You pass a teenager on the street — hoodie up, baggy tracksuit bottoms, earphones in, a confident swagger in their step.

It’s easy to make assumptions: troublemaker, disrespectful, lazy. These snap judgments are common — and they’re exactly why this conversation is so important.

Because what you see isn't always the full story. What if they’re navigating ADHD, severe anxiety, or grief they’ve never been taught how to talk about?

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At our Alternative Education Program, we work with some of the most vulnerable young people in the system. Many have been excluded from mainstream education, misunderstood by teachers, peers and society. Not because a lack of ability, but because the correct support they truly need has never been put in place. They might not “look” like they have additional needs. They might be streetwise and confident young people but yet, beneath that surface, most are navigating incredibly complex realities.

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Not All Needs Are Visible

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When someone uses a wheelchair or has a visible physical disability, society knows to be more understanding. But what about a young person with high-functioning autism who gets overwhelmed by noise and shouts out in frustration? What about a teen with ADHD who can’t sit still or follow complex instructions under pressure?

Many of the students who walk through our doors have already been excluded — not just from classrooms, but from compassion.

We’re told “they should know better” or “they can’t behave like this here”. The reality is, hidden needs don’t disappear just because a person can mask them.

They may have autism, ADHD, PTSD, or anxiety. They may be navigating trauma, grief, or the effects of constant instability. But because they speak loudly, dress confidently, or appear self-reliant, their needs are often dismissed or overlooked. You don’t always see the panic attacks, the emotional dysregulation, the effort it took just to get out of bed and come to school that day. We work with these young people every day, and they are some of the bravest people we know.

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The Uncomfortable Truth

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Sometimes our students swear. Sometimes they’re loud. Sometimes they walk out of a classroom when things get too much.

Does this mean they’re badly behaved? Or could it mean they’re overwhelmed, scared, emotionally exhausted, and don’t yet have the tools to communicate differently?

The uncomfortable truth in our society is that if a student with a visible physical or learning disability lashed out, many would react with compassion. But if a high functioning teenager in a hoodie does the same, they’re labelled aggressive or rude.

Empathy shouldn’t be conditional. Inclusion means showing up for everyone, not just those who fit a certain image.

Many of our students live with ongoing mental health challenges, trauma, or neurological differences. Stress, anxiety, emotional dysregulation, PTSD — these are not “just” mental health issues. For many young people, they are daily realities that impact their ability to learn, engage, and feel safe. These are real needs, that require real support.

The challenge then, is whether we are creating environments that truly support hidden disabilities or merely accommodating the ones we can see.

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It’s Not Defiance, It’s Distress

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When a young person swears, shuts down, or walks out of a room, it’s often interpreted as defiance or disrespect, but behaviour is rarely that straightforward. Many of our students are trying to navigate overwhelming emotions, sensory overload, or deep-rooted anxiety. Some are still learning to trust adults again, or some have never been in an environment where they felt safe enough to let their guard down.

What may be perceived as challenging behaviour is often distress. What looks like resistance is often self-protection shaped by past experiences.

Our job is not to punish young people for how they express their struggles, but to understand the context behind their actions, and support them with patience, consistency and care.

So, What Can We Do?

If you’re a teacher, a parent, a policymaker, or just a fellow human walking past a young person in a hoodie — here’s what we invite you to do:

Pause your judgement > take a breath before reacting; remember you might be seeing the symptom, not the story.

Ask yourself: “Could there be more going on here than I can see right now?”

Look for the cause, not just the behaviour > ask “What happened?” instead of “What’s wrong with you?” and listen without interruption.

Ask them: “Can you help me understand what was happening for you just then?”

Offer understanding before critique > acknowledge the difficulty they’re facing before discussing alternative ways to respond.

Ask them: “That sounded like it was really tough for you — what would help you manage it differently next time?”

Create emotional as well as physical safety > ensure there’s a calm space or trusted adult they can access when things feel overwhelming.

Ask yourself: “Have I given them somewhere or someone that feels safe when emotions run high?”

We’re not here to excuse challenging behaviour — we’re here to explain it. To create a world where young people with complex needs don’t get punished for expressing pain in the only way they know how.