Empathy Is Easiest When Children Are Easy to Understand

One of the hardest parts of parenting children with big behaviors is that the behavior is usually the loudest thing in the room. When a child is screaming, refusing, arguing, shutting down, or melting down, it's difficult to focus on anything else. The behavior immediately demands our attention. We want it to stop, and understandably so. But one of the most important shifts I've made over the years is learning to ask a different question. Instead of asking only, "How do I stop this behavior?" I've learned to ask, "What might be happening underneath it?" That question has changed the way I see children. As adults, we understand that our own behavior is influenced by what's happening inside of us. If we're stressed, overwhelmed, anxious, exhausted, embarrassed, frustrated, or hurt, it affects how we show up. We may become short-tempered, withdrawn, defensive, forgetful, or reactive. Children are no different. The challenge is that children often don't have the self-awareness, emotional vocabulary, or life experience to explain what's happening internally. Instead, those internal experiences tend to show up through behavior. Sometimes a child who appears defiant is actually feeling powerless. Sometimes a child who refuses schoolwork is carrying a tremendous fear of making mistakes. Sometimes a child who lashes out at a sibling has been overwhelmed for hours and simply reached their limit. And sometimes a child who seems completely unmotivated is actually discouraged, disconnected, or shutting down. This doesn't mean every behavior has a hidden meaning that parents need to decode perfectly. It also doesn't mean children aren't responsible for their actions. What it does mean is that behavior rarely tells the entire story by itself. Why This Matters So Much for Homeschool Parents I think homeschool parents face a unique challenge when it comes to behavior because we spend so much time with our children. We're there for the math frustration, the sibling conflict, the difficult transitions, the emotional overwhelm, the resistance to writing, the tears, the arguments, and the meltdowns. We often see every hard moment, and when those moments happen day after day, it's easy to become hyper-focused on the behavior itself. Sometimes parents start feeling like behavior is all they see. The arguing becomes the problem. The refusal becomes the problem. The attitude becomes the problem. But one of the gifts of homeschooling is that we also get the opportunity to know our children deeply. We get to notice patterns. Over time, we start realizing that the refusal isn't always about the schoolwork. Sometimes the math battle isn't really about math at all. Sometimes it's anxiety about making mistakes. Sometimes it's frustration with feeling behind. Sometimes it's mental exhaustion after working hard to stay regulated all morning. The same thing is true for many of the behaviors parents bring to coaching. The sibling conflict often isn't just about the sibling. The explosion usually isn't about the thing that happened thirty seconds ago. The resistance to getting started may have very little to do with motivation. When we slow down enough to look beneath the behavior, we often discover that what appears to be one problem on the surface is actually something entirely different underneath. And that understanding changes how we respond. Not because we remove expectations. Not because we stop holding boundaries. But because we're responding to the whole child instead of only reacting to the behavior we can see. Why Parents Often Miss What's Underneath The truth is that this is much easier to talk about than it is to do. When your child is yelling at a sibling, refusing schoolwork, or arguing with everything you say, your brain isn't naturally thinking, "I wonder what deeper struggle might be underneath this." Your brain is usually thinking, "How do I make this stop?" And that makes sense. Behavior feels urgent. When you're trying to homeschool, manage a household, care for other children, and get through the day, there isn't always space to pause and get curious. Most of us were also raised to focus on behavior first. We learned to correct it, punish it, lecture about it, or make it stop. Very few of us were taught to become curious about what might be driving it. That's why this shift often takes practice. We're learning to look beyond the surface and ask different questions than we were taught to ask. Seeing the Whole Child One of the concepts I love from Dan Siegel's work is the idea that we can learn to see both the external behavior and the internal experience. We can pay attention to what a child is doing while also becoming curious about what they might be feeling, thinking, believing, or struggling with beneath the surface. That curiosity changes things. It helps us move from assumptions to understanding. Instead of immediately concluding, "My child is trying to make my life difficult" , we begin asking questions like: Could they be overwhelmed? Are they feeling disconnected? Is something making this harder than it appears? Do they have the skills they need for this moment? Notice that none of those questions remove boundaries or expectations. They simply help us respond with more information. In many ways, this is what emotionally intelligent parenting looks like. We learn to see the whole child rather than only the behavior they're displaying in a difficult moment. The behavior still matters. The boundaries still matter. The expectations still matter. But understanding the story underneath the behavior often gives us a much clearer path forward. Because when we can see beyond what is happening on the surface, we are often able to respond not just to the behavior itself, but to the child who is struggling beneath it. The more I work with families, the more convinced I become that behavior is often information. It's a clue. It's communication. It's one of the ways children show us what their nervous system is experiencing when they don't yet have the words to explain it themselves. When we begin looking through that lens, our questions start changing. Instead of asking, "How do I stop this behavior?" we begin asking, "What is this behavior telling me?" And instead of assuming every difficult moment is a character issue, we become curious about whether it's a capacity issue. That shift doesn't solve every problem overnight. But it often helps parents move from frustration to understanding, and from reacting to responding. And in my experience, that's where meaningful change usually begins.

One of the most helpful things I've learned in my work with children is that behavior makes a lot more sense when we stop looking at it in isolation. I remember early in my teaching career feeling confused by how inconsistent some children seemed. One day they were cooperative, engaged, and capable. The next day they were argumentative, emotional, withdrawn, or completely overwhelmed. At first, I viewed those differences the way many adults do. I assumed the child was choosing whether or not to cooperate. But over time I started noticing something. The children weren't changing nearly as much as I thought they were. What was changing was their nervous system. And once I began understanding that, behavior started making a lot more sense. Polyvagal Theory can sound intimidating when people first hear about it. There are diagrams, nervous system states, and lots of scientific terminology. But the piece that matters most for parents is actually pretty simple: our nervous systems are constantly gathering information about the world around us and asking one basic question: " Am I safe?" When the answer is yes, we tend to have greater access to the skills we want our children to use. We can think clearly, solve problems, tolerate frustration, communicate effectively, and learn. But when our nervous system begins sensing danger, overwhelm, pressure, stress, or disconnection, those skills often become harder to access. And that's true for our children too. This is one of the reasons I encourage parents to be careful about assuming behavior is always a matter of motivation. Sometimes the child who is refusing math isn't refusing because they don't care. Sometimes they're overwhelmed. Sometimes they're anxious about making mistakes. Sometimes they've already spent the morning working incredibly hard to stay regulated and simply don't have much left in the tank. Sometimes the child who is arguing about every request isn't trying to control the family. Their nervous system may be feeling threatened, pressured, or out of control, and arguing is simply how that discomfort shows up. And sometimes the child who seems lazy, disconnected, or unmotivated isn't actually any of those things. They may be shutting down because they're overwhelmed. This doesn't mean behavior shouldn't be addressed. It doesn't mean boundaries disappear, and it certainly doesn't mean children are no longer responsible for their actions. What it does mean is that understanding what's driving the behavior helps us respond more effectively. Because if a child is drowning, giving a lecture about swimming harder isn't particularly helpful. And in many families, that's what happens unintentionally. Parents see a behavior and immediately move to correction before understanding what might be happening underneath it. The more I work with families, the more certain I am that behavior is information. It's a clue. It's communication. It's one of the ways children show us what their nervous system is experiencing when they don't yet have the words to explain it themselves. When we begin looking through that lens, our questions start changing. Instead of asking, "How do I stop this behavior?" we begin asking, "What is this behavior telling me?" And instead of assuming every difficult moment is a character issue, we become curious about whether it's a capacity issue. That shift doesn't solve every problem overnight. But it often helps parents move from frustration to understanding, and from reacting to responding. And in my experience, that's where meaningful change usually begins.

I think many parents are carrying around an invisible fear that sounds something like this: “If I don’t get these behaviors under control, I’m going to lose my child.” Especially parents homeschooling children with big emotions, explosive behaviors, anxiety, ADHD, nervous system sensitivity, or chronic overwhelm. Because these families often experience so much daily friction. The meltdowns. The arguing. The emotional intensity. The constant conflict around transitions, schoolwork, boundaries, or responsibilities. And over time, parents can begin feeling like the relationship itself is slipping away. But one of the most important things I want parents to understand is this: The ultimate goal is not perfect behavior. The ultimate goal is secure attachment.

Feelings Are Not the Problem

When parents are struggling with constant meltdowns, defiance, arguing, emotional outbursts, or explosive reactions, most conversations with their child start becoming heavily focused on behavior correction. “Stop yelling.” “You need to calm down.” “That’s not acceptable.” “You need to listen.” “Go do your work.” “We’ve talked about this already.” And honestly, that makes sense. Parents are trying to lead. Trying to teach. Trying to keep the day moving. Trying to survive homeschooling while managing everyone’s emotions and behaviors. But one thing that quietly disappears in many families dealing with chronic stress is active listening. Not because parents don’t care, but because survival mode shifts the focus toward managing behavior as quickly as possible. The problem is that many emotionally intense children already feel deeply misunderstood.  And when children constantly feel corrected without feeling understood, defensiveness usually grows.

When most parents start homeschooling, they usually imagine a certain version of success. A child sitting at the table. Completing lessons. Following directions. Working independently. Staying relatively calm and cooperative. And for some kids, that works beautifully. But for homeschool parents raising kids with big emotions, intense reactions, chronic overwhelm, ADHD, anxiety, perfectionism, PDA traits, sensory struggles, or explosive behaviors… Those traditional goals often become the very thing creating more conflict. As a former special educator and homeschool mom, I’ve seen this happen over and over again. Parents assume the problem is: laziness lack of discipline manipulation defiance “not trying hard enough” But many times, the real issue is that the child’s nervous system cannot sustain the demands being placed on them the way we expect. And when homeschool goals are built around compliance instead of regulation, everything starts spiraling.

Parents do not grow through shame. They grow through safety, support, reflection, and accountability. One of the biggest misconceptions I see in parenting spaces is the belief that if a parent is defensive, resistant, reactive, or struggling, they simply “don’t care enough.” But defensiveness usually comes from protection. Parents are often trying to protect: themselves, their identity, the way they were raised, their beliefs, their relationship with their own parents, or the fear that maybe there could have been a healthier way all along. That is incredibly vulnerable territory. Because when parents begin questioning why they parent the way they do, they often have to confront painful truths: Maybe they weren’t treated the way they deserved. Maybe fear shaped more of their parenting than they realized. Maybe survival patterns from childhood are still showing up in their parenting today. That kind of reflection can feel destabilizing at first. Which is why real parenting support cannot just be about correcting behavior. It has to include compassion, nervous system awareness, emotional safety, and practical support for change. That does not mean excusing harmful behavior. It does not mean there are no boundaries or accountability. And it absolutely does not mean child safety is ignored. I am a mandated reporter. If I suspect abuse or neglect, I am legally and ethically required to report it. At the same time, I also recognize that many parents come into coaching carrying enormous stress, overwhelm, generational patterns, lack of support, and nervous system dysregulation themselves. Adult behavior is communication too. That perspective matters because it changes how we approach growth. Instead of asking: “What’s wrong with this parent?” We begin asking: “What is driving this behavior?” “What fear, belief, stress, or survival response is underneath this?” That curiosity creates room for change. My role as a parent coach is not to shame parents or override medical or mental health professionals. It’s to help parents slow down enough to see themselves, their child, and their family patterns more clearly so they can begin responding with intention instead of constant reactivity. Sometimes that also means helping families connect with additional support: therapy, family counseling, support groups, medical care, or mental health services. Because parenting was never meant to happen in isolation. And the truth is: Most parents are not looking for someone to judge them. They’re looking for someone who can help them understand what’s happening, why it’s happening, and how to move forward without losing connection with their child or themselves.

Most parenting strategies are driven by fear. Not because parents are bad. Not because they don’t care. But because fear is often what’s underneath control. And most of us were raised to believe that control creates safety, respect, and cooperation. In my work with families, I commonly see parents parenting from control instead of connection. Not maliciously, but because it’s what they experienced themselves, over and over again at home and in society. Control feels safer. If I can make my child obey, then maybe everything will feel okay. If I can stop the emotions, stop the chaos, stop the conflict, maybe I can finally breathe. But when we look underneath different parenting styles, we often find fear sitting at the root.

Most parents don’t reach out for support when things first begin feeling hard. Usually, they reach out when they feel like they can’t do it anymore. When they’ve tried everything they know how to try. When the meltdowns have become daily. When the home no longer feels peaceful or sustainable. When they’re afraid of their child’s aggression. When homeschooling suddenly feels impossible to continue. When they’re exhausted, isolated, and silently wondering if they’re failing. I’ve had parents come to me after expulsions. After police involvement for safety concerns. After years of power struggles and emotional explosions that slowly took over the entire family dynamic. And almost every time, the parent says some version of: “We can’t keep living like this.” That’s usually the moment people finally feel ready to seek support. Not because they’re weak. Not because they don’t love their child enough. And not because they haven’t already tried incredibly hard. Most of these parents have spent years trying to hold everything together on their own. They’ve read the books. Tried the sticker charts. Taken away privileges. Given more consequences. Tried being stricter. Tried being gentler. Tried reasoning. Tried rewards. Tried punishment. Tried keeping everyone happy. And underneath all of it is usually one overwhelming feeling: fear . Fear that their child is struggling. Fear that they’re messing this up. Fear that things are getting worse instead of better. Fear that they’re losing connection with their child. The hard truth is that many parents wait until crisis point because that’s when they finally realize this is bigger than “bad behavior.” This is nervous system overwhelm. This is relationship strain. This is unmet needs, missing skills, chronic stress, emotional dysregulation, and family systems all colliding together. And honestly, I wish families wouldn’t wait so long to get support. But meaningful change usually happens when parents are finally ready for it, not when they’re forced into it. Because connection-based parenting is not just learning new scripts or strategies. It requires parents to slow down enough to begin asking deeper questions: Why is this happening? What is my child communicating? What happens inside of me during conflict? What beliefs am I parenting from? What kind of relationship do I actually want to build with my child long term? That kind of reflection takes vulnerability. But it’s also where healing and change begin.