When people talk about trauma they often think of crisis, therapy or medical intervention, not university education. But the truth is trauma walks into our classrooms every day. Some students carry visible scars, others invisible. The pandemic, family crises, financial pressures and social upheaval are just some of the experiences that can shape how our students learn, behave and engage.
As educators, we shouldn’t simply see learning as delivering knowledge and then walking away. We need to view our students as whole people, rather than numbers on a data sheet. This is where trauma-informed education can play a role.
This is not about lowering standards or turning professors into therapists. It’s about creating safe, supportive and flexible environments that function to help all students to learn and thrive, especially those who have faced or are facing adversity.
At my institution, we’ve been on a journey to embed this approach throughout our campus. And we’re seeing improved student well-being, academic performance, retention and overall campus culture.
What is trauma-informed education?
Trauma-informed education recognises that past or ongoing trauma can directly affect a student’s ability to learn. A traumatised student can struggle with concentration, attendance, motivation or trust.
Our role as educators is not to diagnose but to respond in ways that promote healing and resilience. This means building a classroom that asks “What happened to you?” rather than “What’s wrong with you?”
We recognise that this is a growing need. Today’s students have lived through Covid-19, political and environmental crises, economic uncertainty and social change. Their mental health challenges are increasing around the world. If universities ignore this reality, we risk losing talented young people who can otherwise succeed.
How compassion pays off
Remember that compassion is an investment with measurable returns.
When we support students as whole people, we see fewer dropouts, higher grades and stronger student engagement. Our classrooms become more inclusive, our faculty experience fewer conflicts and our graduates leave with a deeper sense of belonging and civic responsibility.
Universities spend heavily on recruitment, marketing and facilities but one of the most effective retention strategies we’ve found is human connection. It costs less than a new building but delivers a far greater impact.
Applying trauma-informed learning
Our trauma-informed approach grew out of our pilot holistic advising initiative, which was launched about a year ago. Traditional academic advice tends to focus on course choices and credit counts. Holistic support goes further. We meet with our students regularly to discuss, not only their studies but also their well-being, motivation and sense of purpose.
Sometimes a student will admit they’re thinking of dropping out or they’re struggling with anxiety, burnout or family issues.
Rather than treating this as an administrative problem, we listen. We connect them with our counselling and mental health services, or sometimes just offer time and empathy. That personal follow-up, checking in once or twice a week, can make all the difference to them.
We’ve also built an on-campus counselling centre with walk-in hours so that students can seek help easily and confidentially. Faculty members know where to refer them if they need more specialised support.
Many students value the holistic help they receive, attending regular sessions with advisers who have become their primary support resource on campus.
Our Center for Teaching and Learning plays another key role. Most professors are trained in their disciplines, as opposed to wider education or student psychology. The centre provides workshops on trauma-informed teaching, inclusive pedagogy and student well-being, among others.
Liberal arts and the power of choice
Our liberal arts model is one of our greatest advantages. The flexibility and student choice on offer are not just pedagogical tools, they’re therapeutic in practice.
Students who’ve experienced trauma often feel a loss of control. By getting them involved in designing part of their academic path, including choosing electives that resonate with their interests or adjusting course loads within reason, we can help restore that sense of empowerment. It’s about meaning-making. When students feel their choices matter, their motivation returns.
This doesn’t mean lowering expectations. In my own finance classes, I still hold students to rigorous standards but I’ve learnt to blend empathy with structure. For example, instead of posting a bare numerical grade after an exam, I now add short, personalised comments that provide feedback on every graded assignment.
These could offer encouragement, a recognition of effort or suggestions for improvement. The response has been incredible. Students feel “seen”.
Small gestures like this create an environment of trust and belonging, and they cost nothing but a little time and effort.
Compassion and rigour are not opposites, they strengthen each other. Students perform better when they know their professor believes in them.
Changing mindsets
Of course, adopting trauma-informed education requires a shift in university culture. Not all academics are immediately comfortable with the idea. Some worry it might mean “going soft” or shouldering emotional labour that’s beyond their remit. Others may mistake struggling students as being lazy or disengaged.
I used to be one of this university’s toughest finance professors. But after I became a holistic adviser, I started to see my students differently.
Behind a missed deadline or failed exam, there is often a story. A loss, a mental health struggle, a family crisis. Instead of making negative assumptions about a student’s competence, I invite them to talk, they open up – and we can find solutions together.
I once had a discussion with a student who had filled out a form to withdraw from my course. I invited her to talk and during our conversation, I learned that she was facing personal issues and felt overwhelmed by the large number of assignments across her different courses.
After a lengthy discussion, she was convinced to continue in her studies and went on to complete them successfully. This experience showed me how important individual, supportive discussions with students can be.
These experiences have taught me that compassion and rigour are not opposites – they strengthen each other. Students perform better when they know you believe in them.
Four ways to start your trauma-informed journey:
1. Build holistic advising structures
Move beyond academic checklists. Train faculty advisers to look at students as whole individuals. Encourage regular, informal conversations about well-being and motivation, not just grades. Office hours are good opportunities for these conversations. Create clear referral pathways to counselling and mental health services.
2. Invest in staff development
Offer workshops and resources to help faculty understand trauma’s impact on learning. Our Center for Teaching and Learning training sessions have been transformative. When educators gain confidence in handling sensitive situations, the entire learning environment improves. I was first introduced to trauma-induced education through one of their workshops, and because of that experience I am currently pursuing a certificate in the subject.
3. Embed flexibility within structure
Flexibility doesn’t mean chaos. It offers choice where possible through different assessment types, opportunities to make up work, and transparent communication. Make sure syllabi list support services and clarify that help is available.
4. Nurture a culture of compassion
Celebrate well-being across campus. We hold a Well-being Week with open workshops and walk-in sessions for students and staff. This normalises conversations around mental health and reminds everyone that caring for ourselves and others is part of academic excellence.
Looking ahead
Trauma-informed education isn’t a trend, it’s a necessity. If universities want to remain relevant and resilient, we must invest in human connection as seriously as we invest in technology or infrastructure.
When I walk into my classroom today, I don’t just see future financiers or economists. I see young people navigating a complex world, learning not only how to analyse data but how to heal, adapt and lead with empathy.
That, to me, is the real return on investment.
Hind Lebdaoui is associate professor of finance and economics at Al Akhawayn University.
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