When a Student Walks Out
A moment that revealed why trauma-informed practices matter
It was one of those perfect spring days—70 degrees, clear skies, birdsong. Winter was finally retreating.
And I was inside with fifty high school students.
A media literacy workshop. Right after lunch.
You can picture it. That buzz of post-lunch sluggishness. Sunlight taunting us through the windows. Students half-listening, half-daydreaming. Honestly, I felt it too.
Still, we were managing. I kept the group mostly engaged, deflecting side comments and sarcastic asides like a pro. I was just about to show a clip from a popular medical drama—one I knew they'd watched on repeat.
The scene: EMTs racing to the rescue. Sirens. Urgency. Usually a crowd-pleaser.
But this time, something shifted.
One student—quiet, usually reserved—let out a long sigh. Then another. Then louder. I assumed boredom, maybe irritation.
Until she calmly packed up her things and walked out.
The classroom teacher looked startled. The administrator overseeing the workshop was visibly tense. This was supposed to spark deep discussion, not send students fleeing.
I gently stopped the teacher from following.
“Maybe she’s not being disruptive,” I said. “Maybe it’s self-preservation.”
Why Trauma-Informed Care Matters
We’re living in an era of collective strain.
Political trauma. Generational divide. Racial violence. Climate disasters. Post-COVID-19 adjustments. Daily headlines remind us that distress isn’t rare—it’s routine.
According to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, 60% of men and 50% of women will experience at least one traumatic event in their lifetime. Around 6% will develop PTSD at some point.1
But trauma doesn’t always look like a diagnosis.
It lives in childhood instability. Economic insecurity. Harassment. Bias. Social division. And in everyday moments—like a TV clip that hits too close to home.
Trauma-informed care isn’t just for therapy rooms. It’s a way of showing up—with more awareness, more care, and more curiosity—wherever people gather.
What It Looks Like in Practice
For Individuals
Someone pulling away in conversation might not be rude—they might be overwhelmed. Trauma-informed individuals slow down, stay present, and avoid taking things personally.
For Educators
A student refusing to participate might be protecting themselves, not challenging authority. Trauma-informed educators offer choices, create routine, and respond with flexibility, not force.
For Caregivers and Clinicians
When a patient flinches or freezes, it may be from past harm—not current defiance. Trauma-informed care means asking permission, explaining steps, and creating space for autonomy.
For Designers and Media-Makers
A film scene or ad that’s thrilling for some may retraumatize others. Trauma-informed creatives include content warnings, engage lived experience, and center emotional responsibility over shock value.
For Workplaces and Institutions
An employee missing deadlines might be coping with invisible stressors. Trauma-informed workplaces build support systems, check in privately, and shift from blame to curiosity.
The Core Principles of Trauma-Informed Practice
Adapted from foundational research in psychology and social work2, these principles help create emotionally safe, healing-centered spaces:
Prioritize safety. Emotional and physical safety is the foundation.
Build trust. Be consistent, clear, and transparent.
Empower. Let people make choices. Respect their voice.
Collaborate. Include them in decisions, not just outcomes.
Practice cultural humility. Be aware of difference and power.
Recognize signs. Distress doesn’t always speak clearly—look closely.
Avoid triggers. Reduce sensory and emotional cues that retraumatize.
Be predictable. Trauma often disrupts routine. Restore it.
Respond with care. Listen with attention. Communicate with calm.
Support recovery. Reflect back people’s strengths. Name their resilience.
Trauma-informed care is not a checklist. It’s a stance.
A way of being—especially when tension, confusion, or behavior might otherwise be misunderstood.
A Tool You Can Use: The Sensory-Based Self-Care Kit
During my clinical days, I designed a sensory toolkit to support people navigating trauma—clients, caregivers, educators, frontline workers.
Each item grounds. Calms. Helps the nervous system reset.
What’s Inside:
A journal and pen
A soft stuffed animal or tactile object
Headphones or earbuds
A playlist of comfort (songs, podcasts, shows)
Essential oils or lightly scented sprays
Photos of loved ones and positive notes
Fidget toys, smooth stones, or stress balls
Putty or playdough
Coloring books or a favorite novel
Tea bags or a small comfort snack
Practical items: tissues, eye mask, cozy socks
Whether you're packing a kit for yourself, a loved one, or your team—it’s a simple, powerful reminder that care can be tactile. Grounding. Personal.
And that we all need tools to stay present when the world feels too much.
Final Thought
That student? She came back later. Quietly. Sat near the back.
The teacher gave her space. So did I.
We don’t always need to know the “why” in the moment. But if we stay open to the possibility that someone is protecting themselves—not acting out—we hold the door open for trust.
And trust is where healing begins.
U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs. (n.d.). How common is PTSD in adults? Retrieved from https://www.ptsd.va.gov/understand/common/common_adults.asp
Butler, Lisa D., Filomena M. Critelli, and Elaine S. Rinfrette. "Trauma-informed care and mental health." Directions in Psychiatry 31.3 (2011): 197–212.