In a world overflowing with unsolicited advice, miracle cures, and one-size-fits-all parenting strategies, raising a neurodivergent child can feel like standing in a storm of opinions while holding a paper umbrella.
What our kids need most is adults willing to build a bridge of support for skill development.
Neurodivergent kids do not need fixing. They need support.
Not the kind of support that tries to mold them into someone else’s definition of “normal.” Not the kind that treats their differences as deficits. But the type that sees their full humanity and nurtures their unique strengths.
Whether your child or student is autistic, ADHD, or any of the many forms of neurodivergence, the presence of the following can be transformative:
Emotional Regulation & Co-Regulation
Like all children, neurodivergent kids benefit from adults who model how to move through big feelings without shame.
Co-regulation means:
- We don’t expect kids to calm down alone.
- We stay close.
- We breathe with them.
- We offer grounding strategies and give their nervous systems a soft landing place.
Instead of saying, “You’re fine,” try:
“I’m here. I see you’re having a big feeling. Let’s sit together for a minute.”
Or: “Would you like a hug?”
Did you know?
A 60-second hug is one of the most emotionally and physically regulating actions.
Once I learned this, I better understood why my young son would hug with such intensity. He needed deep input and was co-regulating with me. The longer the hug, the slower his breath became and the more relaxed his body.
Other times, he couldn’t process physical touch and would react explosively to an accidental bump. John’s brain and body were already overstimulated, so even the slightest touch caused an explosive reaction.
In those moments, I would sit with or hold him to prevent accidental harm. Sometimes, we sat for minutes; other times, for hours. It took patience and understanding.
In the most overwhelming moments, he would lose the ability to communicate with words. His brain would go into fight or flight. The frontal lobe shuts down. Language disappeared.
When your 6-year-old looks at you with terror in their eyes—like an animal being hunted—you know they are not doing this on purpose.
Safe, Predictable Environments
Kids thrive in safe spaces—physically, emotionally, and sensorily.
For a neurodivergent child, this might mean:
- A quiet corner to decompress.
- Noise-canceling headphones.
- A visual schedule to reduce the stress of the unknown.
Predictability doesn’t mean rigidity. It means reliability.
Kids need to know what to expect—and that their needs will be met consistently.
Visual schedules are not just for the classroom.
Having a schedule at home can make a huge difference.
As the primary caregiver, we are the command center for our family’s schedules. We know who needs to be where, when, and what equipment or supplies are required. We know everyone’s hunger, sleep cycles, and the day’s most joyful or challenging part. Yet we often carry all this information without always sharing it with those affected by daily hustle and bustle shifts.
Your child may do best with a daily schedule or perhaps just knowing their weekly activities. If your child shares time between households or caregivers have unpredictable schedules, a monthly calendar may be best. We combined all of these.
During our most significant struggles, we had a visual schedule for everything, so John always knew what to expect.
As adults, we often forget that the children we care for don’t have decades of experience navigating daily activities. Anxiety increases are directly connected to heightened sensory sensitivities. It only takes a slight discomfort (a clothing tag, an unexpected schedule change, or an emotional challenge) to cause a child trying to hold it together to fall apart.
Creating a visual schedule is just one more task on your to-do list, but it works. It’s one more bridge that helps children develop self-regulation and a sense of control.
Connection First, Always
When behavior is challenging, the child isn’t giving us a hard time.
They are having a hard time.
As Dr. Ross Greene says, “Kids do well if they can.”
Challenging behavior is often a sign of lagging skills—not willful misbehavior.
They need a bridge from where they are to where we ask them to go.
Before we teach, redirect, or correct, we need to connect.
We soften.
We listen.
Connection is the foundation of all learning, trust, and growth.
But here’s the truth: offering that bridge isn’t always easy.
As teachers, parents, and school leaders, we must approach behavior by asking, “What does this child need?”
When a child struggles, our first instinct should be to:
- Protect, not punish.
- Support, not shame.
Challenging behavior is often a signal:
“I need help, and I don’t have the words.”
But let’s be honest—showing up with gentleness, patience, and care can feel impossible when we are overwhelmed, exhausted, or unsure of what to do.
That’s why supporting neurodivergent children also means supporting the adults who care for them.
We must normalize emotion, model co-regulation, and make room for rest, reflection, and learning for ourselves, too.
This is why many parents say things like:
- “John has taught me so much.”
- “I’ve learned more being his mom than I ever expected.”
Parenting differently is a journey of deep reflection and courage.
It’s often uncharted territory—and those around us aren’t always supportive of methods that look “soft.”
I remember saying to someone who insisted I parent with more discipline:
“I can beat him, but it won’t change the fact that he can’t handle the situation.”
Our children don’t need harsher consequences. They need stronger bridges.
Bridges built from compassion, understanding, and care.
Validation Over Correction
Neurodivergent kids often hear:
- “You’re too sensitive.”
- “You’re overreacting.”
- “What’s wrong with you?”
- “That’s not appropriate.”
This isn’t helpful for kids struggling to meet social expectations or communicate their needs.
We often expect young children—barely a decade old—to have more emotional and social skills than most adults.
Instead, we can:
- Acknowledge their experiences.
- Support them in developing new skills over time.
- Offer patience and perspective.
As adults, we can leave overwhelming situations.
We can use words to express discomfort.
We know how to meet basic needs like food, water, and rest.
Children are still learning.
Celebration of Their Unique Strengths
Every child has something that lights them up:
- Trains, animals, maps, or weather.
- Music, painting, storytelling, or imaginative play.
Special interests are not obsessions.
They are a child’s way of understanding, organizing, and connecting with the world around them.
A child who memorizes metro maps or knows every bus route shouldn’t be ridiculed—that’s an amazing brain at work!
Our role as adults is to:
- Celebrate their passions.
- Help build bridges from special interests to skill-building opportunities.
- Create environments where their differences flourish—with dignity, respect, and love.
When we honor their strengths, we build the confidence and trust they need to develop the skills they struggle with.
Conclusion
Neurodivergent kids don’t need to be fixed.
They need adults who are willing to:
- See their full humanity.
- Create safe, predictable environments.
- Offer co-regulation and validation.
- Support skill development through connection and understanding.
Most of all, they need strong bridges built with compassion, care, and patience to thrive as exactly who they are.Email AddressFirst Name
Kate Powers is a Boston-based educator, author, artist, and mom raising two AuDHD children while teaching in an inclusive kindergarten classroom. With a Master of Education and post-grad training in special education, Kate blends lived experience with professional expertise to advocate for neurodivergent kids and their families.
She’s self-published two books for women on emotional wellness and is currently developing a children’s book series focused on social-emotional learning. After completing five marathons, seven triathlons, and a 100-mile Best Buddies ride as a plus-size athlete, Kate turned to watercolor painting for healing after shoulder surgery—sparking an art business grounded in joy and resilience.
Her work centers on creativity, advocacy, and compassionate truth-telling. Whether through blog posts, books, or brushstrokes, she helps families feel seen and supported.
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