The next time you hear about a little girl who smashes a classroom because she is mad, resist the urge to share the video for mockery. Instead, ask how the school will support her return tomorrow. The answer to that question defines whether we are a society that punishes disability or heals it.

When a little girl smashes a classroom because she is mad, she has likely entered a state of . Her heart rate is over 180 beats per minute. Her body is flooded with cortisol and adrenaline. To an outside observer, she looks violent. To a trained clinician, she looks terrified.

The air in Room 2B didn’t just cool; it curdled. Maya, usually a quiet fixture in the third row, stood vibrating. Her small fists were white-knuckled, tucked tight against her sides. It started with a low, jagged hum in her throat—the sound of a tea kettle about to boil over—before the first crack of thunder hit.