Inclusive Education
Having designed systems to measure the impact of youth projects, especially those involving disabled children across diverse communities, I believe education is where society most urgently needs to reconsider its objectives, particularly concerning children with disabilities and Special Educational Needs (SEN).
As someone who was diagnosed late in life with Autism and ADHD, and who grew up during the 1960s and 70s when these conditions were neither recognised nor supported, I understand how difficult and often terrifying school can be. It was a chaotic, noisy environment with complex and unspoken social rules. I look back on it without much happiness. In my professional experience, I have met very few children who do not want to learn. More often, those who appear disengaged are not rejecting learning itself but rather rebelling against regimented systems that stifle their curiosity.
If we truly believe that disabled children, particularly those with developmental and learning difficulties, possess real talents and potential, we must build an education system flexible enough to support them. This means creating enabling environments, both within and alongside mainstream schools, where all children can thrive. In doing so, we create a generation of adults able to contribute meaningfully and be valued members of society.
Inclusion, when done well, is positive and enriching. It removes ignorance, reduces discrimination, and fosters empathy among all students. However, there are many instances where inclusion fails to deliver equal opportunities or meaningful social interaction. The root of this issue often lies in how education is structured, delivered, and assessed.
We have become fixated on testing and standardised measurements. As someone who designs impact measurement tools, I understand the value of assessment. But I also believe we should measure what truly matters, not just what is easiest to quantify. We must ask ourselves: should we assess such a diverse range of young people against a single academic standard? Since the introduction of the compulsory national curriculum, teachers have been granted less autonomy, with centralised decisions often made without input from front-line educators. This top-down approach resembles a manufacturing process more than a nurturing learning environment.
Such rigidity stifles the ability of teachers to engage all students, particularly those with creative or vocational talents, or those with developmental needs whose learning styles differ. Too many students are marginalised because they don’t fit the standardised model. I was fortunate to have the resourcefulness and external support to teach myself through museums, libraries, and the guidance of family friends. But not every child has access to such opportunities.
Children need a system that empowers teachers to deliver a more individualised curriculum. This curriculum should be designed to foster independent learning and recognise each child’s unique talents. The national curriculum and assessment tools can still serve as useful frameworks, but they must be applied flexibly, with the child’s needs at the centre.
A starting point would be to give teachers greater freedom to make curriculum decisions based on their own strengths and passions. Releasing this creative energy could revitalise the profession, attract new graduates, and build stronger partnerships between schools and families.
Ultimately, we have a duty to support teachers as individuals and facilitators of learning. Only then can they unleash their full potential a transformation that would benefit not only our children but society.
