Beyond Labels: What We’re All Getting Wrong About Inclusive Education
A patchwork quilt with the message, You Belong.
I’ve just finished a discovery call with an international school in Thailand, and I’m feeling super inspired! Inspired for a few reasons —
Firstly, their overarching aim is to develop a high-performing inclusive school; secondly, they are refreshingly realistic about what that takes, working within a three-to-five-year timeframe and recognising how vital it is to manage change thoughtfully in fast-paced school systems;and thirdly, they’ve already begun laying the groundwork. The team is actively cultivating an inclusive culture and embedding an instructional coaching model to support every educator’s growth.
It reminded me that true inclusion isn’t about quick fixes or one-off interventions — it’s a slow, human process that asks us to reimagine what great teaching really means.
We often imagine that helping a child who is finding things difficult means taking them out of the classroom for specialised support. We think of inclusion as a set of techniques or an intervention delivered by an expert. This common picture, while well-intentioned, misses the bigger, more powerful truth about what makes a classroom work for every single child.
The most profound strategies for creating inclusive environments—the ones that truly benefit all learners—are often surprisingly human, nuanced, and counter-intuitive. They have less to do with rigid programmes and more to do with a fundamental shift in how we see children, teaching, and learning itself. This article explores five paradigm shifts that challenge what we think we know about inclusive education.
The Big Takeaways
The First Paradigm Shift: Inclusion Isn’t a Specialist’s Job—It’s How Every Teacher Teaches, Every Day
There’s a common misconception that inclusion is something done to a classroom by a visiting specialist or an inclusion team — as if inclusive practice arrives from outside rather than being built from within. This way of thinking can unintentionally create over-reliance on external experts and leave teachers feeling that inclusion is someone else’s job.
As one teacher put it during a conversation, “It’s hard to feel like my classroom is inclusive when the inclusion team hasn’t been in for a while.”
This perspective, though understandable, frames inclusion as an external add-on rather than an integral part of teaching. The first crucial shift is to reframe inclusion not as an intervention, but as the foundation of high-quality, everyday practice. It’s embedded in the way a teacher structures a lesson, builds relationships, and provides access to the curriculum for every learner. When we see inclusion as simply good teaching, it becomes everyone’s responsibility. In a genuinely inclusive school, every teacher is an inclusion teacher.
The Second Paradigm Shift: Move from the Label to the Child
Diagnostic terms such as autism or ADHD can offer useful insight into patterns of experience. However, over-reliance on them can lead to a “copy-and-paste” approach that overlooks each child’s individuality. This is more than a philosophical point; in many contexts, it’s a practical necessity. In Thailand, for example, securing a formal diagnosis can be culturally sensitive and may cost the equivalent of £1,000, making it inaccessible for many families.
This reality encourages a more powerful, person-centred approach. Instead of waiting for a label, the focus shifts to observing and understanding the individual. As one expert advises:
“Forget labels. Think about the child.”
This shift recognises the vast diversity within any diagnosis. It moves us from a rigid, categorical mindset to a flexible, human one—perfectly captured by the well-known phrase in the autism community:
“Once you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.”
Seeing the individual child is the first step; the next is understanding the emotional state they bring into the classroom.
The Third Paradigm Shift: A Child’s Sense of Safety Comes Before Any Academic Strategy
There are two parallel models for creating an inclusive classroom. The first is the cognitive model, which includes excellent instructional strategies drawn from the work of experts such as Tom Sherrington and Rosenshine’s Principles of Instruction. Teachers are generally comfortable here—it’s the world of retrieval practice and clear lesson structures. The second is the affective model, which is all about relationships, belonging, and emotional safety. This is the deeper work—and it’s non-negotiable.
A child in a state of threat or defence simply cannot learn. This is especially true for neurodivergent learners. An autistic student’s brain, for instance, is finely attuned to sensory information. When it becomes overloaded by unexpected sounds, sights, or social cues, it can trigger a threat response. At that point, the brain is unavailable for higher-order thinking and memory formation.
Consider the teacher who repeatedly told their pupils, “You have to learn to self-regulate,” while their own face and body language were tense and stressed. Their non-verbal signals contradicted their words, sending pupils’ nervous systems into the very threat state they were trying to prevent. This highlights the importance of co-regulation: the adult’s ability to use their own calm nervous system to help a child feel safe. Co-regulation is the foundation of all learning.
The Fourth Paradigm Shift: The Most Powerful Tool for Change Is Human Attunement
The story of a father in China and his nine-year-old son, who had been described as having ADHD, illustrates this beautifully. The father, shaped by his own cultural upbringing, had tried shouting and punishment. When sharing his story with me, I made a conscious choice to listen without judgement, understanding the cultural context he came from. This compassionate stance created the psychological safety he needed to hear something new.
After learning about emotion coaching, he tried a different approach. For ten minutes, he put his phone away and gave his son his full, undivided attention. He simply attuned to his child—connecting without an agenda. The result was immediate and profound. The father later explained:
“The reason I knew it worked is because when he went on his iPad—usually a point of friction—he came off it straight away instead of us having a fight.”
This small shift from control to connection transformed a long-standing daily struggle. It’s a powerful reminder that our most transformative tool is often our own focused, attuned presence—and that creating the space for others to change is as important as the strategy itself.
The Fifth Paradigm Shift: The Goal Isn’t to Achieve Inclusion; It’s to Stay on the Messy Path
Here’s perhaps the most surprising truth of all. According to inclusion expert Mel Ainscow, schools will “never, ever get to the place where we can say we are an inclusive school.”
This isn’t a statement of failure—it’s a recognition of reality. Human behaviour is infinitely complex, and new sets of needs are always emerging. The work of inclusion is not about reaching a perfect destination; it’s a continuous, often messy process of striving, adapting, and learning.
This understanding makes a slow, steady approach essential. Meaningful change doesn’t come from rushed initiatives that lead to teacher burnout; it unfolds over a three-to-five-year journey. As one leader reflected, strategic patience is key:
“This was meant to be introduced in August—it didn’t happen... we’re going to go even slower.”
Embracing the messy path means choosing sustainable progress over hurried perfection.
Conclusion: Shifting Our Gaze
True inclusion is less about implementing a checklist of technical strategies and more about a profound shift in mindset. It’s about moving our focus from fixing deficits to nurturing relationships; from applying labels to seeing individuals; and from seeking a perfect endpoint to embracing the messy, continuous, and deeply human journey.
It’s in these shifts that we find the path to a classroom that truly works for every child.
What one small change could you make today to move from a mindset of “fixing” to one of “connecting” in your own environment?
