The Hidden World of Behaviourism in Schools: Why It’s Time for a New Approach

The Hidden World of Behaviourism: Why Our Support for Autistic Children Needs to Change

This blog explores the psychological legacy of behaviourism and the real-life impact this can have on children, particularly autistic children. It includes reflections on outdated practices and the emotional cost of reward-and-punishment systems that are still prevalent in modern schools.

When I was a child, I struggled. I struggled to sit still. I struggled to follow rules that made no sense to me. I struggled to connect with teachers who didn’t see me. But I thrived when someone did. When a teacher got me, when a human saw a human, I could learn, I could shine. And now, as a teacher myself and as an adult who was once that neurodivergent child, storming out of class, throwing a chair across the room. I see those same patterns of struggle in the children I work with every day.

And more than anything, I see the quiet hand of behaviourism still pulling the strings, from classroom rules to school culture to national policy. It is time we looked at the hidden world of behaviourism. Because it has not disappeared, it has just changed its clothes.

Where Behaviourism Began, And Why It Took Hold

The origins of behaviourism trace back to early 20th-century psychologists like John B. Watson and later B.F. Skinner argued that human behaviour could be shaped, even controlled, through systems of reinforcement and punishment. It was a radical shift from Freudian psychoanalysis, and more accessible than the work of Adler, Maslow, or Rogers, who were asking bigger, more profound questions about meaning, development, and human potential.

Why did behaviourism win the day? Because it was easier. If a child is disruptive, train them not to be. If a person is anxious, punish the thought. If an animal can be shaped, why not a human? And so, education adopted it. Psychology adapted it. Society absorbed it.

The Quiet Legacy in Modern School?

We may not be giving electric shocks to students who get an answer wrong, but make no mistake, behaviourism is still alive and well in our schools. I suggest it is just better disguised. Here are just a few places it hides:

• “Put your hand up before speaking.” A child who blurts out the answer, not to disrupt, but out of pure excitement, is told to stop. Why? Because the method of communication didn’t fit the structure. That isn’t about learning; it’s about control.
  
• “Good sitting, good looking, good listening.” These phrases sound harmless, but they demand compliance over connection. One child’s “good sitting” might be cross-legged on a chair. For another, it’s under the table, shoes off, sitting on a pillow. Why do we insist they conform to a single version?
  
• Detentions and exclusions. We still punish children with isolation, lost time, and public shame. But punishment does not lead to reflection; it leads to resentment, disconnection, and trauma. One child I supported had 15 detentions in one week. What could possibly be the purpose of that?
  
• Stand up when a senior teacher enters the room. Respect is not earned through fear or ritual. It is felt when a child knows you see their worth.

The Cost for Autistic Children

For autistic children, the effects of this hidden behaviourism are especially profound. These systems don’t just misunderstand them; they often break them.

I’ve seen it repeatedly: children are told off for pacing, speaking too loudly, or not speaking at all. Children are excluded for refusing demands they cannot emotionally process. Children are given rewards for compliance, as though their inner worlds mean nothing unless they are behaving “appropriately.”

When I was told to try CBT, it made me worse. The idea of analysing my thoughts, of categorising them as irrational or not, only made me more anxious. Flicking an elastic band on my wrist to stop intrusive thoughts left me in a lot of pain, no better. These approaches, drawn from behavioural models, did not help me heal. They made me feel broken.

A Different Lens: Humanism and the Path We Could Have Taken

Imagine if, instead of following Skinner’s mechanistic view of the mind, we had followed Carl Rogers’ belief in unconditional positive regard. Or Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, where safety, love, and belonging must come before performance. Or Alfred Adler, who viewed all behaviour as goal-directed and rooted in belonging and significance.

The humanistic psychologists were asking the right questions:

Not How do we control behaviour? But, why is the behaviour there in the first place?

The road they paved was messier, slower, and less predictable. But it was also more humane.

---

Alfie Kohn: “Punished by Rewards”

Few have challenged the modern face of behaviourism more effectively than Alfie Kohn. In his book Punished by Rewards, he argues that both punishments and rewards are two sides of the same manipulative coin. They are both tools of control. And ultimately, they undermine genuine motivation, curiosity, and connection.

Kohn writes:

“The more we reward people for doing something, the more they tend to lose interest in whatever they had to do to get the reward.”

Children should not learn because of stickers, points, house tokens, or gold stars. They should learn because it is meaningful. After all, they are seen, and because they are safe. If we need external incentives to get them through the door, maybe the problem isn’t the child. Maybe it is the door.

The ACCEPT Approach: A Different Way Forward

This is why I developed The ACCEPT Approach, not as a strategy to replace one system with another, but as a way to reframe the entire conversation.

It starts with removing the demands that trigger anxiety. Reminding the child (and ourselves) that their struggle is not their fault. Reassuring them that they are safe and supported. And reaffirming our commitment to walk with them, not ahead of them or behind.

We do not need more systems to control children. We need better ways to connect with them.

For those curious about how acceptance-based support can look in practice, especially for autistic and neurodivergent learners, I invite you to explore AcceptingBehaviour.com and discover the ACCEPT model.

Final Thoughts: It’s Time to Pull Back the Curtain

Behaviourism is still with us, not because it is best, but because it is familiar. It’s in our school rules, our reward charts, our detentions, and our definitions of “good behaviour.” But we owe it to the children in our care, and the children we once were, to ask better questions.

What if sitting under a desk is a good alternative to sitting at a desk? What if shouting out is a form of engagement, not defiance? What if the child in detention is not learning a lesson, but losing trust in us?

Let us move from compliance to connection, from modification to understanding, from behaviourism to acceptance. Because what every child needs is not to be managed. They need to be met, where they are, just as they are.