Supporting a Child with Complex Needs in Early Years Education - A Nursery Director's first hand experience.
- Olivia Weilbach
- Sep 1
- 2 min read
In early years education, we meet children who change the way we teach, the way we listen, and the way we care. They remind us that learning isn’t just about letters and numbers—it’s about connection, safety, and trust.
This is the story of Leo—a name changed to protect his identity—and the journey we took together to find calm in a world that often felt too loud.
The Beginning
A few years ago, I was asked to help set up a new nursery. It was a dream come true. I poured my heart and soul into creating a calm, child-centred environment. We were a small setting, full of hope and excitement as we prepared to open our doors.
A few months after opening, when things were still quiet, Leo joined us. He was a bright, curious little boy with a diagnosis of autism. He was nonverbal and experienced the world in a deeply sensory way. Leo had already been through several nurseries that struggled to meet his complex needs. We were honoured that his family chose us, and we were determined to do everything we could to support him.

Understanding Leo
Leo often sought out textures and tastes that weren’t safe—sand, stones, even bits of plastic. These behaviours weren’t defiant or disruptive—they were his way of coping, of trying to regulate himself in an environment that overwhelmed him.
The setting, with its constant movement, and unpredictable sounds, was a sensory minefield. For Leo, it was exhausting. He didn’t just need support—he needed a space where he could feel safe, calm, and in control.
The Emotional Journey
As his teacher, I quickly realised that Leo needed more than structure—he needed understanding. Traditional routines didn’t work for him. He needed flexibility, patience, and a space where he could just be.
There were days when I felt helpless. I worried constantly about his safety, especially when he tried to eat things that could harm him. I would often go home in tears—not only because we felt as a setting that we didn’t have all the support and guidance needed to meet his needs, but also because of the strain the 1:1 support placed on us as practitioners.

Leo attended 40 hours a week. That meant constant vigilance, constant adaptation, and constant emotional investment. We were stretched thin. Breaks were rare. Planning time disappeared. And the weight of responsibility—knowing that Leo depended on us to feel safe—was immense.
But there were also moments of quiet connection—when Leo would sit beside me, reach for my hand, or simply rest in silence. Those moments reminded me that progress isn’t always visible. Sometimes, it’s felt.
A Message to Fellow Educators
Supporting a child with complex needs is not easy. It requires more than knowledge—it requires heart. But it also brings extraordinary rewards. You learn to celebrate the smallest victories, to find joy in quiet connections, and to grow in ways you never imagined.
To every teacher walking this path: you are making a difference. Your empathy matters. Your presence matters. And the safe space you create can be the turning point in a child’s life.
Talk to us about your experience - get in touch at hello@cubbie.ie

