One important thing the neurodivergent and traumatized child wants you to know …

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠…
𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠.

You call me defiant.
You call me a rebel.
𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼’𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡.

My brain hears a misunderstanding, a limitation,
an injustice, an insult to my identity,
and a threat to my independence.

This is my 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑦,
my 𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛,
and my 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎-𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓-𝑑𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡 kicking in.

𝐒𝐨 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 “𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭”… 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥:
“𝐼’𝑙𝑙 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 … 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑠𝑡.”

This is not rebellion.
This is self-protection through competence.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝:
This mostly happens with people I don’t feel connected with or don’t feel safe with. I feel they don’t have my best interest at heart. I feel their ego is more important to them.

So when I don’t feel safe with you, and I can’t trust you,
I have to deal with things on my own …
and I will do everything to prove you wrong.

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡…
When I DO feel safe .. when I love you, and I know you love me, and you care for me, and I trust you…

𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡.

If you tell me you can’t do something…
I will believe you. In the good and the bad.

If you tell me I can’t do something…
𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑦. 𝐵𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡.

And if you tell me I can do something,
but I don’t believe in myself (yet)…
𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑜 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑜.

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞!! 𝐀 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫
When I had just started teaching English, I had a preschool class with 24 four-year-olds.

There was one little fellow who set every single teacher off.
Today he would probably get an ADHD diagnosis.

No one knew how to handle him.
He got punishment after punishment.
Every afternoon, the parents received yet another report card telling them how bad he was.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑.

𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬:
𝐈𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 … 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞.

It didn’t take me two days to turn this child around.
Instead of telling him all the bad things he did,
I exaggerated with joy when he did something right.

I literally jumped up and down and clapped my hands:
“Oh my God, look at him! He put the crayon in the right box!
That’s amazing! Well done!!”

𝑃𝑜𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑.
𝐻𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑛𝑜 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.

It was like the first time somebody told him he did something well.
I watched his back straighten. He had the biggest smile on his face… He literally came alive.

I repeated this a few more times with other small moments.
I gave him “difficult tasks” that I entrusted to just him.

And from one moment to another … instead of setting everyone off and disturbing the class … he did his work.
And once he finished, he walked around asking his peers if they needed help.

And if they did, he helped them. Completely unasked for.

At the end of the day, I wrote a glowing report card and told him to give it to his mum.
The mother was so confused she came to see me, asking if I wrote the wrong name.
While he was standing next to her, I told her:
“Absolutely not. He was amazing today.”
I made sure he heard every good thing I said.

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲. 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝.

I will never forget their faces. From this boy, I learned:
𝐼𝑓 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 … 𝑑𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒.
And I still follow this today.
Neurodivergent and trauma-kids pretty much never respond to the usual tactics … so we need to get a bit creative around the not so obvious ones.

𝐈𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐦𝐞.

Interestingly enough, he became my eager little classroom buddy…
while remaining “the impossible child” with all the other teachers.

The approach itself wasn’t revolutionary … at all … and it doesn’t always work for every child …

but for him, it made a world of difference.
𝐇𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥.
𝐈 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 … 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟏-𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫-𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐧
This one is from one of my trainees, who I’m very proud of.
Typical ADHD class-clown profile: an 11-year-old boy.
She saw his need for connection … not just with the teacher, but with his peers.

So whenever he started to act up, she gave him one minute at the front of the class to tell a joke.
Everyone laughed… even at words that weren’t funny.
She asked them why.
They said:
“Miss, we are sitting here all day without much to laugh about.
It’s the afternoon. We need this.”

𝐇𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭.
𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.

A few weeks later, he became class president.
He would never have gotten that title before.

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐤:
Your task is to observe the child, try to understand where their behavior is coming from, what needs they are trying to meet,
and which coping strategies they use.
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑.

𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

But you can only do any of this when you:
𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑, 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑, 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑔𝑜 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟!!

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞…
𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.
I will rise higher than anyone expects or even thinks is possible.
I will make the impossible happen…
because I am capable of more than most people ever see.

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞…
Don’t support me…
Don’t see me…
And while it won’t break me,
𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.
𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠.
𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑥 𝑚𝑒.
𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠:
𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝.

When I feel loved, trusted, and safe, I will let myself be guided.
I will become everything I’m meant to be … creative, powerful, unstoppable.
𝐀 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞.

But when love turns into emotional distance, silence, or doubt,
my wings fold in … because anxiety speaks louder.

Some people grow when pushed.
I grow when believed in.

𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡, 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑒𝑡𝑦… 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑𝑠.

𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦… 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒
𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞…

𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒚.