Letter of the Day | When behaviour is communication – Understanding neurodiversity in the classroom

THE EDITOR, Madam:

I am writing both as an educator working with children and as someone with lived experience of long-term sensory and neurodevelopmental differences. My purpose is to encourage teachers to reconsider how certain classroom behaviours are interpreted, especially in relation to neurodivergent children whose ways of engaging with materials and learning may differ from what is traditionally expected.

From early childhood, I engaged with objects in ways that were highly tactile, imaginative, and repetitive. I would take simple classroom-like materials such as paper and cardboard and reshape them continuously – folding, pressing, stacking, and holding them for extended periods. These actions were not aimless. They were deeply connected to internal regulation and imagination.

Inspired by worlds such as Digimon Digital Monsters and Pokémon, I would mentally construct characters and creatures, but I did not only visualise them. I embedded them into physical interaction. By holding the edges of paper tightly, I could experience the sensation of ‘holding’ a Pokémon, a digital monster, or even a character within that imagined world.

For a teacher observing from the outside, such behaviour may appear repetitive, distracting, or unrelated to learning. However, internally, it served a clear function: regulation. The tactile engagement – the pressure of fingers on paper, the resistance of folding, the sensory feedback of materials – created a structured and predictable environment that helped stabilise attention and emotional state.

As I developed further, I became aware of a contrast between my interaction with objects and that of many neurotypical peers. In classroom settings, many children appear to engage with objects in a more structured and preservational way – using them as intended, keeping them intact, and limiting physical alteration. In contrast, my engagement was more sensory-driven and physically interactive. I would squeeze pencils, fold paper repeatedly, manipulate classroom materials, or hold objects tightly for extended periods. At times, this intensity of interaction led to wear or breakage. 

From an external classroom perspective, such behaviour may be misinterpreted as carelessness or lack of discipline. Internally, however, it was a form of self-regulation and focus maintenance.

Importantly, these behaviours were not emotionally detached. I often experienced attachment to the objects I used in this way. When something broke or could no longer be used, I did not feel indifferent – I experienced disappointment or sadness. This reflects an important misunderstanding: what may appear as misuse of materials is often closely tied to emotional grounding and sensory need.

In adulthood, these patterns have not disappeared but have adapted. They now extend to other objects, including modern tools such as phones, which I may hold in sustained, repetitive, or pressure-based ways as a means of maintaining focus and internal stability. The object itself is not the primary focus; rather, it is the sensory feedback it provides that supports regulation.

In comparison, many neurotypical regulation strategies are less visibly physical and more socially or cognitively oriented – such as verbal communication, interaction with peers, or internal thought processes. Because these methods are more widely shared, they are often seen as ‘normal’ and are rarely questioned. However, sensory-based regulation, such as repetitive object interaction or tactile focus, is often misunderstood in classroom environments, despite serving a similar psychological function.

This misunderstanding has direct implications for education. A child who repeatedly folds a piece of paper, grips objects tightly, or engages in sensory-focused interaction may be corrected or redirected without recognition of the regulatory purpose behind the behaviour. In doing so, educators may unintentionally remove a coping mechanism that is helping the child remain attentive, calm, or emotionally balanced.

This is why interpretation matters as much as instruction. The question in a classroom should not always be “How do we stop this behaviour?” but rather “What is this behaviour supporting for the child?” That shift allows for more inclusive and effective teaching practices, particularly for neurodivergent learners.

Neurodiversity is a range of lived experiences that influence how children perceive, process, and respond to their environment. Behaviours that appear repetitive or unconventional may actually be essential tools for learning and regulation. Recognising this does not require lowering expectations – it requires broadening understanding.

My hope is that educators continue to develop awareness of these differences in practical, everyday classroom settings, so that children who regulate differently are supported rather than misunderstood.

RAYMOND LAWRENCE

Neurodivergent Educator