Listening Beyond the Silence

When I was at school, I was part of a first aid team. We entered competitions where different scenarios were set up, and my team and I had to use our first aid skills to respond. One thing I still remember my teacher telling us was to be aware of the quiet person. 

“The one who is screaming is ok - they are alive and breathing. It’s the quiet one you need to watch. They may be alive when you arrive, but don’t take your eyes off them.” 

That has stayed with me. 

Because in many ways, the same can be true for children. 

Take a classroom, for example. The child who is more disruptive often receives the most attention (though not always the kind they need). Meanwhile, the child who sits quietly, follows instructions, asks for very little, and tries hard to please can easily slip under the radar. 

They don’t draw attention to themselves. 
They don’t disrupt. 
They appear to be coping. 

But what if their quietness is telling us something important? 

Through a trauma-informed lens, we often talk about fight, flight, and freeze. These are the more commonly recognised responses to stress or threat. But there is another response that is just as important to understand: fawn. 

Some children cope by trying to keep everyone around them happy. They may become overly compliant, eager to please, or highly attuned to the needs and emotions of others. Disagreement can feel unsafe, so they avoid it. Expressing their own needs can feel risky, so they minimise them. 

This can show up in subtle ways. 

In a play therapy session, one child carefully wrote on her art box that her foster carer was the “best.” She said the same about her grandmother, and she also showed a preference for her therapist. At first glance, this might seem like simple affection. But with an understanding of her story, a deeper picture began to emerge. 

She often felt torn between the important adults in her life, unsure where she truly belonged. Expressing this confusion felt too difficult, so instead, she tried to please each person, almost as if she could secure her place by “winning” their approval. 

Her relationships often held a push-pull dynamic. She longed for closeness but was also fearful of it. Pleasing others became a way to manage that fear. If she could always do the “right” thing, she could feel safer in the relationship, more in control of how others responded to her. 

Over time, she had learned to push her own thoughts and feelings aside, treating them as less important. When this was gently explored in play therapy, she was able to share that when she was younger, saying or doing the “wrong” thing could lead to punishment. So her coping strategy made sense: don’t upset anyone. 

Stay agreeable. Stay safe. 

But there is a cost to this. 

When a child consistently orients themselves around others in this way, they can lose touch with their own sense of self: their likes, dislikes, needs, and voice. Part of the work in play therapy then becomes creating a space where they can begin to rediscover these parts of themselves. A space where they don’t have to perform or please, but can simply be. 

And this brings us back to the quiet child. 

And to what is not said. 

The fawn response can look like kindness, cooperation, and maturity. It can be praised and encouraged. But underneath, there may be a child who has learned that their safety depends on keeping others comfortable, who has learned to silence their own voice. 

Like the quiet casualty at the scene, they can be easy to miss. 

Not because they are doing anything wrong, but because they are doing everything “right.” 

When we look with curiosity, we might begin to wonder: 
What is this child not saying? 
What are they holding on their own? 

This is not about blame. The fawn response is an intelligent adaptation to environments that once felt unsafe. But over time, it can come at the cost of a child’s sense of self. 

So we come back, again, to noticing. 

Not to make the quiet child louder, but to listen more closely. 
To recognise that behaviour is communication. Even when it looks like compliance. 
And to gently remind them: 

You don’t have to earn your place here. 
You are allowed to be fully yourself. 

What can you hear?

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