Training Brazilian Jiu Jitsu as a neurodivergent person means stepping into a space that’s physical, unpredictable, and built on assumptions about how people learn, respond, and communicate. For some students, those assumptions don’t hold. Instructions might take longer to process. Eye contact might not come naturally. Touch, sound, or pressure can trigger strong responses. This isn’t defiance. It’s how some nervous systems respond to stimulus.

Jiu Jitsu is often taught in a standard way. Watch, copy, drill, repeat. But this method doesn’t work for everyone. Some students learn through pattern recognition, by noticing the rhythm and underlying structure before they can reproduce the movement. It can look like they’re not paying attention, but often they’re absorbing everything, just in a different way.

Control in Jiu Jitsu isn’t only about position. It’s also about regulating the nervous system. For students with high sensitivity, sparring can feel like chaos. The right structure can create a sense of safety and clarity. Control in this context means the ability to stay grounded, not spiral under pressure. Sometimes, things go wrong. A student might panic, freeze, or lash out. Not because they intend harm, but because they’re overwhelmed. A coach offering calm guidance might feel like they’re shouting. A gentle grip might feel like force. Even help, given with care, can be felt as a threat when someone is in a dysregulated state. In these situations, it’s important to check in with the child’s experience and communicate directly with the coach to build a full picture of what happened. That kind of collaboration helps keep the space safe for everyone and strengthens trust between parents, students, and instructors.

There’s no blame here, but it needs to be addressed. Coaches have a duty to protect all students. That includes the one who is struggling. If safety can’t be guaranteed, the training has to stop. That’s not punishment. It’s protection. The space has to be safe for everyone on the mat, including the student, the training partner, and the coach.

Progress in Jiu Jitsu isn’t always steady. Some students train hard for weeks, then disappear. This could be due to overstimulation, difficulties keeping up with the pace of the class, feeling left out or behind, burnout, attention or processing challenges, executive functioning issues, or not knowing how to manage big emotions. It’s not always easy to explain, even for the student. We try to make room for that without judgement.

I don’t teach in a rigid way. Sometimes the lesson changes direction because of a student’s question or an unexpected movement. That’s not a detour. It’s the lesson adjusting to what’s in front of it. Jiu Jitsu is responsive. Teaching it should be too.

We also use play. Movement without pressure. Space to explore, fail, and try again. This kind of environment supports all students, not just neurodivergent ones. It encourages curiosity, connection, and trust.

Being neurodivergent doesn’t mean you don’t belong on the mats. It means you learn in a way that may not fit the standard mould. That’s not a problem. It’s a reason to teach better. Parents, coaches, and students all share responsibility for making that possible.

Jiu Jitsu isn’t about fitting in. It’s about learning to move, connect, and adapt. If we get that right, everyone grows. Together.

Note: I’m not diagnosed as neurodivergent. This article is based on my experience coaching students who are, and adapting the way I teach to support different learning needs and communication styles. My thinking on this has been influenced in part by the work of Dr Devon Price, especially their book Unmasking Autism, and by the thoughtful input of Teresa De La Cour, whose feedback and care for students continues to shape how we approach difficult conversations.