For most parents of neurodivergent children, the school day is a study in contrasts: a child who holds it together for six hours in a classroom, then dissolves into tears, or worse, within minutes of walking through the front door. Teachers report a calm, capable student. Parents describe a meltdown factory. Both are telling the truth.
Dr. Emily King, a licensed psychologist and former school psychologist, says the gap comes down to one word: capacity. Kids who mask, self-manage, or simply muscle through a demanding day are drawing on a finite reserve of emotional and cognitive energy, and by 4:30 in the afternoon, that reserve is often gone.
King ties this to how skills become automated. Getting dressed, for most kids, requires no thought — they can do it even sick or exhausted. For a child whose nervous system hasn’t fully mastered a skill, that same task still demands active effort, which means it disappears the moment the child is depleted. Homework works the same way. A child might sail through math problems at 9 a.m., rested and supported, and be genuinely unable to do the same work at 4 p.m.
That reframes a familiar and painful narrative: the idea that a child who’s fine at school must be dealing with a parenting problem at home. King pushes back on that framing directly. Differences between settings usually point to differences in time of day, structure, or the sheer energy a setting demands, not to who is doing something wrong. Her advice for both parents and teachers is to trade judgment for curiosity: instead of asking what the other adult is doing differently, ask what’s different about the environment itself.
That same shift away from blame shapes how King thinks about learning differences more broadly. Special education, she argues, was built the same way the medical system was: diagnose the problem, apply the intervention, expect a fix. That model works reasonably well for an isolated skill deficit. It works far less well for complex neurodevelopment, which tends to move in waves. A child who regresses after a move, a lost pet, or a divorce isn’t failing to progress, their energy is going toward tolerating change, the same way anyone’s would.
Pacing matters just as much as patience, King says. Slowing down helps kids who process more slowly, but plenty of neurodivergent kids, including those who are gifted, have ADHD, or are twice exceptional, need the opposite: material that moves fast enough to hold their attention, or they disengage and behavior problems follow.
None of it points to a single fix, because there isn’t one. It points to something more useful: a framework for staying curious about what a child’s behavior, in this moment, in this setting, might actually be communicating.