful and important comment. Much of what you describe was perhaps beyond the scope of this particular article, but I recognise many of those additional dynamics too. I often found that this pattern became more difficult rather than less as children got older, particularly as they moved into secondary education where expectations, pressures and consequences generally become much greater.
Sam used to walk out of school and hit his younger sister or brother immediately. It is so hard for a parent to make sense of. But then he wasn't fine at school! My grandson who is nine is no trouble at all at school but absolutely falls apart when he gets home. School have refused to support an autism assessment yet we see so clearly the cost of his masking.
Thank you, Davina. Sam not being fine at school is such an important observation and speaks to the complexity of how children can appear across different environments. The behaviour that appeared afterwards was drawing attention to something, and so often our focus settles on the release rather than what may have been building beforehand.
And your grandson... I think this is one of the hardest parts for families. They are often being asked to explain a cost that they can see clearly, but which may not be visible to others in the same way.
Yes. This is exactly it. The hitting being seen as the problem rather than the suppression of frustration leading up to it.
Such an interesting and thought provoking post, thank you for sharing. My son, who’s 9 (recently diagnosed with dyslexia) very often comes out of school and literally has to shout or simply make loud noises, move his body etc. At first, I told him to calm down, but after this happening at least 3 times a week I realised it was his form of somatic release, whereby he’d had to stay mainly quiet, still, and meet expectations all day. Now I just let him be. I feel I’m his safe space because he’ll only have these releases when I’m there (we do have a fair few angry outbursts at home also!)
Thank you. I really relate to the shift you describe from trying to stop the behaviour to trying to understand it. Your description of it as somatic release makes a lot of sense to me. It sounds as though he's found a way to discharge some of what he's been carrying through the day. The fact that it happens with you also says something beautiful about the trust between you. Children are remarkably adaptable, and I think we often underestimate how much energy can go into meeting the demands of an environment for hours at a time. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you for this excellent and very precise article. It deeply resonated with me.
I will not write from the perspective of a parent or a special education teacher, but from the position of a child who experienced all of this throughout childhood. I had never looked at it from this external perspective until reading this article. It felt normal to me, and even my parents did not feel that anything was wrong. From infancy, I was a more demanding child, so they considered it part of my temperament.
I was academically successful and enjoyed going to school. Nevertheless, while reading the article, I was immediately reminded of a constant feeling of tension, fear of failure, and anxiety about being worse than others. I am neurodivergent, and in childhood I was diagnosed with dyslexia and dysgraphia. At the same time, I always wanted to be perfect, do things correctly, and be the best. No one demanded this of me at home; on the contrary, my parents tried to reduce pressure through their supportive approach. To some extent, this is likely part of my personality.
At the time, I would have said that no one at school demanded this of me either. However, looking back, we were constantly evaluated, graded, and compared – both in academic performance and behaviour. Successful children were highlighted in front of the whole class, often the same ones, because schools tend to reward only certain areas. Yet each of us has strengths in different things, and all of them deserve recognition.
When additional sensory overload is added to this, such an outcome becomes entirely understandable. I believe many children would benefit if at least the constant comparison and pressure for performance were removed.
From a mother’s perspective, I have a son who experiences similar states both at home and at school. For a long time, this was very difficult for me, because dealing with a challenging child while also navigating situations with others is not easy. I often recall the words of one psychologist: “Be glad that it comes out immediately. The biggest difficulties are often carried by those who keep everything inside.” I also found the mention that school environment itself is not examined, but everything else, absolutely striking. It is very accurate, and I hope this perspective reaches as many professionals as possible so that school environments are also included in research.
Thank you so much for sharing this. What you describe from your own childhood is exactly the kind of thing I was hoping to explore. Children adapt so completely to what they experience that it often simply becomes normal, particularly when they are achieving well and not causing concern for the adults around them. I was especially interested in your reflection that no one was explicitly demanding perfection from you, yet school was constantly communicating messages about performance, comparison and success. So much of what shapes children sits within the environment itself. And I appreciated what you shared about your son too. The psychologist’s observation feels very relevant here. At least when struggles are expressed outwardly, something becomes visible. The children who keep everything inside can be much easier to miss.
Thank you again for such a thoughtful comment.
Providing a safe, calm environment where are children can let go and be themselves is a gift. Unconditional love allows our children to feel safe.
I agree. Sometimes parents worry that the fact their child falls apart at home means they are doing something wrong. Yet often it can be evidence of the opposite — that home is the place where the child no longer feels the need to keep adapting quite so intensely. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Gem, this is one of the most important pieces I have read in a long time. You have put into words something I have observed repeatedly in my work — and something that has quietly unsettled me for years.
The cost of adaptation is real. And so much of it is environmental in ways we rarely talk about honestly.
I think about the classrooms I walk into, walls covered floor to ceiling in brightly coloured displays, every inch a visual stimulus. As learning support specialists we often recommend reducing that kind of clutter, particularly for children with sensory sensitivities. But some teachers love to showcase children's work this way, and the recommendation gets quietly set aside. Then there is the noise. I have been in classrooms where the sound level is so high that even I feel overwhelmed walking in, and I have heard teachers say "the children get used to it." But do they? Or do they just stop showing that they haven't? Add in stale, musty air that never quite gets changed, and you have an environment that is asking a great deal of a nervous system just to survive the day, let alone learn in it.
And what you said about the child who holds it together and then releases at home, I want to add something to that picture. Because not every child explodes. Some of them don't go home and rage. They go quietly to the backyard. They need time alone to decompress before they can even speak. They go to bed very early, completely exhausted by the effort of the day. Their parents describe them as "fine" — and in one sense they are. But the exhaustion tells its own story.
Adaptation that is invisible is still adaptation. And it is still costing something.
Thank you for writing this. 🙏
Thank you, I really appreciate this. What you've described about noise, visual stimulation and the cumulative demands of the environment echoes so many of the observations that gradually shifted my own thinking over the years. And yes — "the children get used to it" is one of those phrases that sounds reassuring until you sit with it for a moment and ask what we actually mean by it.
Also, you're so right to highlight the children whose adaptation remains almost entirely invisible… Not every child falls apart. Some simply spend enormous amounts of energy holding themselves together and then use whatever time they can find to recover.