You know all the strategies. You’ve made the charts, the plans, everything you can think of to address those behaviours. But it’s not working long term, is it?

Here’s what I’ve learned: behaviour support isn’t just about children, it’s about you, too.

We’ve spoken about the hidden classroom, the nervous system that sets the tone for everything. But what happens when the classroom feels like it’s been overrun by weeds? When the calm you’ve built gets tangled up in stress, in chaos, in the endless noise?

Because here’s what I know for sure: you can’t pour from an empty cup. You can’t calm chaos if you’re swept up in it yourself. And you definitely can’t offer a child regulation if you’re stuck in dysregulation, too.

Checking In With Yourself First
Before you even greet the children, take a breath and check in with yourself. How’s your body feeling? Are you already carrying the weight of yesterday or the worry about tomorrow? Are your shoulders up by your ears? Is your breath stuck up in your chest?

This isn’t some fancy strategy, it’s the first step. Because how you feel in your own body shapes everything you’re about to offer a child. If you’re already bracing for the day, you’re not going to have the space to meet them with the calm they need.

For me, this check-in has become my quiet ritual. It’s how I remind myself, “I’m here, too.” Before I ask a child to settle, I have to know if I’ve settled first.

Spotting When You’re Dysregulated
Let’s be honest: none of us are regulated all the time. There are days when it feels like everything is too loud, too much, too close. That’s human. But the key is to notice it, because your body will always tell the truth, even if your head is trying to hold it all together.

For me, it's how the world feels to me, it's louder, brighter, too much. That’s when I know I’m not guiding from calm, I’m just trying to survive the moment.

And here’s the real truth: behaviour support doesn’t start with a strategy. It starts with noticing. With being honest enough to admit when you’re not regulated, so you can do something about it.

Co-Regulating Without Carrying It All
This was a hard lesson for me to learn. I used to think that co-regulation meant taking it all on, feeling every meltdown, carrying every tear. But that’s not what co-regulation really is.

Co-regulation is about lending a child your calm, not getting lost in their storm. It’s the balance between being there for them and not losing yourself in the process.

I’ve learned to let children borrow my regulation without letting their feelings take over my whole system. To stand in the calm, to offer it, but not to drown in it.

Recharging After the Hard Days
Let’s not pretend this work doesn’t weigh on us. There are days when no matter how calm you try to be, you end up carrying the weight home with you. The meltdown that lasted all morning. The child who couldn’t find their calm no matter how hard you tried to lend yours.

Those days need tending, too. Because you can’t keep showing up if you’re never recharging. You can’t keep lending out calm if you’re never filling your own well.

For me, it’s the small things. Pausing in the car. A deep inhale and a long exhale. Time with people who remind me that I’m more than the work. Because the work will always be there. But your nervous system? It needs care, too.

A Personal Reflection
I used to think behaviour support was about the perfect script. The right words to say in the moment. The plan that would fix it all.

But what I know now is this: it’s really about pausing. Breathing. Coming back to centre, again and again.

One of the most powerful lessons for me has been this: the calmer I am, the easier it is for a child to find their own calm. And the more honest I am about my own dysregulation, the more I can offer them real safety.

One of the biggest moments of realisation for me was seeing how much impact I could have on a dysregulated child, not with my words, but with my presence. To watch a child melt into your regulation. To see them borrow the calm they need to move through the storm. That’s the hidden classroom. It’s not about perfect words or perfect charts. It’s about the safety you can offer with your breath, your body, and your willingness to be there, steady and real.

This realisation changed the way I turn up for children, knowing that the power of my nervous system is more powerful than any words I can say.

A Quiet Invitation
So here’s what I’d offer you: notice what’s happening inside you before you jump to fix what’s happening outside. Notice the stories you’re carrying in your shoulders. The breath you’re holding tight. The way your body’s telling the truth, even if your mind’s still trying to catch up.

Pause. Breathe. Let yourself be human before you ask a child to be calm. Because that’s what children need most: adults who can say, “I’m here. I’m breathing. And I can hold this with you.”

Try This
The next time you feel your own chaos rising, pause and ask:

• Am I speaking from my calm or my chaos?

• Am I showing the child a path forward or just reacting to the moment?

• What’s one small way I can come back to myself first?

This work is messy. It’s human. And it’s worth it. Because behaviour support isn’t just about the child, it’s about how we care for ourselves so we can keep showing up, real and steady.

Language. Presence. Breath. They’re not just tools for the children, they’re the lifelines for you, too.

May your stories hold your power.

Jason