Written by Craig Wotherspoon, Head of Wellbeing and Engagement, The David Scott School
There is a phrase often heard in schools: “They’re not ready to learn.” It is usually said with compassion, sometimes with frustration, and often in response to behaviours that interrupt the expected rhythm of teaching: refusal, shutdown, conflict, withdrawal, avoidance, impulsivity, or emotional escalation. Yet from a trauma-informed and learning-science perspective, the phrase deserves a careful reframe. Students are always learning. The question is: what are they learning from the environment around them? Are they learning that school is predictable, safe, relational and possible? Or are they learning that school is another place where threat, shame, failure or exclusion might occur?
One of the central arguments of trauma-informed education is not that wellbeing should replace learning, it is that wellbeing is one of the conditions through which learning becomes possible. Cognitive science, developmental neuroscience and educational research increasingly point to the same conclusion: attention, memory, self-regulation, belonging and relationships are not peripheral to achievement. They are part of the architecture of learning.
Harvard’s Centre on the Developing Child describes toxic stress as excessive or prolonged activation of the stress response system, which can disrupt brain architecture and biological systems. It also emphasises that safe, stable developmental environments and responsive relationships with caring adults can buffer the effects of stress. This matters deeply in classrooms. A young person who appears oppositional may in fact be mobilised for protection. A student who “doesn’t care” may be managing shame, cognitive overload or threat sensitivity. A student who walks out may be demonstrating an attempt at regulation before they have the language or trust to ask for help.
This does not mean educators become therapists. It means educators become more precise interpreters of behaviour and more deliberate designers of learning environments. Trauma-informed practice asks educators to shift from “What is wrong with this student?” to “What is happening for this student, and what conditions will help them re-engage?” That shift is not sentimental. It is practical.
The research base for trauma-informed schooling is still developing, and it is important not to overclaim. A 2024 systematic review of trauma-informed programs in Australian schools found only a small number of peer-reviewed studies between 2014 and 2022, indicating that the field is promising but still emerging. This is a useful caution. Trauma-informed practice should not become a slogan, a poster, or a justification for inconsistent expectations. It should be implemented with clear routines, staff training, shared language, reflective practice, and local evaluation.
One helpful anchor is SAMHSA’s (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration) six trauma-informed principles: safety; trustworthiness and transparency; peer support; collaboration and mutuality; empowerment, voice and choice; and attention to cultural, historical and gender issues. In schools, these principles translate into ordinary but powerful practices: greeting students by name, predictable routines, calm correction, clear learning intentions, co-regulation before problem-solving, repair after rupture, and choices that preserve dignity without abandoning boundaries.
The bridge between wellbeing and learning becomes especially clear when we consider executive function. Executive function and self-regulation skills help people plan, focus attention, switch tasks, manage information and make decisions. Harvard describes these skills as an “air traffic control system” for the brain. In classroom terms, these are the very capacities students need to begin work, persist through difficulty, manage peer dynamics, remember instructions, tolerate correction and complete tasks. When trauma, adversity or chronic stress interfere with these capacities, the educational response cannot be limited to “try harder”. The response must include scaffolding.
This is where trauma-informed education and evidence-based teaching strongly align. The Australian Education Research Organisation (AERO) notes that explicit instruction breaks learning into smaller outcomes, models each step, and helps students process new information more effectively. AERO also describes explicit instruction as systematic, engaging and success-oriented, involving clear explanation, demonstration, sequencing, small chunks of new information, and guidance until students are ready for independence. For trauma-affected learners, this is not merely good pedagogy; it is also nervous-system-informed pedagogy. Clarity reduces uncertainty. Modelling reduces shame. Chunking reduces overload. Guided practice increases the likelihood of success.
In this sense, “trauma-informed” does not mean lowering the bar. It means building the ramp. High expectations remain essential, but expectations must be made reachable through structure, relational safety and repeated opportunities for success. A dysregulated student is not helped by vague encouragement. They are helped by a predictable adult, a visible sequence, a manageable first step, and a pathway back after things go wrong.
Social and emotional learning also provides part of the evidence bridge. The Education Endowment Foundation reports that (Social and Emotional Learning) SEL approaches have a positive impact, on average, of three months’ additional academic progress over a year, while also improving attitudes to learning and social relationships. The well-known Durlak et al. meta-analysis examined 213 universal school-based SEL programs involving more than 270,000 students and found improvements in social-emotional skills, behaviour and academic performance. Importantly, the (Effective Early Learning) EEF cautions that SEL is more likely to improve attainment when embedded into routine educational practice and supported by professional development, rather than treated as a disconnected program.
That finding is crucial. The most effective wellbeing work in schools is often not the dramatic intervention. It is the repeated, consistent, adult practice that shapes the climate of the room. A calm entry routine. A predictable “do now” task. A teacher who narrates the next step before anxiety rises. A wellbeing practitioner who supports the student to return to class rather than drift away from learning. A restorative conversation that repairs connection while maintaining accountability. A modified timetable used therapeutically, with a plan for re-engagement, rather than as disguised exclusion.
Australian education guidance is increasingly reflecting this integration. AERO’s 2025 report on evidence-based practices in school settings for student wellbeing aims to support schools to choose strategies and interventions that improve wellbeing linked to learning, and it incorporates First Nations perspectives including connections to land, culture and kinship. Victoria’s High Impact Wellbeing Strategies similarly position wellbeing practices as classroom-usable, whole-school, Tier 1 approaches that can support teachers, education support staff, wellbeing teams and school leaders to develop shared language and consistent practice.
AERO’s model of learning and teaching also explicitly includes safety and belonging, self-regulation, respectful interactions, rules and routines, cultural safety and family engagement as enabling conditions for learning. This is the heart of the bridge: wellbeing is not something that happens before “real learning” begins. It is woven through the way students attend, encode, retrieve, practise, relate and persist.
For educators, the practical challenge is to make this bridge visible. Trauma-informed practice can be expressed in five everyday commitments.
First, build predictability. Students with complex histories often scan for threat. Clear routines, visible agendas, consistent transitions and calm adult responses reduce unnecessary cognitive and emotional load.
Second, teach regulation as a learning behaviour. Regulation is not simply “calming down”; it is the capacity to access the learning brain. Short pauses, breathing, movement, sensory tools, co-regulation and emotionally literate language can help students return to the task.
Third, use explicit instruction and scaffolded success. Break tasks down. Model the thinking. Check for understanding. Give guided practice. Celebrate the first productive step, not only the final product.
Fourth, preserve dignity during correction. Shame is a poor teaching tool. Correct privately where possible, use neutral language, offer a path back, and separate the behaviour from the student’s identity.
Finally, repair after rupture. In trauma-informed schools, relationships are not assumed to be permanently damaged by conflict. Repair teaches students that accountability and belonging can coexist.
The future of education will require more than curriculum coverage. It will require educators who understand that the mind that learns is attached to a body that feels, a nervous system that protects, and a social world that shapes meaning. Bridging wellbeing and learning is therefore not an optional extra. It is the work of helping students experience school as a place where they can be safe enough to think, connected enough to try, and supported enough to grow.
Craig Wotherspoon will be speaking in the Melbourne Wellbeing for Future Focused Schools Conference on the topic of ‘Bridging Wellbeing and Learning: Trauma-Informed, Research-Based Strategies for Educators’