Gentle Shifts: Compassionate Teaching Strategies for a System That Isn’t Built for Care

A Mindful Teacher’s Guide to Realistic, Compassionate Teaching Strategies

The call for compassionate teaching echoes in staffrooms and classrooms across the country. We feel it deep in our bones—the need for softer, more human-centred ways of working with our students. But in a system that hasn’t yet caught up, how do we teach with compassion without burning ourselves out?

This is the question so many mindful educators are quietly holding. The desire is there. The intention is strong. Yet the constraints—of time, curriculum, class sizes, and expectation—can make true change feel just out of reach.

And yet, there is space. Not always in the system as a whole, but in the small moments of our days. In the way we approach our students. In how we hold ourselves. In the tiny, repeated choices that shape classroom culture.

If you’ve read my previous post, Compassionate Teaching in Modern Classrooms: The Hidden Shift Every Educator Needs to Understand, you’ll know we explored the systemic and emotional changes shaping our classrooms today. This post continues that conversation—shifting the focus from awareness to action.

Here, I’ll offer practical, compassionate teaching strategies you can use right now, even in a system that often feels out of step with what students and teachers truly need. These gentle shifts don’t require a complete overhaul—just a willingness to meet this moment with care, flexibility, and presence.

Let’s explore some gentle, actionable ways to bring more compassion into your teaching practice—starting right where you are.

Begin With You: The Nervous System of the Classroom

If a classroom has a heartbeat, it’s often the teacher. Your regulation, your energy, your presence—they set the tone. This isn’t about responsibility or pressure; it’s about influence. When your nervous system is calm, your classroom feels safer. And when it’s dysregulated, everything feels harder.

Compassionate teaching begins with self-compassion.

Start by noticing:

• How does your body feel when the day begins?

• What internal messages do you send yourself after a rough morning?

• How often do you breathe deeply and consciously during the school day?

  
  

Simple rituals can become anchors:

• A two-minute pause before the first bell.

• A calming scent or essential oil on your wrist.

• A visual reminder near your desk: It’s okay to go slow.

When we honour our own nervous systems, we teach our students that theirs matter too.

Reframing “Disruption” as Distress

In classrooms shaped by noise, movement, and emotional highs and lows, behaviour management often feels like firefighting. But what if we replaced “management” with “meeting”—as in, meeting a need?

It starts with a shift in language and mindset:

• “He’s being defiant” becomes “He’s overwhelmed.”

• “She’s off-task again” becomes “She’s struggling to focus—what’s getting in the way?”

• “They’re not listening” becomes “They might not feel safe or seen right now.”

This doesn't excuse harmful behaviour—but it contextualises it. And that context changes how we respond.

A realistic compassionate approach in action might look like:

• Softening your tone before raising your voice.

• Kneeling beside a student to speak rather than calling across the room.

• Allowing a child to take a moment in a quiet corner instead of pushing through.

No expensive program needed—just presence, perspective, and a willingness to pause.

Regulate First, Teach Second

The brain in survival mode can’t learn. That’s not philosophy—it’s neuroscience. When students are dysregulated, the logical part of the brain (the prefrontal cortex) takes a back seat to the amygdala, the brain’s alarm system—a shift well-documented in neurodevelopmental research (McLaughlin, Sheridan, & Lambert, 2016).

If we want our students to access learning, we must help them return to regulation.

That can be as simple as:

• A few minutes of stretching or slow movement after lunch.

• Starting each lesson with a grounding breath.

• Using a soft signal (like a chime or light cue) to transition rather than abrupt commands.

Regulation isn’t a “break from learning.” It’s the bridge to it.

Boundaries That Hold, Not Harm

Compassionate teaching does not mean permissive teaching. It means holding boundaries with empathy and clarity.

What this might sound like:

• “I see you’re upset. I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

• “You don’t have to agree with the rule to follow it.”

• “This behaviour isn’t okay—but I still care about you.”

Clear boundaries provide the safety many students crave, especially those who have experienced trauma or instability.

One powerful boundary-setting shift? Using the word with instead of to.

• “Let’s figure this out together.”

• “We can solve this—what do you need from me?”

• “Here’s the plan. I’ll walk with you.”

  
  

Creating Micro-Moments of Connection

You don’t need a whole afternoon of circle time to build connection (though that’s lovely when possible). Tiny interactions, repeated with care, build relationship slowly and sustainably.

Try:

• Greeting every student by name, even on busy mornings.

• Noticing one thing they’ve done well each day—and telling them.

• Asking a quiet student about their weekend, without expecting them to answer.

• Leaving a sticky note of encouragement on a desk.

In these micro-moments, we send a clear message: You matter here.

Compassionate Routines, Not Overhauls

Classroom routines can either soothe or stress. When built with care, they act as containers that reduce anxiety and create predictability.

Consider these low-effort, high-impact adjustments:

• A calming visual schedule—even a handwritten one on the board.

• “Soft starts” to the day—colouring, puzzles, quiet reading.

• A class feelings check-in using colours, emojis, or gestures.

• A consistent end-of-day routine that includes gratitude or reflection.

These aren’t about adding more. They’re about doing what you already do—but with intention and warmth.

Tending to Your Emotional Labour

Let’s name the truth: this work is emotionally expensive. You give so much. And while systemic change is essential, many teachers are holding the gap in the meantime.

So what supports you?

• A five-minute decompression in your car before heading home.

• A no-teaching-talk rule at dinner with loved ones.

• A journal where you write one thing each day that you did well.

• Saying no when you need to.

You do not have to fix everything. You do not have to be everything. You are allowed to care deeply and still protect your energy.

Compassion as a Collective Practice

You’re not alone in this.

Compassion grows when we share it—among colleagues, in whispered “me too’s” in the staffroom, in supportive professional communities online or off. Create or find a circle of educators who reflect your values. Talk about what’s working. Share ideas. Hold space for the hard days.

Sometimes, the most compassionate thing we can do is remind each other that we’re doing our best.

Moving Forward

Compassionate teaching is not a trend. It’s a return—to what we know in our hearts: that children thrive in connection, that learning grows in safety, and that teachers are not machines but human beings.

You don’t need permission to teach this way. You don’t need perfect conditions. You just need to start where you are, with what you have, and with the heart that brought you here in the first place.

May you find softness in your systems. Stillness in your days. And strength in knowing you’re not alone. Because even without a full system overhaul, your mindful, compassionate teaching matters. Deeply.

Let’s walk gently, together.

Liz 💛

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Reference

McLaughlin, K. A., Sheridan, M. A., & Lambert, H. K. (2016). Childhood adversity and neural development: Deprivation and threat as distinct dimensions of early experience. Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews, 47, 578–591. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neubiorev.2015.01.006