PookyH

18/06/2026

𝗥𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗽𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝗿. 𝗜𝘁’𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳𝗳.

Holding it together at school takes everything a child has. The unspoken rules, the noise, the strip lighting, the constant low hum of trying not to get it wrong, all managed quietly, all day. By the time they’re through the front door, the tank is empty.

This is the after school meltdown that catches so many parents off guard. The report says ‘a pleasure to teach, no concerns,´ and your evenings are full of tears and slammed doors. That gap isn’t a sign you’re getting it wrong at home. It’s a measure of how hard your child is working everywhere else.

A few things that help:
𝗣𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲.
No clubs, no homework, no debrief. Let the nervous system come back online before anything is asked of it.

𝗧𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴.
Fine at school and falling apart at home can both be true at once. The fallout you’re mopping up is information about the load they’re carrying in class.

𝗗𝗿𝗼𝗽 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗼𝘄.
Snacks over conversation. Calm over correction.

𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝗶𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆’𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗱𝗮𝘆.

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16/06/2026

Forty odd miles into a day on the tandem, looking like we’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, we spotted a little chalk board saying ‘Bar open’ and very nearly cycled straight past it. I’m so glad we didn’t.

We wheeled past a Rolls Royce in the car park, propped up our rather battered bike made for two and were met by Emma, who greeted us with such enthusiasm you’d have thought we’d arrived in the Rolls. She was wonderfully bubbly about the bubbly, and we sat in the sunshine drinking sparkling wine made from grapes grown right where we were sitting. I had the rosé and it was glorious.

Two things. The loveliest times are so often the unexpected ones, the ones you’d miss if you kept pedalling, so do stop when you see the ‘bar open’ sign. And a genuinely lovely, bubbly human can make anyone feel they belong, whatever they turned up on. Emma didn’t save her warmth for the fancy car. She welcomed us, sweaty and dishevelled and delighted, and made our whole day.

, the wine was delicious and the welcome even better. We hope to happen past you again.

Belonging is never about how you arrive. It’s about who’s there to greet you when you do… right?

16/06/2026

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗼'𝘀 "𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁" 𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗽𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲.

Most of us know about fight, flight and freeze responses. But fawn, the appease response, is the one we miss most often, because it looks like exactly what we want: a compliant, eager to please, well behaved child.

𝗙𝗮𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗱.
The child has learned that the safest strategy is to become whatever the adult in authority needs them to be. If I make you happy, you won't hurt me. If I agree with everything, there will be no conflict. If I'm useful, I'm safe.

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴.
It's surviving at enormous cost: exhaustion, and the slow erosion of who they are. For neurodivergent children, fawn is often closely linked to masking, and it's frequently invisible to the adults who benefit from it.

𝗪𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴.
A fawning child makes our job easier. They don't cause trouble. They do what we ask. But that doesn't mean they're okay.

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽𝘀:
𝗚𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲.
Phrases like "It's okay to say you don't agree" or "I'm interested in what you actually think, not what you think I want to hear."

𝗥𝗲𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲
The disagreement as much as the agreement.

𝗠𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻
So getting things wrong looks survivable.

𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘁
Then keep proving it when they test you.

𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴. A child who never disagrees is not thriving. They're surviving. Our job is to make it safe enough for them to be themselves.

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15/06/2026

𝗔 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱’𝘀 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. 𝗜𝘁’𝘀 𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝘁.

When a child talks at length about the thing they love, it can feel like they’re talking at you rather than to you. But for a lot of neurodivergent children, that subject is where they feel most fluent, most safe, most themselves. It’s the one place the words come easily. So when they bring it to you, they’re usually offering something, not shutting you out.

𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝗻:

𝟭. 𝗔𝘀𝗸 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.
Not to steer them somewhere else, just to show you’re interested. A child who feels met on their own ground will often follow you onto less comfortable ground later.

𝟮. 𝗟𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴.
Maths built around their thing, a writing task that lets them be the expert, a science example pulled from their world. Hard content goes in more easily when it arrives wrapped in something familiar.

𝟯. 𝗞𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀.
When everything else feels like too much, the familiar subject can bring a child back to somewhere they can cope.

The monologue you keep trying to cut short is often a child reaching for you.

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12/06/2026

𝟳 𝗤𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘀: 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗦𝗵𝘂𝘁𝘀 𝗗𝗼𝘄𝗻

Free session next Tuesday for professionals & parents/carers

Book here: https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/7-quick-wins-supporting-the-child-who-shuts-down-tickets-1981854038780

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(Recording & notes sent to everyone who books)

Join us for another practical 7 Quick Wins session. This time we're exploring how to support children who experience shut down.

11/06/2026

𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗲. 𝗔 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴.
Most of the work we do for neurodivergent students is about removing barriers. Adjustments, accommodations, quiet rooms to escape to when it all gets too much.

All of that matters. But it can leave a child feeling tolerated rather than valued. Included on paper. Not wanted in practice.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲.
We want children running towards things, not just away from them. That means building places they actively want to be, not just places they can survive.

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲:
✦ A lunchtime club built around a shared interest, where their people are. Chess, anime, coding, Warhammer. Far more powerful than any social skills group.
✦ A librarian who saves them a book. A teaching assistant who saves them a seat. Small, consistent acts that say you were on my mind.
✦ Adults who use their name with warmth in it. Every day. Even when they don’t reply yet.

𝗧𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝘂𝗱𝗶𝘁.
Pick one neurodivergent student. Where do they go at break? Are they choosing to be there, or hiding? Would they be missed tomorrow if they didn’t come in?

If the honest answers are uncomfortable, that’s useful information. It tells you where to start.

𝗛𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲.
Same child. Same room. Same lunchtime. But one says “you don’t fit out there.” The other says “we’re glad you’re here.”

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11/06/2026

Residentials and sleepovers can carry a lot of worry, for the child and for the adults around them. Will they eat, will they sleep, will they want to come home in the night.

If your autistic child has been on their first residential or sleepover, please share how it went: what happened, what helped, and anything you wish you'd known.

Teachers and TAs, please add your side too, and do share the happy stories as well, the kids who surprised everyone and had a brilliant time.

The more we hear from each other here, the more reassured the next worried parent/carer will feel, so please add your experience below for others to learn from.

09/06/2026

𝗘𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲𝘁𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝘂𝗶𝗹𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁, in how we greet a child, how we react when they tell us something hard, and whether we come back to put things right.

Children who feel emotionally safe can regulate, learn, and trust us with the difficult stuff. Children who don't, go quiet, or loud, or vanish.

Here are five things that make a difference:

𝟭. 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲: Not the same mood every day, but the same fundamental adult. We can't be Miss Honey on Monday and Miss Trunchbull on Tuesday. When a child has to scan our face to work out which version of us they've got, they can't relax into being with us.

𝟮. 𝗨𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗰𝗸𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲: Children fear being judged, so your face needs to stay kind even when the words are hard. Pausing before you react, even a count to five, gives you space for a more considered response.

𝟯. 𝗤𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿: Things will go wrong, and that's okay. The problem is when wrong becomes permanent; a short, sincere "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, I'm sorry" teaches a child more than never messing up ever could.

𝟰. 𝗟𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘂𝗽: Children read your face, body and tone in a split second. A smile that gets there before the words. Stopping mid-task to say a happy hello. It tells them: you're a welcome thing in my day, not a job on my list.

𝟱. 𝗟𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀: When a child tells you something difficult, they're watching to see whether you take it seriously. Believe them. Sit with it. Resist the urge to fix or minimise. "That makes sense, no wonder you've been finding things hard" does more than any solution.

𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲, 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲. Nobody does. The children in your life don't need you perfect. They need to know that even when you fall short, you'll come back. That's emotional safety.

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02/06/2026

𝗔𝗹𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘁𝗵𝘆𝗺𝗶𝗮 𝗶𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝗜𝘁’𝘀 𝗮 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴.

About half of autistic people experience alexithymia, though it shows up across other neurotypes too. The feeling is there, sometimes overwhelmingly so, but the part of the brain that puts words to it can’t quite make the translation.

The trouble is that most people assume naming an emotion is automatic. So when someone can’t, it gets read as shutting down, or being difficult, or refusing to engage. But asking someone with alexithymia « what are you feeling? » is like asking them to name a colour they can see clearly and have no word for.

The body often knows before the mind catches up. That tightness in the chest, the heaviness, the buzzing under the skin: those are the clearest signals available. Once you know that, you can stop hearing a vague answer as resistance and start hearing it as information.

𝗤𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿:
  • « What’s happening in your body right now? »
  • « Is this feeling bigger or smaller than it was earlier? »
  • « If it had a temperature or a texture, what would it be? »

They sidestep the vocabulary gap and head straight for what’s reachable.

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁.

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02/06/2026

𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼 𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆'𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝘆.

The coat on the floor, the voice that's too loud, the feet on the chair, the way they came through the door. By the time you actually need them to listen, they feel like you've spent the whole morning telling them off.

When correction keeps bouncing off the same child, the instinct is to be firmer and clearer. But every correction is a small withdrawal from your relationship with that child, and a child who is corrected all day is usually running an overdraft before you've opened your mouth.

Correcting harder only confirms what they already suspect, that you are one more adult who notices what they get wrong.

𝗔 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁.
Correction from an adult a child trusts is useful information. Correction from an adult they don't trust reads as one more attack and a brain that feels under attack isn't learning, it's defending.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗽.
Connection isn't a programme you haven't got time for. It's tiny, frequent deposits, thirty seconds at a time, several times a day. A few that cost almost nothing:

𝟭. 𝗚𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆'𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹.
Most of the attention a corrected child gets is for getting something wrong. This is attention that isn't.

𝟮. 𝗔𝘀𝗸 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗮𝘆.
It shows them you hold them in mind when they're not in front of you.

𝟯. 𝗚𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱.
Almost every interaction a child has with an adult asks something of them. For a demand-avoidant child especially, a demand-free moment is special.

And do it before you need it. The moment you most need a child to trust you is the worst time to start earning it. You can't open the account in a crisis. The relationship that holds when things fall apart is the one you built on ordinary days.

𝗡𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲.

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