A new country. A different school. A house move. A friendship ending. A divorce, an illness, a change in routine or even one of those exciting new beginnings everyone around the child has already decided they should be delighted about.
Adults tend to explain change through language. We tell children why it is happening, why it will probably be good for them and why there is absolutely no reason to worry. The child’s nervous system, meanwhile, has apparently declined to read the presentation.
Before children have decided what a change means, their brain and body are already noticing what has disappeared, what feels unfamiliar, what can no longer be predicted and whether the adults around them still seem available and steady.
Understanding this does not make every transition easy. It does, however, change the way we interpret what happens next.
A child who is struggling with change is unlikely to announce, “My nervous system is currently finding this unfamiliar environment rather demanding.”
They may refuse to get dressed. Become clingier, angrier or unusually quiet. Struggle to sleep. Complain about stomach aches. Need more reassurance than they did last month. Or collapse over the tragically incorrect colour of a cup.
And no, this does not mean every difficult behaviour should now be explained away with the words nervous system. Children still need boundaries, responsibility and adults willing to lead.
Understanding behaviour is not the same as excusing it. But behaviour is information.
If every reaction becomes a character judgement — lazy, rude, dramatic, ungrateful — we may respond to what is visible while completely missing what the child is trying, often rather inelegantly, to manage underneath it.
The developing brain is still building the systems involved in regulating emotion, shifting attention, holding information in mind and adapting flexibly when circumstances change. To be fair, many adult brains are not displaying these abilities with breathtaking consistency either.
And change adds load.
A move, for example, is almost never just a move. To an adult, “We moved to Athens” may describe one event. To a child it can mean: I no longer see my friend every morning, my teacher sounds different, lunch works differently, Grandma is on a screen now, I do not know where anything is, and everyone else appears to understand rules nobody has explained to me.
Recent research with internationally mobile children reflects this complexity. A 2025 study of 126 children and adolescents aged 7–17 who had relocated internationally found that perceived stress made the largest contribution to wellbeing in the factors studied, while resilience appeared to buffer mental-health difficulties. The important point is not that relocation is inherently harmful. It is that children can experience the same kind of transition very differently.
Which is inconvenient, admittedly, because it means we still do not have the universal “children adapt quickly” rule adults are so fond of quoting.
Some do. Some appear to, until bedtime. Some adore the new school and then completely unravel because you bought different cereal. The cereal is probably not the whole story.
One of the most useful things we can offer during change is predictability. “You’ll love your new school” is reassurance we cannot actually guarantee. “We’ll arrive at eight, I’ll walk you to the entrance, your teacher is Mrs Brown, and I’ll be here when school finishes” gives the nervous system something else.
A map. Children often need less motivational speaking and more boring information.
Where does my bag go? What happens at lunch? Who collects me? What if I do not understand? Where is the toilet?
A recent systematic review of 61 studies on children’s transition to school found that adjustment is not simply an event happening to the child but an ongoing process involving the child, the parents and the school, with practical issues, parental emotions and communication all playing a role. Familiar routines can help for much the same reason. The bedtime story. Saturday pancakes. The ridiculous goodbye phrase. The mug that apparently cannot be replaced by another perfectly good mug without violating international law.
When much of life is unfamiliar, some gloriously boring continuity can be reassuring. So can belonging. A 2025 review of 90 studies found that school connectedness — including belonging and relationships with teachers and peers — is associated with a range of psychological outcomes including wellbeing, resilience, anxiety, depression and self-esteem. For a child in a new environment, belonging may begin very small. One teacher who knows their name. One child who saves a seat. One activity where they still feel competent. One person who understands the joke. Adults often imagine adjustment as a moment when the child finally announces, “I love it here.” The nervous system is usually less theatrical. It collects evidence. I know where my classroom is. Someone expects me. I survived yesterday. I know what happens next.
This is also why children sometimes need connection before interrogation when they come home. “How was school? Who did you sit with? Did you talk? Did you make a friend? Why aren’t you answering me?” A child who has spent hours processing unfamiliar people, rules, language and expectations may not be withholding vital intelligence. They may simply have nothing left. Food, movement, quiet, closeness or twenty minutes of not producing a report may need to come first. Connection before questions is not avoidance. It is timing.
And none of this requires surrendering boundaries.
“I can see today took a lot out of you. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re not allowed to speak to me like that. Let’s take a few minutes and try again.”
Two things can be true at once. Your experience makes sense. The boundary remains.
Perhaps this is the part that matters most: resilience is not pretending change is easy. Children do not become stronger because adults convince them that nothing is difficult. They become more able to adapt when difficulty happens with enough support, relationship, opportunity and safety around them.
So perhaps, instead of asking only, “How do I make this behaviour disappear?” we can ask a more useful question:
“What is this child trying to manage, and what would help them manage it?”
That question does not make parenting effortless. Apparently, nothing does. But it does help us stand beside the child we actually have, in the change they are actually experiencing, while the unfamiliar gradually becomes familiar enough to feel like life again.
Need Support During Your Family’s Transition?
Moving to a new country can bring changes and challenges for both parents and children. If your family is navigating cultural adjustment, behaviour, emotional regulation or communication challenges, Maggie Pouplis offers personalised support for international, expat and mixed-culture families.
To learn more about one-to-one parent coaching, family sessions and workshops, get in touch with Maggie through maggiepouplis.com or send an email to hello@maggiepouplis.com.