What Inclusion Truly Requires

Building systems that support every way a child learns

Inclusion is not a mindset. It is not goodwill. It is not a teacher who “tries their best.”

Inclusion is architecture.

If the structure is wrong, the outcomes will be wrong. No amount of empathy compensates for a system that is not designed to hold difference.

I submitted a policy proposal on 1 October 2025 calling for structural changes to how schools are funded, how support is delivered, and how teachers are trained so that neurodivergent pupils receive predictable and equitable support across the region.

When we talk about neurodivergent children in education, we often reduce the discussion to individual behaviour, individual diagnosis, and individual resilience. That framing is convenient because it keeps responsibility small. But inclusion does not fail at the level of the individual child. It fails across layers.

Layer one: the child

Every child is unique. Neurodiversity exists on a spectrum. ADHD does not look the same in one child as it does in another. Dyslexia does not cancel intelligence. Impulsivity does not equal disrespect.

Yet schools are built around standardisation. Standard pace. Standard instruction. Standard response time. The further a child deviates from that standard, the more friction appears.

The child becomes “complex.” In reality, the system is rigid.

Layer two: the parents

Support too often depends on parental capital.

Do the parents speak the dominant language fluently?

Do they understand diagnostic terminology?

Do they know how to navigate local support systems?  

Do they have the confidence to challenge a school?

Do they have the time and cognitive bandwidth to read policy documents?

Dutch is my mother tongue. I am educated. Today I have worked in a local support system. I am studying clinical psychology and social work. Through those studies, I have learned how systems function, how policy is shaped, and how change can be initiated.

But when my child first needed support, I did not yet have that institutional knowledge. No one offered structured psycho-education. No one explained what ADHD or dyslexia can mean in a classroom context, how executive functioning affects everyday school demands, or what realistic accommodations might look like. I had to assemble that understanding myself, piece by piece.

If it is this difficult for someone who would later develop institutional literacy, what does it look like for parents who do not have those tools?

Inclusion cannot depend on whether parents are strategic, articulate, and persistent. If that is the entry ticket, the system is structurally unjust.

Layer three: teacher capacity

In primary school, one main teacher often carries the relational weight. In secondary school, the landscape fragments. A child moves from one subject teacher to another. Each teacher sees a slice. No one holds the full picture.

Training varies considerably. Some teachers have strong knowledge of neurodiversity. Others received minimal exposure during teacher education. Some are willing but overwhelmed. Some are defensive because they feel blamed.

Expecting uniform inclusive practice without uniform structural training is unrealistic.  

In the policy proposal I submitted I argued for mandatory professional development and structural embedding of neurodiversity knowledge into teacher education so competence is not optional. If inclusion is a right, competence must be required.

Layer four: school infrastructure

The relationship between teacher and school leadership matters. The relationship between school and school network matters. Funding mechanisms matter.

When extra support depends on diagnosis labels, delays become structural. When resources are scarce, creativity becomes selective. When care coordinators are overloaded, support plans stay theoretical.

In that same policy proposal, I argued that a two-layer funding model can prevent support from becoming a bureaucratic obstacle course. That means baseline automatic funding for inclusion measures at every school, and a second, needs-driven allocation for specialised support, triggered by a short school-led plan rather than compulsory medical reports. That design reduces the incentive to make diagnoses the only access ticket to support.

Universal Design for Learning (CAST, Inc., n.d.) is a powerful starting point because it benefits all students. But universal design alone is insufficient. Some children will still require targeted scaffolding, and that requires time, budget, and accountability.

Based on Universal Design for Learning (UDL) guidelines by CAST

Layer five: communication

This is where things often quietly collapse.

Inclusion does not move in a straight line. It moves through a network.

A child communicates with multiple teachers.

Teachers communicate with each other, sometimes formally, often informally.

Parents speak to teachers, but also to school leadership.

Care coordinators mediate between classroom practice and external guidance.

Schools collaborate with local support systems.

Parents may seek external specialists who then communicate back to schools.

School networks and regional authorities influence what resources are available in the first place.

These actors do not form a chain. They form an ecosystem. Each channel can distort, delay, or dilute information.

When one connection weakens, pressure shifts elsewhere. When information is not shared across levels, each actor sees only a fragment of the picture. The child lives inside the whole system.

When transparency disappears, trust erodes.

In my case, repeated negative communication about my child was framed as something that would be resolved internally. No structural change followed. Frustration grew. I eventually reacted emotionally. That rarely produces better outcomes.  

Dialogue is not a weakness. It is a strategy. But dialogue only works when it is reciprocal and visible.

If systemic change is the goal, conflicts should be resolved through structured processes rather than through ad hoc escalations. That requires scheduled review moments, written agreements, and clear responsibilities, not vague reassurances.

Inclusion is a layered risk

At every layer, things can go right. At every layer, things can go wrong.

A supportive teacher can buffer structural weakness.

A proactive care coordinator can compensate for limited funding. An organised parent can accelerate adjustments.

But resilience should not be required for access to basic support.

When inclusion works only because certain individuals overperform, it is fragile. When those individuals leave, the system collapses again.

That is not inclusion. That is dependency.

Stop preaching to the already converted

Within neurodiversity communities, it is easy to speak to people who already agree. That builds solidarity, but it does not change policy.

Change requires numbers. It requires a coalition. It requires platforms in which parents who lack time, language, or policy literacy are represented by those who do have these tools.

Collective voice shifts power dynamics.

This is not about building a utopia where every group automatically receives what it deserves. That world does not exist. This is about incremental structural shifts that reduce arbitrariness.

If inclusion remains dependent on parental advocacy skills, children without those advocates will continue to fall through.

What inclusion truly requires

It requires predictable psycho-education at diagnosis and at school entry.

It requires low-threshold adjustments from day one, not after months of observation.

It requires structured teacher training and funded time to implement.

It requires transparent funding models that do not hinge solely on medical labels.

It requires parent and pupil representation in advisory structures so lived experience informs policy.

Most of all, it requires shifting the question.

Not: “What is wrong with this child?”

But: “Where does our structure create unnecessary friction?”

When that second question is asked consistently, inclusion stops being a slogan and becomes institutional design.

That is the work ahead.