Finding the right school for our highly sensitive child, and how we supported their midyear transition with connection, play, and regulation.

Starting school is a milestone for any child — but when you’re raising a highly sensitive child, the stakes feel higher. You’re not just choosing a place of education. You’re choosing a space that will become a second home, a nervous system co-regulator, and an extension of your child’s emotional world.

For us, the decision was made even more complex because our child would be starting school midyear. There’s something uniquely vulnerable about joining a classroom that’s already in full swing — routines have been established, friendships formed. As parents, we held both the excitement of this new beginning and the weight of getting it right.

Here’s how we approached choosing a school for our highly sensitive child — and how we supported the transition in a way that honoured who they are.

What We Were Really Looking For

When we first started looking at schools, we quickly realised that our priorities looked a little different from other families. It wasn’t about prestige or test scores. It was about emotional safety. About connection. About co-regulation.

We were looking for a place where sensitivity wasn’t viewed as a problem to “toughen up” — but as a strength to be supported.

These were our non-negotiables: 

🌱 Small class sizes

We found a classroom of just ten children — and here’s the magic — they were all starting midyear. That sense of “we’re all new here” gave our child an instant sense of belonging and reduced the social overwhelm that can come with being the odd one out.

🌿 Indoor-outdoor classrooms

For a highly sensitive child, traditional, rigid classroom settings can be overwhelming. The school we chose offered fluid indoor-outdoor learning, which supported sensory regulation and gave our child the freedom to move, breathe, and recalibrate when needed.

💛 Gentle, attuned staff

Every classroom had both a lead teacher and support staff. But what stood out the most wasn’t the staffing ratio — it was the calmness of the adults. These were emotionally available, grounded humans who understood regulation, connection, and the power of soft eyes. 

🗣️ Collaborative conversations

From our very first meeting, we were asked not just about our child, but about how we were feeling about the transition. We were met with warmth, curiosity, and a genuine desire to partner with us. It was clear this was a place that valued relationships — not just with the children, but with their parents, too.

How We Supported the Transition

Finding the right school was only the first part. Helping our child feel safe in this new environment — especially starting midyear — took careful thought, patience, and a whole lot of play.

Here’s what helped us ease the transition: 

1. We introduced the school gently

Before their first day, we visited the school several times — not just for formal tours, but to let our child play in the yard, peek into classrooms, and meet the teachers in a low-pressure way. This helped reduce the “shock factor” and allowed them to build familiarity at their own pace.

2. We used play as a bridge

At home, we played “starting school” games — setting up a mini classroom with toys, doing pretend drop-offs, and letting our child be both the teacher and the student. This wasn’t about rehearsing perfect behaviour. It was about giving them the opportunity to process what was coming through imaginative play.

We also created a school box together — with their lunch box, uniform, and a toy who would go through it all with them. This playful scaffolding helped externalise their fears and turn something unknown into something known.

3. We focused on regulation, not readiness

We didn’t spend time drilling the alphabet or packing flashcards. Instead, we built a regulation kit: 

• Noise-cancelling headphones
• A small sensory toy
• A visual schedule with simple images
• A goodbye ritual: a special rock in their pocket and a kiss in their palm

We knew that no amount of academic readiness would matter if their nervous system wasn’t supported. 

4. We prioritised connection before correction

 After-school decompression became sacred in our house. Instead of asking 100 questions at pick-up, we simply said, “I missed you today. I’m so glad you’re home.”

We created a calm, sensory-friendly after-school rhythm:

• Time in a cubby or under a blanket fort
• A crunchy snack and water
• Movement — a swing, trampoline, or a walk in nature
• Music or silence, depending on their needs

We held space for their meltdowns, their silence, their joy. We remembered that holding it together at school often meant falling apart when they got home. And we made that not just okay, but welcomed.

You’re not overthinking it.

You’re not being too sensitive.

You’re doing what all good parents do — tuning in to the unique needs of your child and finding a path that honours their sensitivity instead of pushing them to hide it.

Every highly sensitive child deserves a school environment that understands nervous system safety, celebrates emotional depth, and embraces play and regulation as essential parts of learning.

That kind of environment might not always be the flashiest or the most “high-achieving” on paper — but for your child, it will be everything. 

If you’re navigating the decision of which school is right for your sensitive or neurodivergent child — I see you. I know how heavy this can feel, especially when the mainstream path doesn’t quite fit.

My hope in sharing our story is that it gives you language, permission, and maybe a sense of possibility.

💬 If you’ve already walked this road, what helped you decide? What made you feel confident in your choice? I’d love to hear in the comments below.

You’re not alone in this — and your child is so lucky to have you.