First, find your footing
Regulation comes before skills. I return to this every day with families and with professionals. We bring plans and good materials. We script the steps. Yet if a child is dysregulated, the nervous system is already occupied with a different job. It is searching for safety. Instruction asks for curiosity and a small willingness to risk. A body that does not feel safe cannot accept that invitation. So we start where regulation lives.
When I say regulation, I mean readiness. Not silence. Not stillness. Readiness shows up in slower breathing, softer shoulders, a face that is available for connection, a pace that allows for noticing. From that state, children can reference a trusted guide, share attention for a moment, and try something uncertain. When arousal spikes or drops, behavior shifts to protection. What looks like refusal often means not now. What looks like rigidity often means the world is moving too fast. The first response is not more words. It is co-regulation.
What we actually regulate
In RDI® we talk about Dynamic Adaptation and the mental tools that support it. Regulating is one of those tools, along with Monitoring, Updating, and Performance Evaluating. We monitor where we are relative to a limit or a goal. We update when the situation changes. We evaluate how well our actions are working and then we try again. Regulation is not a single switch. It is the set of adjustments that lets us stay engaged when conditions move under our feet.
Sometimes the job is limit and boundary regulating. We keep actions within a safe range. A child on a curb learns how close is close enough. At first the boundary is clear. Then life becomes more dynamic. The line is crowded. A stroller rolls by. Wind pushes at a coat. The same task now requires small, ongoing corrections.
Sometimes the job is fine tuning. We aim toward a desired state by taking a step, reading what happened, and taking the next step a little closer. None of the early steps are perfect. They are supposed to be off target because they give us the feedback we need. Pouring milk without a flood. Matching your partner’s rhythm while you sweep and I collect. Hitting a moving target in a gym or a moving idea in conversation. Fine tuning is the quiet heart of growth.
Sometimes the job is goal-approach regulating. We want steady progress toward something that takes time. The captain of a small boat does not point once and relax. She reads wind, current, depth, weather, crew, and traffic, and then she chooses the next best move. Parents do this every day. They juggle schedule, energy, sensory cost, and motivation to keep the family moving toward rest, toward school, toward a plan that fits real people.
Sometimes the job is self-regulating. The process is the product. We keep a routine within healthy parameters. We maintain tone and care while we cook, garden, dress, or clean. We notice small drifts away from quality and bring ourselves back. In families, this often looks like protecting a morning rhythm or keeping a bedtime ritual intact enough to be soothing.
There will also be times for repair. Even our best efforts will fail. A conversation escalates or collapses. A plan loops without moving forward. Repair is not optimization. It is restoration. We return to the last place that worked and rebuild from there. A quiet breath together. One steady touch on the table. One simple description of what is happening now. Repair brings us back inside the range where learning can live.
And then there is co-regulating. Two people share responsibility for a mutually desirable state. The reference point is another human being who is moving and changing. We read each other and adjust. We add a little enthusiasm to lift the moment. We slow our pace to keep a rhythm. We clarify our roles when a task needs coordination. We also accept that the other person will change the plan. This is not like outrunning a train on a track. It is more like meeting a living creature on a trail. The other being is adapting to you as you adapt to it. You cannot script that in advance. You respond as the encounter unfolds.
Why strategies dissolve at home or school
Families often ask why a plan that worked on Tuesday in a clinic dissolves on Wednesday at home. The answer is not mysterious. Working memory shrinks when stress rises. Auditory processing becomes less efficient. Novelty that felt possible in a quiet room feels risky in a noisy kitchen. Even well practiced steps can disappear. This is why I return to the same phrase: regulation before instruction. If the body says no, the brain cannot say yes.
Co-regulation as the entry point to learning
Co-regulation is not a trick. It is a way of being together that lowers load and re-opens the channels for shared meaning. We lend steadiness until it can be borrowed and then built. We slow ourselves first. We let the face carry more of the message and the mouth less. We leave longer spaces between steps. We simplify the scene so there is one clear path rather than five competing paths. We speak as partners who share experience. I see red. The spoon is heavy. The room is loud. I will wait with you.
I often suggest that we adjust the room before we adjust the child. Lower glare. Soften echo. Cut a scratchy tag. Offer movement that organizes rather than agitates. A few wall push ups while toast browns can do more for learning than another prompt. This is sensory regulation in autism put to work in a kitchen.
Language can help or it can add weight. Questions add demand. Near the edge, demand feels like pressure. Shift to experience sharing. Your shoulders look tight so I am going to slow us down. Something felt like too much. We will pause and breathe. Words return to their right place. They connect rather than control.
A simple rhythm you can tuck into the day
You can practice regulation without adding hours. Arrive with your calm where it can be seen. Anchor the moment with one obvious, gentle statement. Join the movement that already exists. Share one small observation that invites noticing. Stretch the moment with a tiny uncertainty and give it time. If it wobbles, repair by simplifying and return to the last success. Close before fatigue and leave a cue for next time. This can live inside breakfast, shoe finding, mailbox walks, a three minute tidy, bedtime.
A morning picture. The blinds are down. I stand where my breathing is visible and say, Good morning. I am going to move slowly. I tap the blanket with a steady beat and hold up two socks. I am choosing this one. Then I wait. A small hand reaches. We begin on our feet.
An afternoon picture. Homework is two problems, not ten. This one looks tricky. Thirty seconds pass without rescue. A glance at me, then the pencil, then back. Together. I take the first step and stop. The second step appears from the other side of the table. We close the folder while there is still fuel and walk to the mailbox.
An evening picture. The light is low. The old tune returns. Three breaths. My chest does the counting. I trace three slow lines on the sheet. Three lines. Done. The routine becomes a cue for safety tomorrow.
When it still falls apart
It will. Take those moments as information, not verdicts. Rising arousal calls for a quieter voice, fewer words, and a smaller task. Escape often means the environment is winning the contest for attention. Reduce competing input and draw a simple exit and return. Rigidity softens when the feeling is named and the choices narrow to one true option. Shutdown does not negotiate. Sit nearby without demand. Move in parallel until the body is ready. Your calm presence is not a placeholder for teaching. It is the intervention that makes teaching possible.
How to notice real progress
You do not need a stopwatch. Look for quicker recovery after small mismatches. Notice how often your child glances to your face before acting. Feel moments of shared attention lengthen by a beat. Count fewer prompts at the beginning and fewer big reactions to small changes. That is Dynamic Adaptation coming back online. Regulation, monitoring, updating, and performance evaluating are working together again.
A word to professionals
You can coach vocabulary and grammar and the mechanics of turn taking. If your clients still miss the moment, begin again with nonverbal coordination and co-regulation. Stabilize referencing, prosody, posture, and pacing. Bring language back when those channels carry meaning. Start where coordination lives, not where vocabulary is abundant. Design experiences with just noticeable differences so the learner can detect and tolerate small change, then increase complexity until there is a genuine challenge. That brief window of not knowing, followed by self discovery, is where growth sits.
How RDI supports a regulation-first approach
RDI® begins with state. Our consultants help families create everyday moments that protect regulation, practice co-regulation, and only then layer instruction. We pay attention to pacing, environment, and language so the nervous system feels safe enough to learn. We use short video to slow down our seeing. We choose one change each week and practice it until it holds. Over time, urgency gives way to shared thinking. Skills begin to show up where life actually happens.
If you are wondering where to begin, choose one familiar time of day and one ordinary activity. Lower the load. Slow the pace. Share your perspective with a few well chosen words. Record a minute if it helps you see. Look for softer shoulders, a shared glance, a longer wait. Do more of what worked tomorrow. Capacity grows in those small, repeated successes.
If you would like a partner in this work, connect with a certified RDI® consultant. We will look at your day together, find a workable starting point, and grow from there—one steady step at a time. In-person and online options are available. Get started here.
0 Comments