by Rebecca Thomas
We know how long it takes us to ‘get back into it’ after a long break, yet we often expect our students to be ready and eager to learn despite facing new teachers, new faces, new routines, and sometimes even new schools.
For our neurodivergent students, this transition is even more challenging.
Some students have spent five years at home, and this is their very first day of school. Their daily lives at home may have looked very different from our own experiences.
During the holidays, we all find ways to self-soothe—whether that’s eating chocolate, drinking wine, running, downing ten cups of coffee, reading a book, or swimming. We gravitate towards these activities not just out of habit but because they help regulate our brains. One key player in this regulation is dopamine, a neurotransmitter that supports focus, motivation, and executive function.
For our students, their dopamine fix might have come from social media, gaming, movies, takeaway food, or playing at the park. These activities provide a sense of control, routine, and comfort. When they return to school, they may experience dopamine withdrawal, much like how we crave chocolate or movement to help regulate ourselves.
Now picture these students suddenly stepping into a classroom full of unfamiliar people—some they may not yet trust, some who don’t allow them access to their usual self-soothing mechanisms, some who might not even remember their names. Is it any wonder that some students struggle to settle in or exhibit challenging behaviour?
For our intermediate students, the shift is just as intense. Their entire social identity and landscape have changed, layered with the complexities of adolescence and all its unpredictability. The start of term might not feel exciting to them—it might feel overwhelming.
At the same time, teachers are under immense pressure. There are structured literacy and maths programs to begin, textbooks to distribute, tray labels to laminate, classroom rules and school values to introduce. There’s a schedule to keep, and expectations to meet. When things don’t go to plan, frustration creeps in. The students sense it. And when we’re hoha, they become hoha too.
Without meaning to, the relationship-building we know is so crucial at the start of the year becomes littered with curt instructions, impatient sighs, and strained commands.
And the children notice.
When Are Togs No Longer Acceptable? Understanding Social Shifts
Imagine wearing your swimwear (togs) straight from the beach into a café, then to the supermarket, then to a meeting. At what point does it become socially unacceptable?
How far do you have to be from the beach before people start questioning your choice?
For many students, the transition back to school feels the same.
The comfortable, self-regulating world they’ve lived in over the break is suddenly ‘inappropriate’ or ‘not allowed’—and they aren’t always sure where the line is. The gaming, the movement, the food choices, the routines that helped them function are now seen as distractions or disruptions.
Some students will adjust quickly. Others will struggle, not because they don’t want to participate, but because the shift feels jarring and they aren’t sure what is expected of them anymore.
So, what can we do to ensure that our interactions are positive, no matter how chaotic the first few weeks of school feel?
How do we slow down and prioritise connection over compliance?
How do we ensure our thoughts and words about students are not deficit-based?
How do we create an environment where our neurodivergent and trauma-affected students feel safe and at ease?
Practical Ideas for a Positive Transition:
Introduce a class pet – This can help students with routines, responsibility, and timetabling while also creating a calming presence in the room.
Invent an imaginary student – A fictional classmate who gets things wrong or struggles can provide a safe way to develop empathy and problem-solving skills.
Encourage sharing through special interests – Instead of asking “Tell me about you,” which can overwhelm neurodivergent students, ask “What’s your special interest?” This allows them to share comfortably without fear of over-disclosure.
Top up dopamine while routines are taking place – Incorporate movement, sensory breaks, or small dopamine-friendly activities like music or fidget tools to help students regulate.
Build trust through communication – Teachers should actively listen to parents, as they know their children best. More communication can lead to a better understanding of how to support each student.
Create code words for support – Some students struggle to express when they need help. Establishing a code word or signal system can allow them to seek support discreetly.
Check sensory triggers – Light, strong perfumes, and loud noises can be overwhelming. Consider small adjustments that help students feel more comfortable.
Provide structured choices – Instead of open-ended demands, offer three choices: A, B, or “see me.” This gives students a sense of control while maintaining classroom expectations.
Recognise the importance of feeling safe – Safety in education isn’t just about physical safety; students are only truly safe if they feel safe. If they have tried to be authentically themselves and were shut down, trust is broken. Validate them—it takes time to rebuild.
Acknowledge the challenges of intermediate years – Friendships become central, and social dynamics shift rapidly. Being mindful of these changes can help educators provide the right support.
Slow down.
Take your time.
The way we welcome students, the patience we show, and the sense of safety we create will set the tone for their entire year. Because an eye roll or a moment of frustration might be fleeting for us, but for a child, it’s a memory they carry. And we can’t take it back.
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