Episode Summary

In this episode, I begin week two of the series by talking honestly about something many veteran educators have noticed: student behavior has changed. I’m not saying kids today are worse, but after 24 years in classrooms, I’ve seen changes in emotional regulation, frustration tolerance, attention, peer conflict, technology use, and the intensity of some behaviors.

I explore some of the forces that may be contributing to those changes, including COVID, technology, social media, trauma, mental health, and changing childhood experiences. I also explain why trauma-informed teaching should never become expectation-free teaching. Understanding why a child is struggling can help us respond more effectively without lowering our belief in what that child is capable of becoming.

I also address the difficult balance between supporting one struggling student and protecting the learning environment for everyone else. Empathy and accountability are not opposites. Relationships and boundaries can coexist. Consequences can teach instead of humiliate, and temporarily removing a student from a classroom can sometimes be part of helping that student successfully return.

Ultimately, I believe teachers cannot solve complex behavior alone. Strong schools need clear systems, behavior support, counselors, administrators, families, and other professionals working together. Teachers are not broken because they sometimes need help. They are human beings doing incredibly complex work, and real support matters.

Show Notes

• How student behavior has changed
• COVID and the disruption of childhood
• Technology, attention, and frustration tolerance
• Why trauma-informed should not mean expectation-free
• Empathy and accountability together
• Protecting the learning environment
• Consequences that teach
• Why teachers need systemic behavior support

Key Takeaways

• Student behavior has changed, but that does not mean kids are worse.
• Trauma can explain behavior without excusing harmful behavior.
• Empathy and accountability belong together.
• One student’s needs cannot erase the needs of everyone else.
• Consequences should teach rather than humiliate.
• Students need both high expectations and high support.
• Teachers should not be expected to solve complex behavior alone.

This is Mr. Funky Teacher with BeAFunkyTeacher.com. I'm coming to you with another Be a Funky Teacher podcast.

Welcome back, everyone.

Today's episode is called Student Behavior Has Changed.

We're beginning week two of this series, and this week we're going to start looking at some of the changing realities surrounding the teaching profession.

And today, we're going somewhere that I think almost every educator has an opinion about:

Student behavior.

I've been teaching for 24 years, and I want to say something that I think many veteran teachers have probably said privately to one another.

Student behavior has changed.

Now, I want to be really careful about what I mean by that.

I'm not saying kids today are terrible.

I don't believe that.

I'm not saying every student behaves worse than students did 24 years ago.

That's obviously not true either.

And I'm definitely not interested in becoming the veteran teacher who says:

"Back in my day, kids respected adults and everything was wonderful."

Come on.

Kids have always tested boundaries.

Kids have always made mistakes.

Kids have always argued.

Kids have always struggled.

Kids have always had difficult days.

That's part of working with young people.

But after 24 years in classrooms, I do believe some things have changed.

I see students struggling more with emotional regulation.

I see frustration happening faster.

I see some students having a harder time bouncing back when something doesn't go their way.

I see more difficulty accepting the word no.

Sometimes no becomes the beginning of a negotiation, an argument, or an escalation.

I see attention spans changing.

I see technology influencing how children interact with the world.

I see more peer conflict and mental health challenges.

And yes, I see serious behaviors that can make it incredibly difficult for teachers to teach and other students to learn.

But here's where today's conversation becomes important.

I don't think we can simply say:

"Kids behave worse now."

And stop there.

That's not good enough.

If behavior has changed, we should ask why.

What changed in childhood?

What changed in families?

In technology?

In society?

What changed in schools?

What changed since COVID?

And then we need to ask another question.

How do we respond?

Because I believe two things can be true at the exact same time.

A child can be struggling, and a teacher can still need support.

A child's behavior can communicate a need, and that behavior can still be unacceptable.

A student can have trauma that they have experienced in their life, and we can still believe that children are capable of learning healthier ways to respond.

Empathy and accountability aren't enemies.

Actually, I think our students need both.

And that's where I want today's conversation to go.

Before we get into it, let's ground ourselves in gratitude.

Here are three things that I'm thankful for.

The first thing that I'm thankful for is fresh starts with students.

One of the beautiful things about teaching is that tomorrow gives us another opportunity.

A student can have a terrible day today.

A teacher can have a difficult day today.

Sometimes things go completely sideways.

And tomorrow morning, we get another chance.

I'm thankful for the opportunity to tell a young person:

"Hey, yesterday happened. Let's learn from it. And today, we're starting fresh again."

The second thing that I'm thankful for is students who learn how to work through frustration.

I love seeing a student struggle with something and then refuse to give up.

Maybe it's a difficult math problem or reading something challenging.

Maybe it's working through a disagreement with another student.

Watching a child develop resilience is powerful because resilience will serve them long after they've forgotten the lesson we're teaching that day.

The third thing that I'm thankful for is adults who see potential underneath difficult behavior.

Some students make it really hard for adults to see what they're capable of.

That's real.

But I've also seen teachers, counselors, paraprofessionals, administrators, coaches, and family members refuse to give up on a young person.

They hold boundaries.

They maintain expectations.

But they also keep communicating the message:

"Hey, I still believe there's something great inside you."

I'm thankful for adults who can hold both of those things at once.

So the topic, once again, is Student Behavior Has Changed.

And I think we need to get beyond two extremes.

One extreme says:

"Kids today are out of control. We just need harsher consequences."

The other extreme sometimes sounds like:

"All behavior is communication, so we simply need to understand it."

I think reality is more complicated.

Yes, behavior communicates something.

Sometimes it's frustration.

Sometimes it's trauma.

Sometimes it's communicating anxiety.

Sometimes it's a skill deficit.

Sometimes it's an unmet need.

Sometimes a kid is testing a boundary.

Kids do that too.

Understanding the reason behind a behavior can help us respond more effectively.

But understanding isn't the same thing as accepting.

I can understand why a student is dysregulated without saying it's okay to destroy a classroom.

I can understand that a student has experienced trauma without arguing for that child's limitations.

I can understand why a student became angry without saying it's acceptable to hit someone.

And I can care deeply about the child while also caring about the 25 other students who deserve a classroom where they can learn.

That's the balance I think we've got to find.

So let's get into this.

Yes, behavior really has changed.

Sometimes veteran teachers hesitate to say this because we don't want to sound like we're criticizing an entire generation.

But I think we need to be honest.

In 24 years, I've seen changes.

Not in every child.

Not in every classroom.

And not in every school.

But overall, I've seen more difficulty with emotional regulation.

I see students becoming frustrated more quickly.

I see some students struggling to bounce back from disappointment.

I see more arguing with adults.

More students who have difficulty accepting no without turning it into a big debate.

I see peer conflicts escalating quickly.

I see behaviors that can consume enormous amounts of instructional time.

Teachers across generations have dealt with behavior.

That's not new.

What's different is the intensity and complexity that many educators describe.

And acknowledging that isn't attacking children.

It's recognizing what teachers are actually experiencing.

Because if the reality of childhood has changed, then the reality of teaching has changed too.

That's huge.

If the reality of childhood has changed, absolutely the reality of teaching will have changed too.

And pretending otherwise doesn't help students or teachers.

COVID shocked the system.

I don't think we can have this conversation without talking about COVID.

For children, COVID wasn't simply a health event.

It disrupted childhood.

Schools closed.

Routines disappeared, vaporized overnight.

Peer interactions changed.

Families experienced enormous stress.

Students spent more time isolated.

Technology became even more central to everyday life.

And depending upon a child's age, some important developmental years happened during an incredibly abnormal period.

We're years removed from the beginning of COVID now.

But that doesn't mean every effect disappeared when schools reopened.

I think we're still trying to understand some of those effects.

Students came back academically different.

Socially different.

And really emotionally different.

Teachers were asked to help put everything back together while simultaneously moving forward with curriculum and expectations.

That's an enormous task.

COVID isn't the explanation for every behavior challenge that we see today.

Absolutely not.

But I do think it shocked the system.

And some of the ripple effects are still moving through our classrooms.

Technology has changed childhood.

Let's talk about technology now.

I love technology.

I've spent an entire podcast series talking about artificial intelligence and how technology can support education.

So I'm certainly not anti-technology.

But we have to be honest about something.

Technology has changed childhood.

Children have access to entertainment almost instantly.

Videos.

Games.

Social media.

Notifications.

Constant stimulation.

And our brains weren't designed yesterday.

We're still human beings.

If a child becomes accustomed to something new happening on a screen every few seconds, then sitting with a difficult problem for 15 minutes can feel very different.

Persistence matters.

Boredom matters too.

Sometimes boredom is where imagination begins.

When kids have unstructured time, they invent things.

They create games.

They negotiate rules.

They get into disagreements and figure out how to solve them.

They build forts.

They draw.

They explore.

They imagine.

But if every empty moment gets filled with a device, we may lose some of those opportunities.

Again, this isn't:

"Phones are evil."

That's really too simplistic.

Technology can be incredible.

But tools shape behavior.

And as adults, we need to become much more intentional about helping children develop healthier relationships with technology rather than pretending it isn't affecting them.

Trauma-informed doesn't mean expectation-free.

I want to dig into that.

That's something I've been really thinking about and exploring for a while now.

I'll say that again.

Trauma-informed doesn't mean expectation-free.

This is such an important one to really dive into.

I've learned a lot over the years about trauma-informed and trauma-sensitive practices.

Understanding what a child has experienced matters.

A student's behavior doesn't happen in a vacuum.

Sometimes there's a story behind that behavior that we don't know.

And knowing that should make us more compassionate.

It should help us respond instead of simply reacting.

But here's where I think we have to be careful.

We cannot use trauma to argue for a child's limitations.

I can't imagine telling a child:

"You've experienced difficult things, so we don't expect as much from you."

I don't think that's compassion.

I think our message should be:

"What happened to you matters.

We're going to support you.

We're going to help you.

And we still believe you're capable of learning, growing, and becoming successful."

Those things belong together.

Trauma can explain behavior.

It doesn't automatically excuse behavior.

A child who's experienced trauma still needs to learn how to exist successfully in a classroom.

They still need to learn how to handle frustration.

They need to learn that they can't hurt other people.

They still need boundaries.

Actually, for some students, clear and predictable boundaries may be especially important.

Empathy without expectations can become enabling.

Expectations without empathy can become punitive.

Great teaching lives somewhere in the middle.

High empathy.

High expectations.

That's where I think we need to be.

One student's needs cannot erase everyone else's needs.

This may be one of the hardest conversations in education.

Every child deserves an education.

They deserve support and dignity, including the student exhibiting challenging behavior.

But so does every other student in that classroom.

Imagine one student becoming so dysregulated that instruction completely stops.

Maybe the student is screaming.

Threatening others.

Throwing things.

Being physically aggressive.

Or repeatedly creating such significant disruption that the teacher simply cannot teach.

At some point, we have to ask:

What about the other students?

They have needs too.

They have a right to learn.

They have a right to feel safe.

They have a right to a classroom environment where their teacher can actually teach them.

And sometimes temporarily removing a student from that environment isn't abandoning the student.

It may actually be the most supportive thing we can do for everyone, including that child.

Maybe that student needs a quieter environment.

Maybe they need another trusted adult.

Maybe they need time and support to regulate before returning.

What doesn't make sense to me is allowing a classroom to remain in chaos for an hour while everybody waits for one student to become regulated.

That's not necessarily helping the student.

It's certainly not helping the rest of the class.

And it's putting the teacher in an incredibly impossible position.

Teachers shouldn't have to choose between supporting one struggling child and protecting the learning environment for everyone else.

That's where systems of support matter.

And interestingly, we're beginning to see some states wrestle with exactly that question.

West Virginia law also provides teachers authority to remove students whose behavior obstructs teaching or learning and establishes procedures around reentry and repeated removals.

I've just been digging into some of these reports and exploring what some states are trying to do around disruptive student behavior.

I don't think legislation alone solves classroom behavior.

Not even close.

And every policy has to be implemented thoughtfully with protections for students and attention to individual circumstances.

But I do think these conversations signal something important.

People are beginning to recognize that teachers need meaningful support when behavior makes teaching and learning impossible.

And maybe that's a conversation more states—and more importantly, more individual schools and school districts—need to be willing to have.

Because understanding behavior matters.

Supporting students matters.

But protecting the learning environment matters too.

Those aren't competing values.

We have to learn how to do all three.

Removing a student isn't the same as giving up on them.

I want to spend a little more time on this because I think we've sometimes created a false choice in education.

Either you're compassionate toward a struggling student or you believe in consequences.

Why can't we believe in both?

Sometimes a student needs to leave the classroom temporarily.

I'm not talking about a kid making one goofy noise.

I'm not talking about a student rolling their eyes.

I'm not talking about sending somebody to the office every time they annoy us.

We can't do that.

Teachers need classroom management skills.

Relationships.

Patience.

Teachers need to know how to redirect.

We need to recognize that kids are going to be kids.

But there are also situations where behavior crosses a line.

A student may become physically aggressive.

Or threaten another person.

A student may become so disruptive that instruction literally cannot continue.

At that point, asking for assistance isn't evidence that a teacher has failed.

Sometimes it's exactly what responsible classroom management requires.

And removing a student doesn't have to mean:

"We don't want you here."

The message can be:

"Hey, we want you here. We care about you. And right now, we need to help you get ready to successfully return."

You see, that's very different.

Maybe the student needs help regulating.

Maybe there needs to be some sort of conversation.

Maybe there needs to be some sort of consequence.

Maybe something happened earlier in the day that needs to be understood.

Or maybe there's a larger conversation around an intervention plan that needs to be developed for that child.

Whatever happens next should help the student become more successful when they return to the classroom.

Because the goal isn't removal.

The goal is successful reentry.

And successful reentry requires support for the student and the teacher.

Consequences should teach, not simply punish.

I think sometimes the word consequence makes people uncomfortable.

But consequences are part of life.

Adults experience consequences.

If I don't pay my electrical bill, eventually something happens.

If I drive recklessly, there may be consequences.

If I treat people poorly, relationships may change.

That's life.

So helping young people understand that actions have consequences isn't cruel.

It's preparation.

The important question is:

What is the consequence trying to accomplish?

Is it simply punishment?

Or is it helping the student learn?

That's where restorative practices can be powerful when they're done well.

If I hurt somebody, how do I repair that harm?

If I destroy something, how do I help make it right?

If I disrupt the learning environment, how do I demonstrate that I'm ready to return successfully?

That's meaningful accountability.

What isn't meaningful accountability is sending a student out after a serious disruption, having a two-minute conversation, and returning them immediately without any meaningful change in the situation.

Teachers sometimes joke about a student leaving the classroom after a major behavior and coming back five minutes later with a sucker.

It's funny because educators recognize the frustration underneath it.

Imagine you're teaching.

A student creates a significant disruption.

You finally get the classroom settled.

You're trying to rebuild the learning environment.

Five minutes later, the student walks back in with a smile, hands in the air.

Nothing appeared to have happened.

And now you're expected to simply continue.

That can make teachers feel unsupported.

And it can send confusing messages to students too.

Consequences don't have to be harsh.

They don't have to humiliate children.

In fact, it shouldn't be about humiliation.

They shouldn't be designed around revenge.

But they really should mean something.

They should teach something.

Because accountability is part of growth.

Respect for teachers is learned outside the classroom too.

There's another piece of the conversation that I don't think schools can solve by themselves.

Children listen to adults.

They hear how parents talk about teachers.

Students hear how politicians talk about teachers.

They hear how people on social media talk about schools.

They hear the jokes.

The criticism.

They hear all the anger.

And I'm not saying teachers should be immune from criticism.

Absolutely not.

If a teacher makes a mistake, let's address it.

If a school makes a poor decision, let's talk about it.

Teachers aren't above accountability.

But there's a difference between accountability and disrespect.

And when children repeatedly hear adults talk about teachers as though educators are incompetent, lazy, untrustworthy, or somehow the enemy, why would we expect children to walk into school believing those same teachers deserve respect?

Adults model culture.

That includes parents, teachers, administrators, community leaders, politicians, everybody.

We can disagree with an educator without teaching children to disrespect educators.

We can advocate for our children without teaching them that every boundary is unfair.

We can question a decision without undermining the person responsible for maintaining the classroom.

And educators have responsibilities here too.

Respect is reciprocal.

Teachers should speak respectfully to students.

We should communicate professionally with families.

We should listen.

We should own our own mistakes.

That's how healthy communities work.

The goal isn't blind obedience to authority.

It's helping young people understand how to interact respectfully with other human beings, even when they disagree.

That's a skill they'll need for the rest of their lives.

We need to teach resilience again and again.

One of the changes I've noticed is that some students seem to struggle more with frustration.

Something doesn't work immediately and they're done.

They don't get the answer they wanted, and emotions escalate.

Someone tells them no, and instead of accepting the boundary, the negotiation begins again.

That's not every student.

But I think resilience deserves much more attention.

And resilience isn't something we teach in one lesson.

It's built through experience.

A student struggles with something.

They don't immediately succeed.

We support them.

They try again.

Maybe they fail again.

They adjust.

They keep going.

And eventually they discover:

"Hey, I can do hard things."

That's incredibly powerful.

But if adults constantly remove every obstacle from children's lives, they don't get enough opportunities to develop that muscle.

Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is say to a student:

"I know this is hard, and I know you can do it."

Not:

"This is hard, so you don't have to."

Those are completely different messages.

That's also why I don't want trauma-informed education to become limitation-informed education.

A child's past may help us understand why something is difficult.

It should never convince us that growth is impossible.

We support.

We scaffold.

We adjust.

We teach regulation strategies.

We focus on building relationships.

But underneath all of that should be a powerful message:

"I believe you're capable."

That's what high expectations with high support looks like.

Teachers cannot solve complex behavior alone.

This may be the most important idea of today's episode.

We can give teachers every classroom management strategy imaginable.

Build relationships.

Establish routines.

Teach systems.

Teach expectations.

Use restorative conversations.

Provide choices.

Use regulation strategies.

Reinforce positive behavior.

And teachers should do those things.

I do those things.

I believe in those things.

But there are behaviors that require more than one classroom teacher.

That's reality.

Some students need counselors.

Some students need behavior specialists.

Or special education support.

Or administrators.

Some need mental health professionals.

Some need intensive family-school collaboration.

And sometimes a teacher simply needs another adult to come help.

That shouldn't be controversial.

If one student is so dysregulated that a teacher cannot simultaneously support that student and teach the rest of the class, the answer cannot always be:

"Figure it out."

That's not a system of support.

That's isolation.

And isolation is one of the things that drives good teachers away.

Remember what this entire series is about.

Teachers are not broken.

Sometimes they're being asked to solve problems that were never meant to be solved by one person standing alone in a classroom.

That's why behavior support has to be systemic.

Teachers need clear procedures.

Students need predictable expectations.

Families need communication.

Administrators need to follow through.

Counselors and support staff need resources.

And everybody needs to understand their role.

Because the teacher cannot simultaneously teach a whole classroom of students, de-escalate a crisis, provide individual counseling, contact families, document everything, protect student safety, and keep instruction moving as though nothing happened.

Human beings have limits.

Acknowledging those limits isn't weakness.

It's reality.

And building systems around those realities is what strong schools do.

Well, as I do a reflective close here, student behavior has changed.

I believe that.

And after 24 years in education, I've seen it.

Attention has changed.

Technology has changed childhood.

Emotional regulation has become more complicated for some students.

Mental health needs have increased.

COVID disrupted development.

Social media changed how young people interact.

Families are navigating challenges that didn't exist in the same way 24 years ago.

And schools are trying to respond to all of it.

But I don't want today's episode to end with:

"Kids are worse now."

Because I don't believe that.

Kids are still kids.

They still want to belong.

They still want adults to notice them.

They still want boundaries, even when they pretend they don't.

They still want to know that they're capable.

They still want someone to believe in them.

And underneath some incredibly difficult behaviors, there's still a young person.

But compassion for that young person cannot require us to abandon everyone else.

That's the balance.

We can understand trauma without arguing for limitations.

We can understand dysregulation without accepting aggression.

We can understand why a child is struggling without allowing the entire classroom to remain in chaos.

We can have relationships and boundaries.

Empathy and accountability.

Grace and consequences.

High expectations and high support.

Those things aren't opposites.

Our students need all of them.

And teachers need something too.

Support.

Real support.

Not:

"Here's another classroom management article."

Not:

"Have you tried building relationships?"

Not:

"Figure it out."

Teachers need to know that when a situation becomes bigger than what one person can reasonably handle, someone has their back.

That's what strong schools do.

And I think the conversation we're beginning to see in states like Texas and West Virginia tells us something.

The public conversation is beginning to recognize that serious classroom disruption affects more than one student.

It affects teachers.

It affects classmates.

It affects learning.

Legislation isn't going to solve this by itself.

But acknowledging the problem is a start.

And I hope we keep moving toward solutions that protect everyone's dignity.

The student who's struggling.

The students trying to learn.

And the teacher trying to serve all of them.

So here's my challenge today.

The next time a student demonstrates difficult behavior, ask two questions.

First:

What might this behavior be communicating?

And then ask:

What does this student still need to learn?

Because understanding the first question helps us respond with empathy.

And answering the second question helps keep us from lowering expectations.

That's how we help kids grow.

And that's how we support teachers in doing the incredibly complex work they've been asked to do.

Tomorrow, we're going to continue looking at the changing realities of teaching by tackling something deeply connected to today's conversation:

The student mental health crisis.

Because behavior doesn't happen in isolation.

And if we're going to understand what's happening in our classrooms, we need to understand what many of our young people are carrying into them.

So if you found value in this episode, head over to Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen to your podcasts and hit me up with a five-star review.

Let me know what you think.

It helps more teachers find this space.

And as you go into your day, I want you to remember to inspire greatness in young people.

And don't forget to be a funky teacher.

Bye now.