I have been exploring an idea I have come to think of as the ‘emotional backpack’.
The concept is simple: every learner arrives in our classrooms carrying things we cannot necessarily see. For some, that backpack may contain anxiety, financial pressures, caring responsibilities, difficulties at home, SEND, previous educational failure or a fear of getting things wrong.
We rarely know exactly what is inside. But we often see the effect of its weight.
A learner refuses to start a task. Another arrives late for the third time that week. Someone who understood something yesterday suddenly cannot recall it. One becomes confrontational when challenged, while another quietly withdraws.
It can be tempting to interpret these moments simply as behaviour: they are not motivated, they do not care, they are being difficult. Sometimes, the reality is more complicated.
The emotional backpack is not about explaining away poor behaviour or removing expectations. It encourages us to look beyond what is immediately visible and ask: what might this learner be carrying that is making learning harder today?
And while we cannot necessarily remove what is in the backpack, we can make sure we are not adding unnecessary weight.
When assumptions become barriers
Empathy asks us to suspend judgement long enough to understand another person’s perspective. That becomes particularly important when we consider unconscious bias.
A student who regularly arrives late can quickly become labelled as someone who does not care. A quiet learner may be seen as disengaged. Someone who challenges a decision becomes ‘difficult’, while a learner who repeatedly asks for instructions may be assumed not to have listened.
Once those labels take hold, it becomes easy to interpret everything that follows through the same lens.
Yet lateness might be connected to caring responsibilities or unreliable transport. Silence may be anxiety rather than disengagement. Repeated questions might indicate processing difficulties or an unmet additional need.
That will not always be the explanation. The aim is not to replace one assumption with another.
The point is to remain curious.
Rather than asking, ‘What is wrong with this learner?’, perhaps we should ask, ‘What haven’t I understood yet?’
From survival brain to learning brain
At the recent Surrey FE Teaching and Learning Conference, where I delivered a session on this topic, I used the shorthand of moving from a ‘survival brain’ to a ‘learning brain’.
When a learner is preoccupied by stress, anxiety or other pressures, learning is competing for their attention. Someone can therefore be physically present in the classroom but have far less capacity for attention, memory, problem-solving or self-regulation than we might expect.
Recent Education Endowment Foundation evidence on metacognition and self-regulation in 16-to-19 education is particularly relevant. Drawing on 39 studies, it reports an average impact of more than eight months’ additional progress.
Crucially, it cautions against assuming learners already possess the skills to regulate their learning. Teachers should model, scaffold and guide learners in planning, monitoring and evaluating their learning before expecting them to do so independently.
Our role is not to diagnose what is happening in a learner’s life, nor do teachers need to become therapists. It is to create classroom conditions that give as many learners as possible the opportunity to move from simply coping towards being ready to learn.
Inclusion happens in ordinary moments
This feels particularly timely at the start of a new academic year.
Ofsted’s renewed inspection approach places greater emphasis on inclusion, with particular attention paid to disadvantaged learners, those with SEND or high needs, learners known or previously known to social care and those facing other barriers to learning or wellbeing.
But inclusion cannot exist only in policies, support plans or specialist teams. It has to be visible in everyday teaching.
We should see it in whether learners understand what they are being asked to do, whether resources are accessible, whether teaching takes account of different starting points and whether learners feel safe enough to admit when they do not understand.
Specialist support remains vital, but inclusion belongs to all of us.
And inclusive practice is not about removing boundaries or avoiding difficult conversations. It combines clear expectations with an understanding that learners may require different support to meet them.
Small things can lighten the backpack
The encouraging part is that this does not always require dramatic intervention.
Predictable routines can reduce uncertainty. Clear explanations, manageable chunks of learning and effective modelling can make tasks less overwhelming. For some learners, simply knowing where to begin can be the difference between engaging and switching off.
Relationships matter too, because relationships allow us to notice.
We notice when the learner who normally contributes has gone quiet. We recognise when persistent lateness is unusual. We begin to understand when frustration may actually be fear of failure.
Sometimes changing a single question can alter an interaction. Instead of asking, ‘Why haven’t you done this?’, we might ask, ‘What is stopping you from getting started?’
The expectation has not disappeared, but the conversation has changed.
Empathy must still be courageous
Understanding that a learner is carrying a heavy emotional backpack does not mean carrying it for them. Nor should disadvantage, trauma or additional need become reasons to expect less.
In fact, learners facing the greatest barriers arguably need us to be most ambitious for them.
Sometimes the empathetic response is additional support, a scaffold, a different explanation or more time to process. At other times, it is a calm but clear boundary.
The message can simultaneously be: I recognise that this is difficult, and I still believe you are capable of doing it.
Those statements are not contradictory.
Teachers cannot remove poverty, bereavement, family difficulties, insecure housing, caring responsibilities or every challenge beyond the college gates. Nor should we expect them to.
But we can consider whether the environments we create add another weight to the backpack or make it a little easier to carry.
Sometimes what makes the biggest difference is deceptively simple: a calm welcome, a predictable lesson, one achievable first step or a teacher who notices that something is not quite right.
So when a learner is struggling, perhaps the question should not only be, ‘Why aren’t they learning?’
It might also be: ‘What might they be carrying today – and what can I do about the part that is within my control?’