Learning begins when children feel safe – Kathryn Berkett

Building trust and connection in schools is fundamental to academic success. Photo / 123RF

THE FACTS

• Children learn best when they feel emotionally and psychologically safe, not just physically safe.
• Relational environments in classrooms, like those in Porirua East, improve engagement and learning.
• For neurodiverse learners, individualised, relational approaches are essential for building resilience and academic success.

As someone who has spent years immersed in neuroscience education, working with teachers, students and communities across Aotearoa, one truth has become increasingly evident to me: children learn best when they feel safe.

Not just physically safe, but emotionally and psychologically secure. This isn’t a theory or an educational philosophy – it’s a biological fact.

In my work, I’ve had the privilege of training under Dr Bruce Perry, a global authority on trauma and brain development. Through that learning, and in my own practice, I’ve come to understand how the brain’s primary task is to assess for safety, moment by moment. This process, called neuroception, is a constant, unconscious scanning of the environment to decide whether it is safe enough to shift from survival mode into learning mode.

When the brain perceives threat – whether through conflict, exclusion, uncertainty or stress – it activates what I call the “red brain”. In this state, energy is diverted to survival responses: fight, flight or freeze. The rational, thinking part of the brain – the “green brain” – becomes less accessible. It’s not a failure of character or discipline; it’s a biological survival strategy.

This is why the relational environment in our classrooms matters so much. Learning doesn’t start with content. It starts with connection. A warm greeting at the door, a teacher who notices when a student is unsettled, a moment of shared humour – these small relational exchanges create the neurological conditions for learning. They tell the brain: you are safe here.

I’ve seen the impact of this approach first-hand in a project we’ve supported in Porirua East, where teacher aides make daily, intentional connections with students who need them most. It’s simple, consistent, relational work. Alongside those connections, they introduce manageable challenges – what we call tolerable stress – that help children build resilience in a supported, emotionally safe context.

The results speak for themselves: Reduced behavioural incidents, improved attendance, and meaningful gains in engagement and learning. Not because the curriculum changed, but because the emotional climate did. The brains of those young people were able to shift from survival mode into learning mode.

It’s important to understand that safety isn’t only about protection from harm. Emotional safety is knowing you belong, that you’ll be listened to, that mistakes are part of learning and that you matter. It’s knowing someone will notice if you’re not yourself.

This is especially vital for our neurodiverse learners; for example, children with autism myelinate differently. Myelination is the process of strengthening neural pathways that support learning and behaviour regulation. Because of this more extensive myelination journey, autistic learners have a higher need for that felt sense of safety. When these students feel unsafe, misunderstood or constantly pressured to conform to standard expectations, their capacity to learn diminishes.

This is why individualised, relational approaches are so essential. When we tailor our teaching to the child in front of us – taking the time to understand their needs, their developmental stage and their unique abilities – we not only increase their chances of academic success, but we also help build the kind of brain resilience that benefits them throughout life.

We sometimes hear about the pressures on schools to deliver standardised outcomes, and while consistency has its place, what’s equally important is recognising the human variability in any classroom. Brains develop at different rates and are influenced by everything from sleep and nutrition to stress and relationships. The most successful classrooms aren’t necessarily the ones with the most resources or newest technology, they’re the ones where students feel safe, valued and known.

Relational teaching doesn’t require expensive programmes or complex interventions. It’s often the simplest things that have the most impact, like singing a waiata before a writing task, offering a high-five after a tricky maths problem or turning a spelling test into a team challenge.

These activities release endorphins – the brain’s natural mood enhancers. Endorphins aren’t just about feeling good, they actively support the process of myelination, allowing neural connections to form more efficiently.

When I work with schools around the country, I see teachers already doing this every day. They create learning spaces where children feel valued and seen, even under significant time and workload pressures. They build trusting relationships, offer predictability and warmth, and respond to students as whole people rather than simply learners of content.

The relational work teachers do is crucial. It’s not a soft skill or an optional extra – it’s the foundation for every academic, social, and emotional outcome we seek for our young people.

It’s also a reminder that consistency matters. Children need to know that their teachers’ care isn’t conditional and that the classroom is a predictable and safe space regardless of what may be happening in the rest of their lives.

As a country, if we want to lift educational outcomes, we need to keep supporting environments where teachers can nurture these connections.

Learning doesn’t happen in isolation from emotion. It happens when the brain feels safe enough to trust, to explore, and to take risks.

Before we can talk about numeracy or literacy, we need to ask: does this child feel safe here?