Rethinking Wellbeing and Behaviour Support in Schools
- Cath Grant
- May 30
- 4 min read

In recent years, terms like violence and wellbeing have become frequent in education discourse. Across many schools, well-intentioned solutions have emerged—calm corners adorned with fairy lights, breathing strategy posters, and designated “reset spaces.” These initiatives can be helpful in some contexts, but it’s time for a more honest conversation about what wellbeing truly means in the classroom—particularly in schools where students are arriving with significant social and emotional challenges.
Let’s consider a typical moment: a student has a severe emotional outburst because their pencil lead has broken. In this moment of dysregulation, asking the child to sit in a teepee with soft cushions and “rainbow breathe” will not bring immediate calm. For students who lack the foundational skills for self-regulation, these aesthetic approaches—while well-meaning—simply aren’t enough. True wellbeing support is not about classroom décor. It is about deep, consistent, team-based approaches rooted in the school’s values and culture.
Unless a child has already been raised in an environment where co-regulation and emotional literacy are modelled consistently, they often enter school without the skills needed to manage big emotions. In today’s tech-driven world, we see more and more children self-soothing with screens, games, or distraction. Ten years later, we now have classrooms filled with children who struggle to cope with frustration, resolve conflict, or tolerate ambiguity. This reality is not the result of poor teaching—it is the by-product of a wider social shift.
To make a meaningful difference, wellbeing must go far beyond visual reminders and into the realm of character development, team-based support, and whole-school alignment. The most effective examples I have seen are schools where every staff member works together to support a child’s regulation plan.
In one such school, a class included three fish tanks—not for decoration, but as part of a whole-school regulation strategy. If a student became dysregulated, they could be quietly redirected to visit the fish. Students in that class had been taught to support this process with calmness and quiet. There was no fanfare, no disruption—just a shared understanding. The strategy worked because it was embedded in culture, not just practice.
Other schools used similar tools: a classroom with stick insects, another with caterpillars and butterflies. These were not distractions; they were purposeful sensory and curiosity-based regulation opportunities. The key? These were collectively supported by students, teachers, and leaders alike.
Wellbeing initiatives must recognise that not all students arrive at school with the same capacity for regulation. For some, it’s not a matter of reminding them to “breathe”—it’s about explicitly teaching and scaffolding regulation, often from the ground up. That takes time, consistency, and collaboration.
In my leadership experience, I have seen that the most effective wellbeing support emerges when teachers are empowered, supported, and backed by leadership. It cannot fall solely on the classroom teacher. Without systemic support, teachers are stretched too thin. When relief staff are unavailable, when leadership is absorbed in higher-order demands, or when policies don’t back a teacher's judgement, students—and learning—suffer.
Violence in classrooms is real. And it doesn’t just impact the teacher or the child in crisis—it affects every child in the room. Calm corners do not address the post-traumatic stress that some children are experiencing simply by being present during repeated violent incidents. When a child is persistently violent or dysregulated, school leadership must step in—not just to remove the child, but to understand why the behaviour is occurring and ensure that a team—including health professionals—is engaged.
This is not about punishment. It is about proactive, compassionate, and structured intervention. If a child has been consistently supported by a skilled teacher, and the dysregulation continues, it is time for deeper assessment. This is not the teacher’s failure. It is a signal that further professional support—paediatric, psychological, or both—is needed.
For too long, teachers have been blamed for behaviours beyond their control. We hear: “Their strategies aren’t working,” or “They lack experience.” This is not only unfair—it is inaccurate. Today’s teachers are some of the most skilled, adaptive, and creative professionals we’ve ever had in classrooms. Many are designing innovative, differentiated, and inclusive curriculum—but are held back by the daily impact of extreme behaviour without adequate structural or leadership support.
This does not mean we give up on these children. On the contrary—it means we must rally around them as a community, not leave it to one teacher in one room to manage crisis after crisis. Every child has the right to learn—including those whose learning is disrupted by the ongoing dysregulation of others. Balancing this requires leadership, teamwork, and courage.
If a child has ADHD, for example, then strategies, environmental adjustments, and—when necessary—medical support should be explored. A parent may choose to manage ADHD naturally at home, but the implications for classroom learning must still be addressed in partnership with the school. When a child is constantly interrupting, fidgeting, calling out, or struggling to focus, this directly impacts their peers. It's not just a classroom issue—it’s a whole-school concern.
The key to transforming violent or dysregulated behaviour in schools lies in team ownership. No child should belong to just one teacher or one classroom—they belong to the whole community. And that community must have systems in place to ensure safety, consistency, and trust.
Schools must move beyond surface-level wellbeing programs. Fancy posters, cushions, and breathing prompts have a place—but only as part of a deeper, values-driven, strategic and trauma-informed approach that supports all learners.
Let’s honour the extraordinary commitment of educators. Let’s equip them with tools, support them with leadership, and acknowledge the complexity of what they face daily. Most importantly, let’s work together to ensure every child is safe, supported, and ready to learn.
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