School for School Counselors Podcast

Defiance vs. Dysregulation: The Split-Second Call That Changes Everything

• School for School Counselors • Episode 170

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The radio call comes in. A student’s refusing to move, and suddenly, everyone’s looking at you to fix it.

Here’s what nobody ever told us in grad school: defiance and dysregulation can look the same from the outside, but they require completely different responses.

This episode gives you a clear, evidence-based way to figure out the difference, match the right tool to the right circumstance, and keep your cool when the pressure’s on.


Join for the masterclass Oct 19: schoolforschoolcounselors.com/mastermind


References

Corrigan, F. M., Fisher, J. J., & Nutt, D. J. (2011). Autonomic dysregulation and the window of tolerance model of the effects of complex emotional trauma. Journal of Psychopharmacology, 25(1), 17-25.

Lebowitz, E. R., Panza, K. E., & Bloch, M. H. (2016). Family accommodation in obsessive-compulsive and anxiety disorders: A five-year update. Expert Review of Neurotherapeutics, 16(1), 45-53.

Shahan, T. A. (2022). Explaining extinction and relapse. Journal of the Experimental Analysis of Behavior, 117(3), 360-375. 

Siegel, D. J. (2012). The developing mind: How relationships and the brain interact to shape who we are (2nd ed.). Guilford Press.

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All names, stories, and case studies in this episode are fictionalized composites drawn from real-world circumstances. Any resemblance to actual students, families, or school personnel is coincidental. Details have been altered to protect privacy.

SPEAKER_00:

Your walkie goes off. Can you come to the cafeteria? He's refusing to go to class. Yeah, that's all the information you get. Hey school counselor, welcome back. In this episode, we're tackling the split-second decision that changes everything. Is it defiance or dysregulation? They look identical. Same refusal, same tone, same slammed doors. They need completely opposite responses. Get it wrong, and you risk re-traumatizing a student who's already struggling. Get it right, and you become the advocate they so desperately need. And here's the part nobody wants to say out loud. We've been getting this wrong. A lot. So if you're ready for some straight talk, my friend, a little clarity and maybe a touch of rebellion. You are in the right place. I'm Steph Johnson, and this is the School for School Counselors podcast. So that radio call just came through. You're halfway through an email, but that doesn't matter now. You grab your keys and you start walking down the hallway. Your heart rate picks up with every step. And your mind's already running through the possibilities. Is he angry? Scared? Is he playing to an audience? The hallway smells like industrial cleaner and chicken nuggets. You know that smell. You push through the cafeteria doors, and everyone turns to look at you. The teacher's pacing near the vending machines, her arms crossed. The students at a corner table staring at the floor, hood up. The lunch aids have cleared the area, but there are still eyes everywhere. Other students pretending not to watch. A parent volunteer frozen near the door, probably texting someone about the situation. The teacher spots you and they sigh, half out of relief, half out of frustration, and they walk over with their voice low but urgent. He just shut down, won't talk, won't move. I tried everything. And now every eye in that cafeteria is on you. You're the school counselor. And the unspoken expectation hangs in the air like humidity before a storm. Fix it. You've got maybe 10 seconds to decide your first move. Do you approach him directly or give him space? Soft voice or firm tone. Ask questions or make statements. Every choice sends a message to him, to the teacher watching, and to the students pretending not to listen. And here's the thing: you could get this completely wrong. Come in too soft and you might reinforce avoidance when he actually needs to learn accountability. Come in too firm and you might punish a nervous system that's already in full fight or flight mode. You'll push him further into shutdown, or worse, into an explosion. So what do you do? Here's what nobody told us in grad school. They taught us ASCA standards, they taught us how to write SMART goals, they taught us ethics and statistics and crisis intervention theory. But nobody taught us how to walk into a cafeteria full of 200 people and decode a standoff in 10 seconds. Nobody prepared us for the fact that our response in this moment could either help the student trust adults again or teach him that no one really understands what's happening inside him. So we learn through trial and error, through hallway whispers, through that one workshop we went to three years ago, or through sheer instinct. And most of the time, we do okay. But okay isn't enough anymore. Because the students who land in these moments are the ones who've already been misread over and over. They're the ones who've been punished for panic attacks and coddled when they needed boundaries. And when we get it wrong, when we misread the state they're in, we don't just make a professional misstep. We hurt kids. When you treat dysregulation like defiance, you add consequences to crisis. You essentially tell a child in survival mode that their nervous system's distress signals are a behavioral choice. You teach them that when they're overwhelmed, adults respond with pressure instead of safety. So next time they won't come to you, they'll run, or worse, they'll shut down so completely that nobody can reach them at all. That's the suspension pipeline. And that's how we lose kids in schools. But when you treat defiance like dysregulation, you remove the very boundaries that teach responsibility. You teach that avoidance works and accountability doesn't apply. You rob that student of the chance to learn frustration tolerance. And the reality that sometimes we do hard things even when we don't want to. Let me give you an example. Marcus, eighth grader, charming kid, funny and incredibly perceptive. During advisory, he'd wait until the teacher started a lesson, and then you'd see it. His whole demeanor would shift. He'd start fidgeting, looking down, and then his hand would go up. Miss Rodriguez, I'm feeling really anxious today. Can I go to the counseling office? And his voice would shake a little. He'd look down, fidgeting with his pencil. All the classic anxiety signals. At first his counselor honored that. Of course she did. It takes courage to name those feelings, right? And that's what we want students to do. But then she started noticing something. He only felt anxious during advisory. Never during PE, never during lunch, never during the periods where he got to choose a seat or work with friends. And when he got to the counseling office, he wasn't dysregulated. He was chatting, joking. Hey Miss Chen, can I help you organize the fidget bin? Suddenly very interested in color-coding the stress balls by size. No shaky voice, no distress, just fine. Meanwhile, his advisory teacher is watching 28 other kids and wondering why Marcus gets to leave whenever he wants. And the message to the entire class is crystal clear. Say the magic words, show the right signals, and you're out. Marcus didn't need a break from anxiety. Marcus needed an adult who could see through the performance and say, I hear you, and I also know that you can handle this. He needed to learn that discomfort isn't danger, that anxiety doesn't always mean exit. So his counselor tried something different. Next time Marcus asked to leave, she said, I hear you're anxious. And I also know you can handle this. Let's try five more minutes and then check in. And you know what? He stayed. And after a few weeks of this, the requests stopped. By treating his strategic avoidance like dysregulation initially, we'd been denying him the growth opportunity he actually needed. And here's what nobody talks about. Research shows that students who are repeatedly removed from challenging situations actually become more anxious, not less. Their window of tolerance shrinks. We think we're giving them a break, but we're actually teaching their brain that the world is even more dangerous than they thought. Those kinds of errors hurt the very kids we're trying to protect. So, how do you tell the difference? Let's go back to that cafeteria. You're standing there 10 feet away, everyone's watching, and here's what you do: you start gathering data. And I'm gonna show you exactly how I do this, like you're inside my head as I'm assessing. First, I look at his breathing. It's rapid, shallow. His chest is moving fast. Okay, that's physiological sign number one, but I don't lock in my read just yet. I need more data. I move a little closer. His hands are trembling slightly where they're gripping his knees. That's physiological sign number two. Now I'm leaning toward dysregulation, but here's what would change my mind. I glance around. Are there any peers nearby? Is there an audience? No, the lunch aids clear the area, but his behavior hasn't changed. He's still in it, even though no one's watching. If this were defiance, he'd have adjusted it by now. The performance needs an audience, so this isn't that. I catch a glimpse of his face under the hood. His eyes aren't defiant. They're sort of glassy, unfocused. The teacher said he just shut down, won't talk. So I try. I keep my voice gentle. Hey, what's going on? He whispers back, barely audible. I don't know. And I hear the confusion in his voice. That's it. That's the tell. That's not I don't want to tell you. That's I genuinely cannot access language right now. This is dysregulation. Let me break down what I just did because this is the framework. There are two categories of cues. And you're not looking for all of them. You're looking for the two or three that never lie. If it's dysregulation, here's what matters most. One, the physiological signs you can see. Rapid breathing, flushed face, shaking, sweating. The body is in fight or flight. You can see the nervous system activation. And two, language goes offline. You ask them a question and they can't answer. Not won't, can't. They might whisper, I don't know, with genuine confusion. They might repeat what you say. Or they might go completely silent. Not defiant silence, but empty silence. And here's the one that seals it. The behavior continues even when there's no audience and no reward. You ignore them, walk away, remove all attention, and the reaction doesn't change. They're not performing, they're surviving. Now, on the other hand, defiance has two tells that give it away every time. One, the behavior escalates when you engage. You start talking, redirecting, setting a boundary, and the behavior intensifies. Your attention is fuel. And two, it stops abruptly when they get what they want. You say, fine, you can take a break, and suddenly they're fine. If the crisis ends when they get what they want, it wasn't a crisis. Now let me show you what that looks like in real situations. I will never forget a fourth grader that I worked with. I'll call him Jordan. The teacher would ask him to start the work and he'd refuse. Arms crossed, head down, wouldn't respond to questions, and it looked like classic defiance. Deliberate non-compliance, testing limits. But when I got closer, I noticed something. His eyes weren't making contact because he was challenging authority. They'd gone classy. Like he was looking through me and not at me. And he'd started this low humming sound under his breath. I don't even think he was conscious of it. It was just this steady hum. So I asked him, Jordan, what's going on? And he whispered, What's going on? Echolalia. He was repeating my words back to me. Check the signals. Physiological signs? Yes. Glassy eyes, self-soothing hum. Language offline? Absolutely. He couldn't even access his own words. That wasn't defiance. That was a shutdown. His brain had left the conversation, and the more I pushed, the further away he went. So I stopped pushing. I pulled up a chair, not too close, just near. I didn't ask questions. I didn't make demands. I just sat there. And that's what co-regulation actually looks like. I didn't try to teach him anything in that moment. I was just bringing my regulated nervous system into proximity with his. And after a few minutes, I could see it. His breathing started to slow, the humming stopped, and his shoulders dropped. And eventually he looked up at me and he said, so quietly, I'm okay now. Meanwhile, the teacher's at her desk probably wondering if I'm conducting a meditation session or if I'm actually counseling. If I'd kept pushing consequences and demands in that moment, I would have taught him that adults are not safe when he's overwhelmed. Co-regulation is the tool, but knowing when to use it versus when it will backfire is the skill. And that's exactly what we practice together in the mastermind. More on that in a little bit. But let's compare Jordan to Mia, fifth grader. She'd come to my office looking genuinely distressed, fidgeting, wringing her hands, sometimes they were even tears. Miss Johnson, I need to call my mom. I don't feel good. My stomach hurts. And she looked anxious. She wouldn't make eye contact, her voice was shaking, and all the signals said dysregulation. So at first I let her call home because that's what we do, right? We honor their feelings, we validate their distress, but then I started noticing something. She never felt sick during art or recess or on the days when there was a substitute in the class was watching a movie. Only during classes when there was a test or a challenging assignment or partner work that she didn't want to do. And when I finally said very gently but firmly, Mia, I hear you, and we'll check in after class to see how you're feeling. But right now, you're staying. You know what happened? She didn't melt down. She rolled her eyes, she huffed at me. She did that preteen, uh, fine that could win an Oscar. And then she walked back to her desk and she opened her test booklet. Ten minutes later, she was still fine. No tears, no stomachache, and it turned out she could do it after all. Shocking. The so-called crisis ended when she realized she wasn't getting out of it. And that tells you everything. So in both situations, we had the same word, refusal, but completely different states. And if you responded the same way to both of them, you'd fail one of them. Now, the initial read is just your hypothesis. You don't lock it in during the crisis, you confirm it afterward, once the situation is under control. There are three questions you ask yourself, and yes, the sequence of these questions matters. Okay. Question one. Did the student recover relatively quickly and engage in problem solving? If the answer is yes, if they bounced back fast, if they can now talk about what happened and what to do differently, that's pointing toward defiance. Their brain was online the whole time. If the answer is no, if they're still exhausted, still struggling to articulate, still emotionally raw, that's dysregulation. The nervous system is still coming back online. Question two. Does the student show remorse or confusion about their actions? Now, be careful here because this is where a lot of folks get tripped up. Some students have learned that remorse is the magic key. They cry, they apologize, they say all the right things, and the adults back off. So you need to ask: is this the same remorse I heard last week? Does the behavior change or just the apology? If there's genuine confusion, if they truly don't understand what happened or why they reacted that way, that's more likely dysregulation. If it's performative remorse followed by the same behavior next week, that's strategy. Question three. Was this a repeated pattern under similar triggers? This is the one that tells you almost everything. Does the same situation trigger the same response week after week, month after month? Does it happen in multiple contexts or just in specific ones? A student who melts down in math class every single Tuesday during tests, but never during any other subjects, is not showing random dysregulation. That's a learned response to a specific trigger. They might genuinely feel anxious. I'm not saying they're faking the emotion, but the pattern tells you that this isn't a nervous system that's constantly overwhelmed. It's a nervous system that's learned. This situation is too much, and escape is the answer. That student needs something different than the student whose nervous system is in overdrive all day, every day across all contexts. The pattern tells the truth every single time. Okay, pause. I know I just gave you a lot. Let me show you what this actually looks like when it all comes together. Quick scenario: a student refuses to present their project in front of the class. They put their head down and won't respond when the teacher calls on them, so the teacher sends them to you. In your office, they're fidgeting, they won't make eye contact with you, and they just keep saying, I can't do it, I just can't. Initial read could go either way. So you start asking the confirmation questions. Did they recover quickly? Nope. They're still visibly anxious 20 minutes later. Do they show confusion or remorse? Yes. They say, I don't know why I get like this. I hate that I do this. Is it a pattern? Yes. You check with their teachers, and it happens every time there's a presentation. But it also happens with partner work and reading aloud in pretty much any situation where they're in the spotlight. That's not strategic avoidance. That's social anxiety. This student needs graduated exposure, coping skills, maybe a 504 plan, not consequences for so-called refusal. You see how the questions guide you? And so at this point, I need to tell you something that's going to change the way you see about 30% of your crisis calls. There are four big mistakes I see even experienced counselors make. And I know this because I'm in consultation with school counselors each and every week. I'm going to walk you through these four because once you see them, you can't unsee them. Mistake number one, assuming that remorse always means dysregulation. I just told you about this, but it is so common, I'm going to say it again. A student melts down, gets sent to your office, and within minutes they're crying and apologizing. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that. I feel terrible. It looks like dysregulation. The emotion is real and the remorse seems genuine. But ask yourself, is this the same apology I heard last Tuesday? And the Tuesday before that? Does the behavior actually change? Or do I just get really good apologies? Some students, especially the smart, perceptive ones, have learned that remorse is how you unlock adult forgiveness. The real tell isn't do they feel bad? It's does the pattern change? Mistake number two, thinking that quiet withdrawal is always shutdown. A student refuses to work, puts their head down, won't engage, they look checked out, maybe even dissociated. Easy call, right? Dysregulation. Classic shutdown. But watch what happens when you say, okay, you can take come take a break in the counseling office. Do they perk up immediately? Are they suddenly able to chat, make eye contact, joke around, ask what digits you have? Because true shutdown doesn't flip off like a light switch the moment the demands are removed. If that dysregulation disappears the instant they get what they want, you're looking at strategic avoidance, not nervous system overload. Mistake number three, missing the audience. This one is big. A student escalates. They're yelling dramatic, big emotions. It feels like dysregulation because it's so intense. But look around. Who's watching? Is this happening in the hallway between classes when there's an audience of peers? Does it happen in front of the class but never one-on-one in your office? Does the behavior intensify when other students are nearby? Real dysregulation happens regardless of who's watching. If the behavior only shows up when there are witnesses, or if it gets bigger when adults engage and other kids can see, the audience is the point. That's not survival mode. That's typically social strategy. And mistake number four, ignoring the context pattern. A student has a complete meltdown in math class. Screaming, tears can't be consoled, and all the physiological signs are there. Shaking, rapid breathing, can't articulate what's wrong. You look at that moment and you think dysregulation. This kid needs co-regulation and a break. But then you check with their other teachers. Oh yeah, this happens every time there's a test in math like clockwork. But she's fine and class never had a problem. Here's what you're actually seeing. Yes, the nervous system is activated. Yes, the distress is real. I'm not saying she's faking it. But it's not random dysregulation. It's an anxiety response to a specific predictable trigger. And every time you remove her when it happens, you teach her nervous system math tests are too dangerous to face. Escape is the answer. This student doesn't need endless co-regulation breaks. She needs anxiety coping skills and gradual exposure to the trigger. She needs to learn that discomfort isn't danger and that she can handle hard things. The pattern tells you everything. Same trigger, same response across time in a specific context is not dysregulation. That's learned avoidance with a real physiological component. Don't just look at the moment. Look at the pattern. Look at what happens before, during, and after. Look at who's watching. And look at whether the response changes based on consequences or audience. That's how you avoid these traps. And look, I'll be honest, I still have moments when I stand there and think, I have no idea which lane this is. The framework does not make you suddenly omniscient, right? It makes you systematic. It gives you a way to gather data when your gut really isn't sure. Now, some of you are thinking, that sounds great, but I 100% know my admin won't back me up. Or my teachers think trauma-informed means no consequences. That's real, right? I know it is. And that's exactly why we practice the language scripts in my mastermind. How to frame this in a way that gets buy-in instead of pushback. Because you can have the best framework in the world, but if you can't get your campus on board, you're working uphill alone. So let's go back to that cafeteria one final time. You're standing there, the students at the corner table, hood up, staring at the floor, everyone's watching, the teacher's waiting for you to do something. But this time you know exactly what you're looking at. You've gathered your data, you checked the signals, you've made your read. Rapid breathing, trembling hands, glassy eyes, can't verbalize, no audience, but the behavior continues. This is dysregulation. So you don't demand. You don't redirect. You don't launch into problem solving or pestering them with questions. You pull up a chair and you sit and you breathe slowly. You bring your regulated nervous system into proximity with his and you wait. After a few minutes, you see it. His breathing starts to slow. His shoulders drop just slightly. The tension in his hands releases. He looks up, checks if it's safe, and you say, Hey, you're alright, take your time. That student just learned something critical. When his nervous system floods, there's an adult who can help him come back. He's not alone in it. He's not too much, and he's not broken. That's what it looks like to read them right. So here's what I've given you today. The cues to look for, the confirmation questions, the common mistakes to avoid. You can use this framework immediately. But here's where most school counselors get stuck. The gray zones. What do you do when a student shows both sets of signals? When your read conflicts with the teachers? When you realize 30 seconds in that you chose wrong and you need to pivot without losing trust? Or what about the teacher consultation? How do you explain this to a teacher who thinks you're too lenient? What exact language changes how they see behavior? Or what about intervention menus? What specific strategies fit into the school counseling world? When do things like check-in, check-out, or behaviorism help versus harm? That's what we're going to practice together in our Schocktober Behavior Masterclass on October 19th inside the School for School Counselors mastermind. And here's specifically what that looks like. First, we practice real campus scenarios so that when you're standing in that cafeteria and your heart's racing, your bra when you're standing in that cafeteria and your heart's racing, your brain doesn't freeze because you've been here before. You know what to look for because you practiced. Secondly, we script teacher consultations so that teachers start responding differently before the crisis even reaches you. They become your partners instead of your obstacles. And third, we troubleshoot the gray zones so that you stop replaying interactions at 2 a.m. wondering if you made it worse. You've been there. I know you have because so have I. Because here's what happens if you don't learn this. Five years from now, you're still getting those radio calls, still feeling your stomach drop, still replaying crises in your head, wondering if you got it right. Still watching kids get suspended for behaviors that were actually cries for help. Still carrying the weight of wondering whether you're helping or hurting. Or you can learn this now. Head to schoolforschoolcounselors.com slash mastermind to join us before October 19th. Because advocacy in school counseling isn't about fixing kids, it's about reading them right. Here's what I want you to do tomorrow. When you get a crisis call and you We'll get one. Before you even walk in the room, take three breaths. And ask yourself, what am I about to look for? Just that. Make it intentional instead of reactive. Because that's where this starts. All right, so remember how I started this episode? He's refusing to go back to class, and that was all the information that you get. And you know that's how it goes down. But now you know what to look for. Now you know what questions to ask. You walked in that cafeteria not knowing what you were looking at. Now you can read the room. You can read the student and you can make the call. And that student is going to get what they need. Not because you're the perfect school counselor, but because you're willing to look closer. I'll be back soon with another episode of the School for School Counselors podcast. In the meantime, keep trusting your instincts. You know more than you think you do. And those hard moments, the ones that make your heart race and your hands shake, those are the ones that are teaching you how to be the advocate your campus needs. You've got this. Take care.

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