I’ve seen a lot in 17 years. My son has had an individualized, inclusive educational journey, and I’ve encountered educators across the entire K-12 spectrum of inclusion.

I’ve met some innovative educators, special and general alike. My son has endured general educators who believed he had no place in their classroom. I’ve heard the words “your child has no capacity to learn” in a parent-teacher conference. And yet I’ve also spoken with a veteran general educator for whom teaching my son for one semester renewed his passion for his craft. I sat down to lunch with a special educator who wasn’t sure how inclusion was going to work for some of her learners with the most significant support needs, and heard how blown away she was by what she saw once more inclusive practices began at her school. I’ve seen the excitement in the eyes of educators who love this work when my son has made progress, and the many, many times he’s surprised us all.

The educators who’ve listened to me have also taught me things. I remember my favorite principal who taught me that there are no bad days, just bad moments and that looking for an explanation to understand behavior doesn’t mean you’re making an excuse for it.

In the world and work of inclusion, we hear so much from educational experts, advocates, and people with lived experience, all of which has immense value. But the voice of the families often gets treated as the adversarial point of view across the IEP table, the people who need assistance, or the exhausted caregivers.

It’s important to note we serve students best when the process is truly collaborative.

So as educators across the country head back to school, here are my top pieces of advice.

See the student, not the label

I know you’re about to read past this one, but I urge you to keep reading. Many people think they don’t assume or stereotype, but I challenge you to really think about this. What comes to mind when you hear intellectual disability, autism, emotional disability? Do you picture the student, or do you picture the file?

If I had a quarter for every time my son’s schedule, goals, class offerings, and club or sport suggestions matched every other student with his same profile, I’d have retired already. And if one more person suggests rolling silverware to him during this time of transition in high school, one of us might toss a spoon at them. It’s not because he’s above the hospitality industry. He’s just not interested in it.

Take the time at the start of each year to really get to know your students: their strengths, their interests. Students learn better when they feel comfortable, known, and valued. Think about how much better your own week goes when all the right things fall into place.

Students can understand you

Adults often assume students with complex learning needs and communication differences can’t understand as much as they can, and talk about them while they’re sitting right there.

Imagine your boss talking about your job performance to someone else in the room, while you sat there listening. Now imagine it happened a few times a week. How would that shape how you felt about your boss? About yourself?

I’ll take it one step further. The student’s peers understand you too. Think hard about what you say about a student, their disability, or their behavior before you say it in front of their class. I’ve been shocked over the years by comments my daughter has come home and shared, things educators said about her peers. What adults say shapes how kids see each other, especially when they’re young. You are the truth teller in the room.

Belonging often needs a plan

Friendships at any age can be hard. Students from kindergarten through twelfth grade, with and without disabilities, struggle to connect with peers. So it’s no surprise that many students, not all, with complex support needs need help building authentic connections at school.

Authentic peer relationships take structure: guidance on how to include, not just telling peers to be nice.

How are you fostering belonging in your classroom or school? Are you going beyond a buddy program where relationships last 30 minutes every other week?

Independence looks different for everyone

We often measure independence by how closely a task resembles the way we’re used to seeing it done. That measures conformity, not independence. This year, look at your students and ask: what do they need, and want, to be more independent? What does that look like for them?

Because of adult services, we get fixated on fewer supports and accommodations being the goal, but I’m not sure that should always be the case. Some people need those supports for life. Maybe the better question is what a student needs to be independent today, however that looks, and whether that can be faded over time.

And we can’t have growth in the area of independence without allowing for risk. This is an area where educators have taught and pushed me over the years. It’s hard, at times, for any parent to be brave enough to watch your child take risks. But if we don’t allow for the dignity of risk, our students will not fly as far as they are able.

No is a sentence, and autonomy is a skill

Somewhere along the way, we became obsessed with compliance. I understand: we all have to do things we don’t love, and we all have to follow rules. But these parameters get introduced with so much emphasis, so early, for kids with disabilities.

When we focus this hard on compliance, a few things happen.

We measure obedience instead of skill. A student can be praised for following a direction without ever learning why, or how, or when it matters. That’s not learning. That’s training.

We damage the relationship. Every time a child’s “no” gets overridden instead of heard, we teach them their voice doesn’t matter. That erodes trust, and trust is what makes real learning possible.

We put a barrier between the child and the learning itself. A student spending all their energy managing compliance doesn’t have much left over for the task in front of them.

And if we drive compliance at all costs, we take away the one skill that keeps people safe: discernment. A person who’s not allowed to say no doesn’t know how to say no when it matters most. We don’t just fail to teach autonomy. We put people at risk.

What if we spent the same amount of energy teaching critical thinking instead? Compliance asks a student to do something because they were told to. Critical thinking asks them to understand why, and decide for themselves when the answer might be no.

Expect; don’t accept

Years ago, I heard Paul Daugherty speak at a conference. Paul is a sports journalist who wrote An Uncomplicated Life about his daughter Jillian, who has Down syndrome, and “Expect, Don’t Accept” is the through-line of that book.

I love Paul’s way of saying the age-old mantra: presume competence.

When you set high expectations for your students, you recognize their capabilities. Doing that shapes their academic and personal growth, and builds a culture of empowerment in your classroom and beyond.

Better together

Students benefit most when educators and families listen to them, learn from each other, and work together. Not you handing down accommodations, not us handing down advice, but all of us listening to the person this is actually about.

Head into your classroom this year, pick one (or several) of these inclusive classroom strategies, and try it. Then tell me how it goes, and tell me what the student showed you along the way.