Fine at School, Falling Apart at Home

There is a group of students quietly slipping through the cracks. They are not disruptive. They do not draw attention. They mask all day, holding in their discomfort, suppressing stims, forcing smiles, and working tirelessly to meet expectations that were never designed for their nervous systems.

These are the students who come home and unravel. The ones whose parents see the tears, the meltdowns, the shutdowns, the exhaustion. This is after-school restraint collapse, the release that happens when a child has spent the entire day holding themselves together in an environment where they have little autonomy, few safe outlets, and constant pressure to conform.

They are experiencing burnout, anxiety, and the compounding effects of chronic stress. But because they appear fine at school, they are often ignored, dismissed, or disbelieved.

Families write emails. They describe what they see. They ask for help. And too often, the response is the same.

“We just don’t see that at school.”

Here is the truth: we can still support what we don’t see.

Distress does not disappear because it is hidden. The signs are everywhere: fatigue, withdrawal, perfectionism, compliance, avoidance. The absence of visible “behaviour” is not proof of wellness. It is often a sign of deep internal struggle.

Students should not have to fight to hold it together all day only to collapse at home. When regulation depends on masking, it is not resilience, it is survival. And when children spend their days with little choice, constant correction, and no meaningful autonomy, that collapse is not surprising. It is a predictable human response to chronic stress and powerlessness.

Too often, the focus shifts to coaching parents on how to manage the restraint collapse at home through routines, sensory breaks, or reward charts, without ever asking the harder questions:
What is happening at school?
What supports are missing?
What messages are students receiving about who they are and what is valued?

If your child is coming home and falling apart, document it. Let the school know. Ask your child what parts of the day they find difficult and use that as a starting point. This cannot be dismissed as “home behaviour.” It must be understood as the cost of enduring a day in a system that rewards compliance over connection. When holding it together is praised, home becomes the only safe place to fall apart.

Schools have a duty of care to notice distress even when it is quiet. This means listening to families, believing what they share, and recognizing that “fine at school” is not the same as thriving. Educators need training to identify internalized distress and to create learning environments where safety does not depend on suppression, where students are given voice, choice, and the right to be themselves.

Accessibility must be made a priority. We must provide ramps for all students, even when we cannot see the wheelchair. Internalizing distress is still distress, and invisible barriers are still barriers.

A system that measures success by silence is a system that is failing children. The goal should never be to make students appear calm; it should be to ensure they feel safe enough to be authentic.

Families cannot continue to carry what the system refuses to see. 

It is time for schools to take responsibility for the hidden harm of compliance-based education and to build classrooms rooted in autonomy, care, belonging, and equity.