When children are dysregulated the response from educators is too often punitive. For neurodivergent students in particular, the cost of these responses is high: shame, trauma, social exclusion, and a deep erosion of trust. But it doesn’t have to be this way.
Restorative justice offers a path forward. Not as a one-time circle or a discipline buzzword, but as a framework for reimagining the purpose of school: not to control students, but to build communities of learning and care.
Schools are normalising harm
In too many schools, students with support needs are left without adequate staffing, clarity, or relational consistency. When a child becomes dysregulated, it is framed as a failure of character or parenting, rather than an unmet need. We have seen schools describe a child’s “baseline” as constant dysregulation, rather than asking what supports might help that child regulate.
This normalisation of distress is not trauma-informed. It is institutional neglect.
Worse still, schools often rely on behaviourist frameworks that ignore the root causes of distress. Support staff roles are unclear, communication is vague, and parents are treated as adversaries rather than partners. Collective punishment, isolation, and escalating demands are used in place of accommodations, while the children most affected are silenced.
What restorative justice requires
Restorative justice is not a substitute for support. It depends on it. To implement restorative practice in a meaningful way, districts must invest in:
- Adequate staffing: consistent support personnel who can build trust and co-regulate with students
- Ongoing training: not one-off workshops, but embedded professional learning in neurodiversity, trauma, and disability justice
- Relational consistency: trusting relationships are not extras—they are the foundation of regulation, learning, and inclusion
- Equity-aware curriculum: classroom communities must engage in real discussions about difference, access, and fairness, including the right to leave spaces that are overwhelming
What restorative justice looks like
In a truly restorative school, a child who lashes out is not isolated. When they are ready, they are invited into dialogue. Their peers are given language and tools to understand both harm and healing. Educators are supported to respond with compassion, not compliance. The circle includes everyone: not just the one who harmed, but those who were impacted—and those who can offer repair.
Steps can include:
- Pre-meeting reflection: using plain, declarative language to help the child understand what happened, and why their perspective matters
- Support-person facilitated interviews: ensuring communication needs are met and the child feels safe
- Restorative circles: opportunities for all affected to share, witness, and plan for repair
- Follow-up and accountability: not punishment, but commitments to change, accommodations, and healing
Shifting the culture
Behaviour is communication. For children with PDA profiles, who experience demands as threats, autonomy and relationship are non-negotiable. For autistic students who leave the classroom when overwhelmed, that is regulation, not defiance.
We need classrooms that teach peers about equity, not sameness. We need educators who understand how nervous systems work. And we need school leaders who understand that restorative justice begins with listening.
What districts must do
Restorative justice is not free. It cannot succeed without material support. Districts must:
- Prohibit collective punishment and individual humilation
- Record incidents of harm and have a real process for responding to these incidents
- Fund additional support staff
- Train educators in trauma-informed and neurodiversity-affirming practices
- Include families as equal partners
- Ensure accountability mechanisms are transparent and accessible
This is not just best practice. It is a human rights obligation.
When we build schools that honour relationship over control, we don’t just prevent harm. We create conditions where every child can learn, connect, and be fully human.
A note to educators
If you are reading this as a teacher or support staff, please know: this is not a critique of your effort. We know you’re navigating impossible constraints. This blog is written in solidarity—with hope that by shifting our frameworks, we can make schools safer for everyone, including you.
If the system has left you overwhelmed or unsupported, that is not your failure. It’s the system’s. Neurodiversity-affirming practices are not a demand—they are an invitation to build something better.
Let’s build it together.
Other ideas
We know that accountability and care can coexist—but it takes creativity, collaboration, and listening. If you have ideas for how to foster accountability in the classroom without using shame, exclusion, or collective punishment, we’d love to hear from you.
We’ll be collecting examples to share in a follow-up post—highlighting strategies that centre trust, relationship, and equity. Whether you’re a student, parent, educator, or advocate, your insight matters.
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