Three young trees stood in a schoolyard, their branches extended toward the sun, casting bands of shadow on the newly sown grass below. With each passing day, two of them grew stronger, taller, and thicker. Their deep roots built paths that strengthened their foundations to grow.
However, although two of the saplings bloomed, one did not.
A young tree felt further and further from the sun as its peers grew stronger around it. The pride of the young seedling withered with each passing day. With no base developing beneath her, and with little sun shining on her, she lost sight of the sky she had been trying to reach in the first place. As the seasons changed, the sun slowly and silently dimmed, until one day, while no one was looking, all its light was gone.
I find comfort in metaphors. They help me find clarity in the face of challenges. While our family has been going through the complexity of supporting our neurodivergent For my daughter to thrive in our local public school, I have found myself drawing this metaphorical story of three saplings, which has become symbolic for me.
I can't help but wonder how things could have been different for the sapling. What if the tree that wasn't thriving had received more support? What if instead of having to compete with your peers for the sun's attention, you had room to grow in your own way and at your own pace? And why was the sun's seemingly limitless food limited to what the tree could glean from the space it occupied among its peers?
Our daughter was one of 3.7 million children who entered kindergarten in the fall of 2020, and as a result of the timing of the COVID-19 pandemic, He began his public school career remotely. Throughout the school year, she moved around our dining room with her school-issued iPad, standing at the table, sitting on the floor, lying on her stomach, taking movement breaks as she pleased. With art supplies and worksheets scattered everywhere, and her headphones turned off most of the time because she found them “tight,” we didn't think about it; this was remote learning as we knew it. And, like her classmates across the country, she will transition to first grade in the fall of 2021. it was a challenge.
Although he was performing at grade level academically, he experienced increasing challenges with his attention, organization, peer interactions, and behavior at school. When I asked to be evaluated for additional support at school, I was told to give it time. “It's all the kids in this grade,” her teacher said.
While the school waited, we sought external evaluations to explore whether there were supports that would be helpful in reducing the challenges she was experiencing at school. We entered a maze of paperwork, referrals, waiting lists and appointments that eventually, as early as second grade, led to an official diagnosis. The school did the same, developing an initial Individual Education Plan (IEP) and, over the course of the year, making a series of reactionary amendments to try to keep up with its changing needs. Fast forward to this school year. Our daughter is now in third grade and we recently attended her annual meeting to discuss the progress of her IEP.
Her teacher said something to me from across the table that made me stop in my tracks: “Your daughter is taking instructional time away from the other students in my class.”
As an educator, I felt embarrassed by the teacher for doing such able statement at an IEP meeting and, as the parent of a neurodivergent child, I was infuriated.
But the message in the silence of the room that followed his statement was profound.
How is it possible that no one thought it appropriate to say something? Anything?
During follow-up meetings, an administrator dismissed my concerns and said he saw nothing wrong with my daughter's treatment. Another administrator asked me what I wanted them to do: did I want the school to manipulate its environment? Then he said I know too much from the work I do.
She's not wrong. I know better because I've seen better. As director of the Educational collaboration at YaleI have the privilege of working with school leaders and educators across the country who are equity-oriented and committed to finding and implementing research-based practices. My job shows me every day what is possible and I want that for every student. That includes my daughter, who agreed to let me share her story here so that all students like her can be seen and valued at school.
My daughter's school waited for her to fail instead of preparing her to succeed and that has been devastating for her. She has become the sapling of the schoolyard. Unfortunately, we are not alone in this reality.
It's time for all schools to learn how to support neurodivergence
At the beginning of this school year, there were approximately 7.3 million K-12 public school students in the United States who qualified for special education services. It is estimated that more than one in five Children in the US are neurodivergent or have neurodevelopmental differences in how they know, experience and navigate their world, as well as the differences in how they learn, feel, perceive and socialize.
In 2023, the federal government will invest 15.5 billion dollars in implementing evidence-based practices in schools across the country to support special education students, including increased resources to staff and implement diversified instructional practices. Despite the funding, almost all states have had trouble hiring open special education positions to meet the needs of their students, according to the U.S. Department of Education. Importantly, although most students with disabilities spend at least 80 percent of their school day learning in general education classrooms, many general education teachers only take a class learning how to support them in their educational preparation programs.
Neurodivergent students do not need to learn how to learn differently to have a chance to succeed in our nation's public schools; Our nation's public schools need to learn how to educate differently so that all students have the opportunity to succeed. .
Preparing neurodivergent students to be successful starts with accepting them as they are and not comparing them to the student we think they should be. The image of what “good learning” looks like in classrooms has a long legacy of Defend ableist and neuronormative behavior patterns.. Sitting in a chair, still, with both feet on the floor, facing forward and not moving, does not equate to how much a student is learning. Neither is finishing all the problems in a designated time period or being able to fit your thoughts into a small box at the bottom of a worksheet or test.
Our daughter doesn't always make eye contact when absorbing information. And she sometimes she likes to sit in a chair, but other times she likes to move. For her, “good learning” might involve manipulating a toy “Pop it!” while she chews on a crunchy snack, or coloring a picture while she stands leaning on her desk with her hood up.
Like many neurodivergent students, having specific strategies that provide sensory input does not distract her, but focuses her to optimize her learning. Our daughter has been working hard to learn to recognize her needs and use these strategies and many more to share her gifts with the world. Her multitasking superpowers, her compassion, her resourcefulness, and her creative problem solving are traits that will serve it well in the life.
But these strengths will only take you so far in elementary school if the mindset of educators and school leaders does not change. As Evidence-based practices continue to evolve. – including the application of universal design principles to foster inclusive environments where all students have the opportunity to benefit: More educators and leaders must change their thinking and practices to leverage the strengths of all students.
Trying to fit a neurodivergent student into a framework of what “good learning” should look like for a neurotypical student can backfire. Acceptance and affirmation are important, especially for neurodivergent students, who are more likely to have low self-esteem and diminished self-concept. Whether intentional or not, approaches to teaching and discipline based on a ableist mentality may contribute to the likelihood that neurodivergent students will be bullied, stigmatized, victimized, or excluded, experiences from which students cannot always recover.
If we continue to provide all students with the same “this is how we do things” educational approach, neurodivergent students will continue to experience decreased academic performanceincrease punitive disciplinary practices and exclusive placements. One size fits some and benefits fewer (not all students) in education.
Teachers and school leaders must begin to recognize variability in development as the norm. Increasing funding for special education and developing evidence-based practices in the absence of a culture of inclusion that allows students to thrive as they are, rather than who we imagine they could be, is akin to planting new flowers while letting some trees fail. Let us evolve the way we educate in the service of who we educate, so that every tree in every schoolyard is evergreen.
