A child who’s witnessed domestic violence or lived with parental addiction is not just ‘acting out’, their brain is wired for survival, not learning. Yet in many schools, behaviour policies still focus on compliance rather than understanding, even as the number of children experiencing Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) continues to rise. The question is: should we adapt how we manage the challenging behaviours we see?

For those unfamiliar with the term, Adverse Childhood Experiences are events that children find traumatic or highly stressful. They can have a direct and lasting impact on physical and mental health, while also influencing behaviour in profound ways. The ten recognised ACEs fall within three categories: Abuse, Neglect, and Household Challenges.
In classrooms across the country, pupils who have experienced a high number of ACEs often present as defiant, disengaged, or anxious. Without an understanding of the neuroscience behind trauma or awareness of what a child may be facing at home, staff can easily misinterpret protective behaviour as defiance, leading to sanctions and escalation instead of understanding.
We all entered education to help children fulfil their potential, to be that trusted adult who makes a difference. Imagine, for a moment, a staff briefing where you show a silhouette of a ‘problematic’ child with a list of traumatic experiences underneath. When asked, “What would you do to help this child?”, most staff would suggest kind and nurturing approaches. Now imagine revealing that the child in question is the one regularly removed from lessons for being disruptive and defiant. From that moment on, it would be difficult for staff to see that pupil the same way again.
This is the message I’d like every educator to consider: what might that child be dealing with?
It doesn’t excuse poor behaviour, nor does it mean we accept it, but it may change how we guide, correct, and support that child moving forward.
Many schools are rightly investing in behaviour programmes, reward systems and new policies designed to improve conduct and consistency. However, far fewer are embedding trauma-informed training across their staff teams. The result is that strategies often focus on the management of behaviour, rather than the understanding of it. When we overlook the impact of ACEs, we risk applying surface-level fixes to deeply rooted challenges. If we truly want to raise attendance, reduce exclusions, and support mental health, we must recognise that behaviour is communication, often expressing emotional distress that children don’t yet have the words to say.
After all, how would we expect a child to approach an adult and disclose that they regularly witness substance misuse or violence at home? Embedding trauma-informed approaches doesn’t mean lowering expectations; it means equipping staff with the insight and confidence to respond with empathy, consistency and understanding, so every pupil feels safe enough to learn.
If we want to break cycles of exclusion, disengagement and poor mental health, we must move from behaviour management to behaviour understanding. Every member of staff, from classroom teachers to senior leaders, plays a part in creating environments where pupils feel seen, safe and supported. It starts with awareness; sometimes the greatest shift comes simply from sharing a little more about the child sitting in front of us. Training builds on that awareness, helping staff maintain high expectations while guiding pupils toward better choices rather than relying on authoritarian control. Finally, it becomes culture when empathy meets consistency in every classroom.
The next step for schools isn’t another policy or programme, it’s a mindset shift.
Try this: Share one child’s backstory anonymously in a staff meeting. Then reveal that it belongs to the very pupil who is repeatedly removed from lessons.
Watch the change in your colleagues’ faces, then ask the important question: if the system hasn’t helped that child to change their behaviour, what needs to change in the system?