How to Help Children and Teenagers Respond Rather Than React When Big Emotions Take Over.

It's 7:43 am. You're already running late, one child can't find their shoes, another has decided breakfast is a personal insult and you've asked the same question four times without getting anything resembling a useful answer. Then it happens. The tears begin, voices rise and the morning unravels into an argument that nobody particularly wanted to have.

Or perhaps you're a teacher. You've spent twenty minutes carefully explaining a lesson, only for a student to screw up their work, push their chair back and announce, loudly enough for the entire class to hear, that the task is stupid. You can feel your own frustration building, you've got another twenty-five students waiting and the last thing you need is another confrontation.

Somewhere in both situations, an exhausted adult delivers those two familiar words: "Calm down." Fantastic advice. Right up there with telling someone who can't sleep to "just go to sleep".

Of course, we understand why adults say it. We need the situation to settle. We need children to listen, classrooms to function and families to get through ordinary routines without every disagreement turning into a major event. But wanting a child to calm down and teaching them how to manage their emotions are two very different things.

When children experience intense anger, disappointment, anxiety, frustration or embarrassment, they don't always have the skills, understanding or capacity to respond constructively. Sometimes they know exactly what they should do but struggle to do it when the pressure rises. At other times, the adults supporting them are so focused on stopping the behaviour that they miss an opportunity to understand what's driving it.

If we want children and teenagers to become emotionally intelligent, resilient and capable young people, we need to think beyond managing the behaviour we can see. We need to help them understand their emotional experiences, recognise what influences their reactions and develop practical ways to respond when things become difficult.

That requires connection, clear expectations, appropriate support and plenty of practice. It also requires adults to recognise an uncomfortable truth: sometimes the way we respond to a child's emotions can make the situation better or significantly worse.

Emotional regulation isn't about making feelings disappear

One of the biggest misconceptions surrounding emotional regulation is that success looks like a calm, quiet and agreeable child. We often assume that when the tears stop, the shouting ends or the child begins following instructions, they've successfully regulated their emotions. But outward behaviour doesn't always tell us what's happening underneath.

Emotional regulation refers to our ability to influence how emotions develop, how we experience them and how we express them. In everyday language, it means learning to understand what we're feeling and respond in a way that is helpful, safe and appropriate for the situation. Sometimes that involves calming our bodies. Sometimes it means asking for support, changing how we interpret an experience or learning to continue with something important while still feeling uncomfortable.

A child who says, "I'm really angry, and I need a minute before we talk," is demonstrating emotional regulation even though the anger hasn't disappeared. A teenager who feels anxious before an unfamiliar social event but chooses to attend with some support is doing the same. Equally, a student who suddenly becomes silent after being reprimanded might appear settled while actually feeling frightened, embarrassed or overwhelmed.

Consider a student who has spent several weeks preparing for a school performance, only to forget their lines in front of an audience. Afterwards, they're devastated and refuse to talk about what happened. One adult might respond by saying, "Don't be so dramatic. Everyone makes mistakes, so get over it." Another might recognise how disappointed and embarrassed the student feels, give them some space and later offer an opportunity to discuss what might help them feel more prepared next time.

The second response doesn't remove the embarrassment or pretend the experience was enjoyable. It helps the student understand that uncomfortable emotions can be experienced, supported and eventually worked through. More importantly, it creates an opportunity to learn that making a mistake doesn't have to determine how they see themselves or whether they're willing to try again.

This distinction is important because emotions and behaviour are closely connected, but they're not the same thing. We can accept that a child feels furious without accepting that they hit someone. We can understand why a teenager feels anxious without automatically removing every situation that makes them nervous. Our responsibility is to help young people make sense of their emotions while developing the capacity to choose how they act.

The goal isn't to raise children who never experience big emotions. It's to help them develop the confidence and capability to experience those emotions without allowing every feeling to dictate their next decision.

Look beneath the behaviour before deciding what it means

One of the easiest mistakes adults make is assuming that the behaviour we're observing tells us everything we need to know about what's happening. A child refusing to participate might appear defiant, but their resistance could involve confusion, embarrassment or fear of making a mistake. A teenager who becomes angry when questioned about school might be struggling with friendship difficulties, academic pressure or something they don't yet know how to explain.

That doesn't mean every challenging behaviour has a complicated psychological explanation, nor does it mean children should be excused from responsibility because they're experiencing difficult emotions. Sometimes children simply don't want to do what we're asking. The problem begins when we decide we know why someone is behaving a certain way before we've taken the time to understand the situation.

Imagine a Year 6 student who becomes visibly upset when their teacher announces a group project. They push their chair back, refuse to join their allocated group and insist they're not doing the activity. From the teacher's perspective, this might look like a straightforward refusal to follow instructions, particularly if the student has completed similar activities successfully before.

Now imagine that, earlier in the day, two classmates had criticised the student's contribution to another activity and told them they were useless at working in a team. The student hasn't told the teacher because they're embarrassed and worried that speaking up will make the situation worse. Being assigned another group activity brings that earlier experience back into focus.

The behaviour still needs to be addressed. Refusing to participate and disrupting the lesson can't simply become the solution. But the additional information changes what a useful adult response might look like.

Rather than immediately escalating the confrontation, the teacher could speak privately with the student, acknowledge that something appears to be making the task difficult and investigate whether the group arrangement needs attention. The student may still be expected to participate, but the support provided could look very different once the difficulty is understood.

Of course, this is a hypothetical example. We shouldn't assume every reluctant student has experienced exclusion, just as we shouldn't assume every angry teenager is struggling with anxiety. The purpose of curiosity is to investigate what might be contributing to the behaviour rather than invent a convenient explanation.

Sometimes the contributing factors are surprisingly ordinary. A child might be exhausted after a poor night's sleep, hungry after missing a meal, overwhelmed by noise or worried about an upcoming assessment. A seemingly insignificant event can become considerably harder to manage when several difficulties have accumulated throughout the day.

Research supports the importance of considering these everyday conditions. In an experimental study involving adolescents aged fourteen to seventeen, Baum and colleagues found that restricted sleep was associated with greater irritability, more negative mood and poorer emotional regulation. Although sleep isn't the explanation for every emotional challenge, the findings reinforce something parents and educators regularly observe: children can find it harder to manage their responses when they're physically and mentally exhausted.

Rather than immediately asking how to stop a behaviour, it can be more useful to consider what happened beforehand, what the young person might be struggling with and whether there are conditions we could change to make the situation more manageable.

If a child regularly becomes distressed during a particular activity, investigate whether the task is accessible, whether the instructions are clear and whether something in the environment is contributing to their frustration. Teaching a calming strategy might be helpful, but it won't resolve an unidentified learning difficulty, ongoing bullying or an environment that repeatedly overwhelms the child.

Understanding the reason behind a behaviour doesn't remove accountability. It gives us a better chance of responding in a way that actually changes something.

Why knowing what to do doesn't always mean children can do it

Most parents and teachers have experienced the frustration of having a wonderful conversation with a child about managing their emotions, only to watch everything they've discussed disappear during the next difficult moment.

A child might confidently explain that they'll take a break when they're angry, use respectful language during disagreements or ask for help when something becomes frustrating. Then an argument begins, emotions rise and the very strategies they've just demonstrated seem completely unavailable.

It's tempting to assume the child isn't listening or doesn't care enough to use what they've learnt. Sometimes motivation and willingness are part of the picture, but there's also an important developmental explanation.

Emotional regulation relies on several interacting abilities, including attention, memory, language, awareness of bodily sensations, flexible thinking and impulse control. These abilities develop throughout childhood and adolescence, and they can become harder to use when someone is highly distressed. Being able to explain a skill in a comfortable conversation doesn't guarantee that the same skill will be accessible when a child feels embarrassed, threatened, exhausted or overwhelmed.

We sometimes hear this explained through the idea that the emotional part of the brain takes over while the thinking part switches off. Although that can be a useful metaphor, it's not a scientifically accurate description of what happens. The brain's emotional and cognitive systems continue interacting during distress. What changes is how effectively someone can use the abilities they need to evaluate the situation, remember strategies and make considered decisions.

For adults, this means we need to adjust our expectations to the child's developmental stage and their capacity in the moment. A four-year-old who is overwhelmed because another child has taken their toy might need an adult to stay nearby, help protect everyone's safety and offer one manageable action. A nine-year-old may be ready to recognise an early warning sign and choose between two familiar strategies. A fifteen-year-old might benefit from greater privacy, time to think and some ownership over how and when the conversation happens.

These aren't fixed developmental rules. Children of the same age can have very different emotional, communication and sensory needs. Even a highly capable teenager may need simple, concrete support during a particularly difficult experience.

The important distinction is between what a child can do independently, what they can do with support and what they're not yet ready to manage. If we repeatedly demand independent emotional control before we've helped develop the necessary skills, we're expecting success without providing enough opportunity to learn.

That's why emotional regulation needs to be taught with the same patience, guidance and repetition we would apply to any other important developmental skill.

Co-regulation: how adults influence what happens next

When a child begins to escalate emotionally, one of the most influential factors in the interaction is often the response of the adult supporting them. This doesn't mean adults cause every difficult behaviour or that children are incapable of managing emotions without someone else. It means our behaviour, communication and the environment we create can either support a young person's ability to cope or add further pressure to an already difficult situation.

Psychologists and developmental researchers describe this process as co-regulation. In practical terms, co-regulation involves using supportive relationships, appropriate environmental structure and skills coaching to help someone manage their emotional responses. It's one of the ways children gradually develop the capacity to manage more situations independently.

There's encouraging evidence for the broader value of emotionally supportive parenting. A meta-analysis led by Gillian England-Mason examined fifteen randomised trials of parenting interventions focused on children's emotional development and found improvements in emotional competence among young children. Importantly, these studies evaluated broader parenting programmes rather than individual phrases or techniques. We shouldn't pretend that saying the right sentence guarantees an immediate change in behaviour. What the research does support is the value of helping adults become more capable and intentional in how they respond to children's emotional experiences.

Imagine a student who becomes angry after receiving feedback on an assignment. Their frustration turns into an argument, and the teacher responds by raising their voice, repeating instructions and warning the student about further consequences. The student becomes increasingly defensive, the teacher feels their authority is being challenged and the interaction quickly becomes a contest over who will back down first. At this point, both people are contributing to an escalating situation. The original problem might have been a disagreement about feedback, but the interaction has shifted into a struggle over control, respect and emotional reactions.

A different response could begin with the adult recognising their own frustration and deliberately reducing the pressure. They might lower their voice, provide a brief and clear instruction, move the discussion away from an audience or offer an agreed opportunity for the student to regain enough composure to engage.

For parents, the same principle applies during an argument about screen time, homework or household expectations. If your child raises their voice and you respond by becoming louder, more threatening or increasingly determined to win, the disagreement can quickly become about the relationship rather than the original issue.

Co-regulation isn't about pretending you're never frustrated. Parents and teachers are human, and there will be moments when our patience is tested. The skill lies in recognising our own emotional response and taking responsibility for what we do with it.

Saying, "I'm getting frustrated too, so I'm going to slow down and explain what I need," demonstrates emotional responsibility. Saying, "You're making me lose control," places responsibility for the adult's behaviour on the child.

Children are constantly learning from the responses they observe. When adults manage disagreement without humiliation, maintain boundaries without aggression and acknowledge their mistakes, they provide examples of the very emotional skills they're hoping young people will develop.

For educators, it's equally important that co-regulation isn't treated as an expectation that one teacher must manage every difficult situation without support. Clear school procedures, appropriate staffing, reliable assistance and consistent approaches across teams all influence whether emotionally supportive responses are realistic in a busy classroom.

We can't expect children to learn constructive responses under pressure if the adults around them consistently demonstrate the opposite.

What actually helps when a child is overwhelmed?

When a child or teenager is experiencing an intense emotional episode, adults often respond by increasing the amount of talking. We explain why the behaviour is unacceptable, ask questions about what happened, remind the child of expectations and attempt to reason them into a more appropriate response.

The intentions might be good, but the timing can be dreadful.

A child who is highly distressed may struggle to process several instructions, reflect on their behaviour or engage in a detailed conversation. Asking them to explain their choices while they're still overwhelmed can add another demand to a situation they're already finding difficult.

That doesn't mean we should avoid talking altogether. Some children find reassurance and conversation helpful during distress, while others benefit from quiet or space. The challenge is to recognise what the young person can manage at that moment and respond accordingly.

The first priority is safety. If a child is throwing objects, hitting someone or acting in a way that could cause harm, adults need to protect those involved and seek assistance where necessary. Boundaries should remain clear and proportionate, with language such as, "I can see you're angry, but I won't let anyone get hurt." Providing support doesn't mean allowing unsafe behaviour to continue.

Once immediate safety has been addressed, consider whether you can reduce the demands contributing to the situation. This might involve asking fewer questions, limiting the number of adults speaking, moving other students away or temporarily pausing an activity that can safely wait. Avoid crowding, cornering or unnecessary physical intervention, and maintain appropriate supervision.

The next step is to offer manageable support. A parent might say, "I'm here if you need me. We don't have to work everything out this second." A teacher might provide a familiar option to sit quietly, access an agreed support space or speak with another trusted adult. The intention is to create conditions in which the young person has a better opportunity to regain enough capacity to participate.

Adults also need to recognise that a child becoming quiet doesn't automatically mean they're ready to discuss what happened. Signs of readiness might include being able to indicate a preference, communicate a need, consider a small choice or take a safe next step. Eye contact, stillness and agreement aren't reliable measures of emotional recovery on their own.

Once the child is ready, the adult can begin addressing what happened and what needs to happen next. The important distinction is that we're not removing expectations simply because a child has become distressed. We're recognising that teaching, problem-solving and accountability are usually more productive when the young person can meaningfully participate.

Consider a child who becomes overwhelmed while completing a household chore and begins kicking furniture. You may need to stop the behaviour and protect everyone's safety, but delivering a lengthy lecture about responsibility is unlikely to help in that moment. Supporting the child to settle enough to communicate and later identifying what made the situation difficult creates a better opportunity to address both the behaviour and the skill they need to develop.

There isn't one universally proven sequence for managing every emotional episode, and any practical approach needs to be adjusted to the individual child and situation. What remains useful is the focus on safety, reduced pressure, appropriate support and returning to learning when the child is ready.

Building a regulation toolbox that actually works for the child

Somewhere along the way, deep breathing became the celebrity of emotional regulation. Posters appeared in classrooms, breathing exercises became part of wellbeing programmes and adults began encouraging children to smell imaginary flowers and blow out imaginary candles.

There's nothing inherently wrong with that. Comfortable, slower breathing can be helpful for some people, and research involving adults has found modest average benefits of breathwork for stress. However, the evidence doesn't establish that a particular breathing exercise is the best response for every child experiencing an emotional crisis.

For some children, being repeatedly told to breathe becomes another frustrating demand. Others may feel more uncomfortable when asked to focus closely on physical sensations. A strategy that helps one young person might be ineffective or unpleasant for another.

Rather than insisting on a single technique, parents and educators can help children develop a small collection of familiar responses they can choose from depending on the circumstances.

Some children benefit from movement, such as a short walk or gentle stretching. Others respond well to drawing, listening to music, sitting near a trusted adult or reducing the sensory demands around them. A quieter environment may be helpful for one child, while another prefers familiar background noise. Some teenagers find it easier to talk while walking or travelling in the car rather than sitting face-to-face for a serious conversation.

These aren't all equally proven interventions, nor are they guaranteed to produce immediate calm. They're practical options that can be explored collaboratively, with attention to the child's preferences, safety and ability to participate.

The key is to identify strategies when the child is relatively settled rather than introducing a long list during an emotional crisis. You might ask, "When you start getting frustrated, does having some space help, or would you rather someone stay with you?" Alternatively, you could explore whether movement, quiet, a familiar activity or talking to someone usually makes the next step easier.

Children should also have the opportunity to tell us when something isn't working. If breathing exercises make a teenager feel worse, continuing to insist on them teaches compliance rather than regulation. If a child requires sensory adjustments or communication support, those needs shouldn't suddenly become conditional on how calmly they behave.

A useful strategy is one that helps the young person respond more effectively to the situation, not simply one that makes the adult's job easier.

Helping children understand what happened and decide what to do next

Helping a child recover from an emotional episode is only part of the process. Once they're ready to reflect, we have an opportunity to develop the awareness, understanding and decision-making skills that contribute to emotional regulation.

A productive conversation can begin by helping the young person describe what they experienced. This involves identifying the emotion, recognising any relevant physical sensations and considering the circumstances surrounding the reaction. Younger children may need pictures, examples or a few familiar words to choose from. Older children might be able to distinguish between disappointment, embarrassment, frustration, anxiety or feeling rejected.

Adults should resist the temptation to tell children exactly what they're feeling. A statement such as, "You were clearly jealous," might be inaccurate and can create another disagreement. A more useful approach is to offer a tentative observation and invite the child to explain their experience in their own words.

Once the emotion has been acknowledged, help the young person consider the difference between what happened and what they believe it means. These aren't always the same thing, and learning to distinguish them can create opportunities for more flexible thinking.

Imagine a teenager who becomes upset after noticing that several friends have organised an outing without inviting them. They might immediately conclude that nobody wants to spend time with them anymore. That interpretation could be accurate, partly accurate or completely mistaken, but treating it as an established fact before exploring the situation can intensify the emotional response.

A supportive adult could acknowledge that being left out is painful while gently exploring what the teenager knows. Was the event organised by someone outside their usual friendship group? Has exclusion happened before? Is there someone they trust who could clarify what happened?

The aim isn't to convince the teenager that everything is fine or to manufacture a positive explanation. If deliberate exclusion or bullying is occurring, the young person may need practical support, protection and action from responsible adults. In other circumstances, considering alternative explanations may help prevent an unnecessary argument or damaged friendship.

Psychologists describe changing how we interpret a situation as cognitive reappraisal. It's one of several recognised ways people can regulate emotional responses. Other approaches involve accepting that an uncomfortable feeling is present, directing attention towards a manageable activity or solving a practical problem that contributed to the distress.

These approaches serve different purposes. A child who feels nervous before trying something unfamiliar might benefit from reassurance, preparation and supported participation. A teenager who is grieving a significant loss may need time, connection and acceptance rather than encouragement to find a positive interpretation. A student experiencing repeated harassment requires action to address the problem, not simply strategies for tolerating it.

This is why emotional regulation needs to be responsive to the circumstances rather than reduced to a single technique. Once children can understand what they're experiencing, we can help them consider which response fits the situation and what support might be needed to carry it out.

The conversation becomes especially useful when it leads to a realistic action. A young person might decide to ask a question, request assistance, speak respectfully about a concern, allow themselves time to recover or return to an activity they had previously avoided.

We should also remember that reflection has limits. A child who's unwilling or unable to discuss an experience immediately shouldn't be forced into a detailed explanation. After a frightening or traumatic event, adults should avoid pressuring young people to recount distressing details and seek appropriate professional guidance when necessary.

The purpose of reflection is to build understanding and useful choices, not to make children provide an emotional explanation for every difficult moment.

Empathy and accountability belong together

A common concern among parents and educators is that validating children's emotions will somehow encourage poor behaviour. If we acknowledge how disappointed a child feels, will they believe the rules no longer apply? If we show empathy towards a student who becomes angry, are we teaching them that emotional distress excuses disrespect?

These concerns usually emerge when we treat understanding and accountability as competing approaches. In reality, children need both. Validation means recognising that someone's emotional experience makes sense from their perspective, even when we disagree with their interpretation or behaviour. It doesn't require us to endorse every decision they make, excuse harm or abandon reasonable expectations.

Consider a child who becomes furious because their gaming time has finished. Responding with, "Stop being ridiculous, it's only a game," dismisses their experience and may increase the conflict. Allowing another hour of gaming simply because they're upset removes a boundary that may still be reasonable.

A more constructive response acknowledges the disappointment while keeping the expectation clear: "I understand you're frustrated because you were enjoying yourself and don't want to stop. Gaming time is finished for tonight. It's okay to be disappointed, but throwing the controller isn't acceptable." The child is given permission to experience the emotion, while the adult remains responsible for maintaining the boundary.

The same principle applies in classrooms. If a student responds disrespectfully after being corrected, the behaviour still needs to be addressed. However, the teacher might also consider whether the instruction was clear, whether the timing was appropriate and whether the response contributed to an unnecessary escalation. Recognising that the adult could have handled something differently doesn't excuse the student's behaviour, and holding the student accountable doesn't mean the adult's choices are beyond reflection.

Consequences can have a place in teaching responsibility, but they should be safe, proportionate and connected to the behaviour. Temporarily removing an object that's being used dangerously is different from withdrawing affection, humiliating a child or threatening them into silence. Necessary supports such as food, access to toileting, communication aids and appropriate sensory accommodations should never be withheld to force emotional control.

The deeper question is whether our response helps the young person understand the impact of their actions and develop the ability to make a better choice next time.

If a child repeatedly throws objects when frustrated, we may need an immediate consequence to protect safety. However, unless we also help the child recognise frustration earlier, communicate their needs and practise a safer response, the behaviour may remain difficult to change.

Consequences can address what happened. Emotional learning helps children understand what to do differently when a similar situation happens again.

Repairing relationships after things go wrong

Even with the best intentions, difficult emotional moments don't always end well. Children sometimes say hurtful things, teenagers make impulsive decisions and adults occasionally respond with more frustration than they intended. These experiences can damage trust, particularly when the focus remains on identifying who was wrong rather than understanding what needs to change.

Once everyone has had enough time to recover, it's useful to return to the situation and consider whether something needs to be repaired. Recovery and repair aren't necessarily the same process. A child might have stopped shouting but still feel embarrassed or unsettled, and the visible end of an emotional reaction isn't automatically the right moment for a detailed conversation.

When the young person is ready, reflection can focus on understanding what made the situation difficult, whether anything helped, who was affected and what could be done differently next time. These conversations work best when they are manageable, specific and focused on learning rather than repeatedly revisiting everything that went wrong.

For a younger child, this might involve practising an alternative way to ask for a turn or discussing how to look after materials when frustrated. For a teenager, it could involve acknowledging the impact of an angry message, deciding whether an apology is needed and agreeing on a better way to manage future disagreements.

Importantly, repair isn't only the child's responsibility. If an adult has handled a situation poorly, acknowledging their contribution demonstrates what genuine accountability looks like.

A parent might say, "I didn't handle that conversation well. I raised my voice and I know that made it harder for us to work things out. I'm sorry for my part in that. We still need to talk about what happened, but I want us to approach it differently."

That response doesn't surrender parental authority or remove the child's responsibility. It demonstrates how someone can recognise a mistake, acknowledge its impact and commit to a more constructive approach.

Repair might also involve apologising to someone who was hurt, replacing damaged materials, making amends or agreeing on a different plan. Forced public apologies rarely provide a meaningful substitute for genuine understanding and people who have been hurt shouldn't be pressured to offer immediate forgiveness.

Children learn a great deal from watching how adults handle mistakes. If we want them to take responsibility without becoming defensive or ashamed, we need to demonstrate that admitting an error doesn't diminish someone's worth. It creates an opportunity to rebuild trust and improve what happens next.

Emotional regulation needs to be practised before it's needed

Imagine introducing someone to swimming by pushing them into the deep end and explaining the technique while they're struggling to stay afloat. Most people would agree that this is a fairly questionable teaching strategy.

Yet we often approach emotional regulation in a surprisingly similar way. We wait until children are distressed and then expect them to remember, understand and independently use strategies they may have barely practised.

Learning emotional regulation requires repeated opportunities to recognise difficult situations, try responses, receive feedback and reflect on what helps. The more familiar a strategy becomes in manageable situations, the more opportunity a young person has to access it when the pressure increases.

Research into school-based social and emotional learning supports the broader value of intentional teaching. A major 2023 meta-analysis led by Christina Cipriano examined 424 studies involving more than 575,000 students across 53 countries. The review found benefits across social and emotional skills, behaviour and several school-related outcomes, although results varied depending on program content, context and implementation.

These findings don't mean every commercial wellbeing program, breathing exercise or classroom poster has been scientifically validated. They indicate that structured, well-supported opportunities to develop emotional and social capabilities can make a meaningful contribution to children's development.

For parents, practice can be woven into ordinary family life rather than becoming another activity that needs to be squeezed into an already busy schedule.

If your child regularly becomes frustrated with homework, help them identify an early warning sign and practise asking for assistance before the frustration becomes overwhelming. Instead of waiting until the books go flying, you might agree that when the work stops making sense, the child can say, "I'm stuck. Can you show me the first step?"

When they use that strategy, recognise the specific behaviour. Rather than simply praising them for being calm, acknowledge that they noticed a difficulty, asked for help and continued working through the problem. This reinforces something they can use again.

For educators, similar practice can be incorporated into everyday classroom interactions. Students can learn language for seeking clarification, disagreeing respectfully, handling mistakes, requesting support and recovering after disappointment. Short conversations after manageable setbacks can often provide more useful learning than lengthy discussions following a major incident.

Practice should also involve the situations in which children are likely to need the skills. Losing a board game, waiting for a turn, receiving constructive feedback or adjusting to a changed plan all provide natural opportunities to develop frustration tolerance and flexible thinking. Adults can support children through these ordinary challenges without deliberately manufacturing distress.

It's equally important to consider the environment. Predictable routines, clear instructions, accessible learning tasks, appropriate breaks and opportunities for connection can reduce unnecessary pressure. When children are repeatedly becoming overwhelmed in the same situation, the answer may involve teaching a new response, changing the conditions or both.

For teenagers, involvement in planning becomes increasingly important. Young people may find strategies more relevant when they have a meaningful opportunity to explain what helps, what feels embarrassing and how they would prefer adults to offer support.

A teenager who doesn't want to discuss an emotional issue in front of siblings might be more comfortable talking privately later. A student who finds public attention overwhelming might benefit from an agreed, discreet way of requesting support. Developing independence means gradually increasing young people's ownership over their decisions while ensuring appropriate guidance remains available.

One of the most useful things adults can do is become more realistic about what success looks like, because nothing great simply happens overnight. Progress might mean a child recognising frustration earlier, asking for help before becoming overwhelmed or recovering more quickly after a setback. It might mean a teenager choosing to have a difficult conversation rather than withdrawing completely, or a student who still feels anxious but is willing to participate with appropriate support.

If we only measure improvement by the absence of tears, anger or visible distress, we risk overlooking some of the most meaningful signs of emotional growth.

There will also be situations where ordinary emotional coaching and classroom support aren't enough. Persistent distress, significant changes in behaviour, withdrawal from important activities or difficulties that substantially affect everyday functioning may require assessment and support from a qualified health professional. Any concerns involving immediate safety, self-harm or threats of harm need an appropriate urgent response. Emotional intelligence education is valuable, but it isn't a substitute for mental health treatment when treatment is needed.

The real challenge for parents and educators

Helping children and teenagers manage big emotions isn't about finding a magical phrase that instantly settles every argument. Nor is it about becoming a permanently patient adult who never gets frustrated, raises their voice or wishes everyone would simply cooperate for five minutes. If that were the requirement, most of us would be in trouble by Tuesday morning.

The real work is more practical, more demanding and ultimately more valuable. It involves recognising the difference between a feeling and a behaviour, becoming curious about what might be contributing to a reaction, providing support that matches the child's current capacity and maintaining clear expectations without sacrificing connection.

It also requires us to recognise that emotional regulation is developed through experience. Children learn when we help them understand what they're feeling, when we demonstrate more constructive responses during difficult moments and when we give them opportunities to practise before the pressure becomes overwhelming.

There will still be slammed doors, unfinished homework, friendship dramas, classroom disruptions and arguments about screen time. Children won't always use the strategies they've been taught, and adults won't always get their responses right. None of that means the learning has failed.

What matters is whether we're gradually helping young people recognise their emotions earlier, communicate their needs more effectively, take responsibility for their behaviour and recover from difficult experiences with greater confidence.

Parents and educators have an extraordinary amount of influence in these moments, although that influence often appears in ways we don't immediately recognise. Sometimes it comes through a carefully planned lesson or a meaningful conversation. More often, it comes through ordinary interactions when something has gone wrong and a child is watching to see what the adult will do next.

Those moments teach children whether adults will listen when something is difficult, whether mistakes can be addressed without humiliation and whether relationships can remain secure even when behaviour needs to change.

The next time a child or teenager becomes overwhelmed, it's worth noticing your first instinct. Are you trying to understand what's happening, or are you simply trying to stop the behaviour because it's uncomfortable, inconvenient or disruptive? On a difficult day, most of us will recognise a little of both, because that moment of awareness gives us an opportunity to choose a more useful response.

Instead of focusing only on how quickly we can make the emotion disappear, we can ask ourselves better questions, such as, “what does this young person need from me right now?” and “what can I help them learn for next time?”

That question won't eliminate every difficult moment. It will, however, help us approach those moments with greater understanding, clearer expectations and a stronger commitment to developing the skills young people need.

Yet, the real measure of emotional regulation isn't whether children can remain perfectly calm when everything is going their way. It's whether, over time, they become more capable of navigating frustration, disappointment, uncertainty and pressure without unnecessarily harming themselves, other people or the relationships that matter to them. If this is what we want children to learn, it has to be something they're able to practise with us.