A huge thank you to Bekah for offering to read and review RECAP founder, Lucie Wheeler's book: Neurodiversity Through the Educational Years: Lived Experiences, Research and Practice. Bekah Gear is the founder and director or Education in First Gear a community interest company designed to support practitioners across the sector access high quality training, research and coaching. She is also a senior lecturer and practitioner‑researcher whose work sits at the intersection of both children’s agency and practitioner agency. She is passionate about research that grows from real practice, which values the everyday decisions, dilemmas, and possibilities that shape children and young people's experiences. Her work champions practitioners as researchers and positions practice as a powerful driver of meaningful research and change. As teacher and learner, there are books I have read because they offer practical advice or provocations for practice. I’ve also read books that feel like they tell the truth, those real, complicated, sometimes uncomfortable stories of the children and young people our education system should be doing better for. Lucie Wheeler’s Neurodiversity Through the Educational Years serves both categories. It’s not a policy manual, nor a glossy celebration of inclusion. It is a mirror that has been held up to our systems, our assumptions, and sometimes uncomfortably, to our own practice. As someone who has spent years straddling the line between practitioner, researcher, and neurodivergent adult, this book really resonated with me. It’s rare to find an educational book that speaks simultaneously to your professional brain and your lived experience, but Lucie manages it with a clarity that is both gentle and uncompromising. What she offers in her book, is not another theoretical discourse on SEND. It is a tapestry woven from the voices of parents, children, and young people. These are voices that are too often diluted or even dismissed. It is precisely this commitment to lived experience that makes the book not only important, but necessary to our understanding of inclusion as both a state of being and doing. Listening Without Interrogating One of the most striking aspects of Lucie’s approach to the book is her refusal to treat contributors as data points. Instead, she has listened to what families are saying, and to what sits beneath their words. In a system obsessed with evidence, metrics, and progress measures, this feels forward thinking in its approach. The stories she shares are not tidy. They are not curated for comfort. They are messy, emotional, contradictory, and incredibly human. They reflect the reality of navigating education when your child’s needs do not fit neatly into the structures designed to contain them. As I read the book, I found myself returning to my own experiences. Many moments of being misunderstood, of masking so effectively that I disappeared, of being praised for compliance that was actually distress. Lucie’s contributors articulate these experiences with a clarity that is both validating and devastating at times and really make you stop and rethink the realities of inclusive classroom practice. The second chapter “hiding in plain sight”, lingered with me long after I closed the book. It captures something so many neurodivergent people can relate to, that exhausting endeavour of appearing fine. A System That Still Doesn’t Know What It Doesn’t Know The book’s early chapters explore late or missed identification, masking, and misinterpreted behaviour, which are issues we know that remain stubbornly persistent across the sector. Lucie situates these stories within the wider legislative and policy landscape, however never lets the policy overshadow the people. Her discussion of the Equality Act (2010) is particularly sharp. She notes that neurodiversity is not named explicitly in the legislation, leaving neurodivergent children protected only through deficit‑based definitions of disability. The book also highlights the staggering delays in autism assessment with over 250,000 individuals waiting, with more than 90% exceeding recommended timeframes. These aren’t just numbers; they are our children and young people living in limbo, families navigating need without recognition, and schools trying to offer support without the tools they require. As someone who has previously worked as a primary and early years teacher and leader and now the privilege of supporting trainee teachers, I see the consequences of this every day. We ask teachers to adapt their practice and to personalise but we rarely give them the training, time, or systemic support to do so meaningfully. The chapter on the “teacher lottery” captures this perfectly exploring the difference one adult can make, and the devastation when that adult is absent. The Emotional Labour of Parenting in a System Not Built for You Perhaps the most powerful chapter for me was the one centred on parental advocacy. It is rare that as a teacher we ever truly gain the time or opportunity to understand the magnitude of this. The emotional labour described is immense, from navigating meetings, assessments, exclusions, and endless paperwork, all while trying to protect your child’s wellbeing and identity. Parents in the book speak of exhaustion, of feeling dismissed, of being labelled “difficult” simply for asking that their child’s needs be met. However, they also speak of hope, of resilience, of the fierce love that keeps them pushing against systems that were never designed with their children in mind. Alternative Pathways: Not a Last Resort, but a Legitimate Route One of the book’s strengths is its refusal to treat alternative provision or home education as failures. Instead, Lucie presents them as valid, effective pathways for many neurodivergent learners. She frames them as routes that allow children to thrive outside the constraints of mainstream expectations. This is refreshing. Too often, AP and home education are framed as “last resorts,” when in reality they can be lifelines. The stories in this book show children rediscovering joy, curiosity, and self-worth once removed from environments that were harming them. As someone who has worked with families choosing home education out of necessity rather than preference, I appreciated Lucies honesty and integrity as she navigates this aspect. She does not romanticise these pathways, but she does recognise their value simultaneously with the systemic failures that push families toward them. A Call to Action, Not a Catalogue of Problems Wheeler does not simply expose the cracks in the system; she offers practical suggestions for change. Her reflective prompts remind us that inclusion is not a grand gesture; it is a series of small, intentional acts. The final chapters, focusing on transitions, are particularly useful. Transitions are flashpoints for neurodivergent learners, and Lucie’s insights here should be required reading for every teacher, SENCO, and leader. My final reflections- why you need to read this book! Neurodiversity Through the Educational Years is not comfortable reading, but it is essential. It has been designed to collectively challenges our community, from professionals, to parents, to policymakers, in order to make us confront the ways our systems fail neurodivergent children and young people, and to imagine something better. For me, it reaffirmed something I have long believed that neurodivergent voices must be central to changes within inclusive practice, not simply consulted. They must shape our practice, not simply inform it. This book does this with integrity, compassion, and rigour. You can buy Neurodiversity Through the Educational Years: Lived Experiences, Research and Practice here: Amazon Emerald Publishing And if you want to review it, you can request a copy here

Jayne Carter is the Early Years Programme Development Lead at Partnership for Children, an international charity dedicated to supporting children’s mental and emotional wellbeing, and Director of Ignite Education Ltd. With extensive experience in early years education, Jayne specialises in helping practitioners develop children’s emotional language, resilience and self-regulation through practical, research-informed approaches. Using a respectful and supportive coaching model, she works with educators and leaders to evaluate provision, implement innovative practice and create emotionally rich environments where children feel seen, understood and empowered. Jayne provides consultancy, training and professional development, drawing on real-world case studies to support meaningful and sustainable change. She has contributed to practitioner resources, research publications and professional learning initiatives, and has a particular interest in how educators navigate curriculum reform while maintaining child-centred, democratically informed practice. Her work is focused on empowering both practitioners and young children to thrive within inclusive, reflective and nurturing learning communities. On a busy nursery morning, leadership is often found in the small moments: a calm word, a reassuring glance, or the way someone steps in to support a colleague before being asked. We can talk about early years leadership through policies, frameworks and expectations, but what really brings those things to life is the quality of the relationships in the room. When people feel listened to, respected and part of something shared, consistency begins to feel less like a rule and more like a team commitment. That is where leadership becomes practical, human and meaningful. Leadership begins with relationships, instead of systems Systems are useful. They give people clarity and help everyone move in the same direction. But systems on their own are not enough. In the early years, so much of the work depends on relationships. Children learn through them, practitioners teach through them, and leaders need to work through them too. Good leadership means creating a culture where practitioners feel seen, trusted and supported. It is hard to offer calm, thoughtful care to children when you do not feel cared for yourself. A handbook can set out expectations, but it is the day-to-day behaviour of leaders that shows people what those expectations really mean. This might look like: • listening with genuine curiosity • noticing emotional cues and responding with care • creating spaces where practitioners can speak openly about challenges • valuing the emotional labour of early years work When relationships are strong, consistency becomes something the team holds together, rather than something a manager has to keep asking for. Clarity is kind: making expectations visible Shared language and shared expectations matter, but they work best when people have been part of shaping them. Clarity does not need to feel heavy-handed. At its best, it helps everyone understand what matters, why it matters and how they can contribute. Clear expectations can reduce uncertainty and make the work feel more manageable. They give practitioners confidence, because people are not left guessing what good practice should look like. In that sense, clarity is not about control; it is a form of support. In practice, this means: • co creating expectations with the team • revisiting principles regularly so they stay alive • using shared language to reduce ambiguity • ensuring everyone understands not just what we do, but why we do it When clarity is kind, it strengthens professional confidence and deepens collective ownership. Reflective cultures are intentionally nurtured Reflection is a big part of early years practice, but it does not need to feel formal or intimidating. Often, the most useful reflection happens in short conversations: after a tricky moment, during a team discussion or when someone asks, “What did we notice?” or “What could we try next time?” Reflection is not about catching people out. It is about helping practitioners notice what is working, think through what feels difficult and grow in confidence over time. A strong reflective culture helps practitioners to: make their thinking visible through honest professional dialogue strengthen their confidence and professional identity see themselves as thoughtful contributors to practice, not simply as people applying guidance approach their work with curiosity, agency and evidence-informed judgement When reflection becomes part of everyday practice, practitioners start to see their own thinking more clearly. They become more confident in observing, interpreting and shaping learning with purpose. Evidence-informed, not evidence-imposed Frameworks are helpful, but they are not scripts. Effective leaders use evidence to guide practice, while still paying attention to the children, families and community in front of them. Research matters, but so does the knowledge and experience of the practitioners using it every day. This means: drawing on research without losing sight of the children in front of us adapting frameworks to fit the setting, not the other way around valuing practitioner knowledge as part of the evidence base encouraging critical thinking rather than compliance When leaders treat practitioners as thoughtful professionals, rather than people simply following instructions, they make space for curiosity, confidence and good judgement. Consistency grows through collective ownership Children need routines and responses they can trust. That does not mean every adult has to sound exactly the same or do everything in exactly the same way. Consistency is strongest when the team understands the shared principles behind their practice and feels ownership of them. Leaders can build that ownership by: involving practitioners in shaping approaches using collaborative tools to align practice ensuring everyone understands the rationale behind decisions creating opportunities for practitioners to lead aspects of practice When practitioners feel ownership, consistency becomes more sustainable. It is no longer something leaders have to enforce; it becomes something the team upholds together. Wellbeing is a leadership responsibility, not a bonus Children’s wellbeing is closely linked to practitioner wellbeing. Early years work asks a lot from people emotionally and that needs to be recognised. Protecting wellbeing is not a nice extra; it is part of keeping practice thoughtful, calm and responsive. Leaders can support wellbeing by: setting realistic expectations leading with emotional literacy valuing rest, boundaries and professional joy reducing unnecessary pressure and administrative load When the team is supported, children feel the difference too. A settled, valued team is better able to create a settled and nurturing environment for children. A thriving team creates thriving children. Leadership is a pedagogical act In the early years, leadership is not separate from practice. Every decision a leader makes affects the atmosphere of the setting, the confidence of the team and the experiences children have each day. Leadership shapes how people work together and that shapes how children experience belonging, curiosity and joy. This means leaders need to: think about team development as impacting curriculum and support treat professional learning as a relational process see leadership as part of the learning journey, not above it align leadership behaviours with the same principles that underpin high-quality early years practice At its best, early years leadership is practical, relational and deeply human. It is about creating the conditions where adults feel trusted and children feel secure. When leaders focus on relationships, clarity, reflection, ownership and wellbeing, expectations stop being words on a page. They become part of the everyday culture of the setting where both children and practitioners can flourish. You can connect with Jayne over on Linked In Find Jayne's book here

Lucie Wheeler is the Founder of RECAP and a Research Fellow at Anglia Ruskin University. I visit and work with lots of different education settings, and one of the things I am always interested in is what a school feels like. Yes we know that policies are important, and the curriculum a school provides is key and the way they do their provision is huge. But there are some things that are much harder to capture on paper: the interactions in the corridors, the relationships between adults and children, whether children appear comfortable approaching members of staff, and whether you get a genuine sense that people belong there. Recently, I was invited by Lucy Fox, Assistant Headteacher, to spend some time at Stoke Primary School in Coventry. During my visit, I met with Lucy alongside Headteacher Matthew Ascroft and Sarah Morris, Head of Inclusion, and had the opportunity to talk about the school's approach before being shown around both the main school and its Early Years provision. And I came away genuinely inspired. A team with a real passion for inclusion One of the strongest things I took from my visit was the passion of the leadership team. It is probably one of the most passionate teams I have met when it comes to creating a school where inclusion, welcome and belonging are not simply things written into policies, but something they are actively trying to build into everyday school life. And importantly, that sense of belonging wasn't spoken about only in relation to pupils. There was a real emphasis on creating a community in which children, staff and families all feel that they have a place. We talk a lot about inclusion in education, but genuine inclusion isn't just about providing additional support for a child who needs it. It is about thinking carefully about environments, relationships, teaching, communication and the structures around children so that as many children as possible can participate and feel successful. Stoke's own curriculum reflects this. The school describes inclusion as a cornerstone of its approach, with learning adapted and scaffolded so children can access the curriculum regardless of their individual starting points. There is also an emphasis on recognising the diversity of the school community and creating a culture in which children and families feel valued. But what impressed me most was seeing how those ideas translated into everyday interactions. Relationships everywhere you look As we walked around the school, one thing became apparent very quickly and that was that the adults knew the children. Matthew, Lucy and Sarah seemed to know every child we passed, and the children clearly knew them too. Children were comfortable stopping to talk. There were conversations in corridors, smiles, little exchanges and moments of connection that might seem insignificant in isolation but, collectively, told me a great deal about the culture of the school. Every classroom we entered felt warm, welcoming and inviting. I also really enjoyed having the opportunity to speak with some of the teaching staff about how they organise their classrooms and adapt what they do to get the best from the children in their care. There wasn't a sense that every classroom had to look or operate in exactly the same way. Instead, there seemed to be thought behind how spaces and approaches could work for the particular children using them. Even walking through the corridors, there was a strong sense of positivity, care and encouragement. For me, these everyday interactions are such an important part of inclusion. Children need to know that the adults around them see them, know them and are pleased that they are there. Learning beyond four walls Another thing that really stood out was the school's use of its environment. Stoke explicitly states within its curriculum that learning should extend beyond classroom walls, with the school making use of the whole building, outdoor spaces, Forest School and other learning areas. You can see that philosophy when you walk around. I was particularly impressed by the outdoor provision. The classrooms really did feel as though they extended beyond four walls rather than the outside being somewhere children simply visited at breaktime. This begins right from Early Years, where children are encouraged to learn through play, exploration, activity and creative and critical thinking, both indoors and outside. The school's Early Years approach also includes experiences such as growing food, engaging with the local community and learning about health, wellbeing and self-care. That emphasis on exploration and meaningful experiences continues into the school's wider thinking about teaching and learning. The Roundhouse: what happens when we take the screens away? One of the absolute highlights of my visit was seeing The Roundhouse. The Roundhouse is a unique learning environment used by Reception children. Each class spends part of the year using it as their main learning space, and its development has led Stoke to explore something particularly interesting: screen-free learning in Early Years. The school has intentionally moved away from screen-led teaching within its Early Years provision, prioritising interaction, communication and hands-on experiences instead. And I loved seeing this in practice. Rather than relying on interactive whiteboards and digital presentations, learning in The Roundhouse centres around conversation, storytelling, role play, music, movement, books, objects, artefacts and exploration. Language and communication sit at the heart of the approach, with adults using interactions to model vocabulary, encourage children to explain their thinking and create opportunities for sustained shared thinking. As a researcher, what I particularly liked about this wasn't simply that it was "screen free". It was the thinking behind it. Removing the screen hadn't meant removing learning opportunities. Instead, it had prompted the team to think differently about how those opportunities could be created. It is a really interesting example of a school being prepared to question its own practice, try something different, observe what happens and continue learning from it. The Aviary: support without separation becoming the default Another incredibly important part of my visit was spending time in The Aviary. The Aviary is Stoke's specialist provision for pupils with additional learning and communication needs. It provides a structured and nurturing environment, with personalised learning, small-group teaching, communication and language development, sensory-aware spaces, social and emotional support and opportunities to develop independence and life skills. But again, reading a description of provision and actually experiencing the space are two very different things. The children I saw there appeared happy, comfortable and cared for. I loved the flexibility around how the space could be used. For some children, The Aviary provides the level of support they need throughout their school day. For others, access can be more fluid – providing additional support or a place to regulate during more challenging periods while still enabling them to spend time learning alongside peers within the wider school community where appropriate. I really liked that! Inclusion doesn't have to mean that every child is physically present in the same classroom every minute of every day. Sometimes inclusion means recognising that a child needs something different at that particular moment. A quieter environment. More individualised support. A different way of communicating. Time to regulate. A smaller group... And then, where it works for that child, opportunities to reconnect with their wider peer group. The important question here is "Does this child have what they need to belong, participate and thrive?" The Aviary felt like a really thoughtful example of that principle. Inclusion is something you experience I think that is probably my biggest reflection from the day. Schools can tell us that they are inclusive. They can write it into policies, websites and vision statements. But inclusion is ultimately something that children and families experience. It is in whether a child feels safe approaching their headteacher in the corridor. It is in whether an adult understands that regulation may need to come before learning. It is in whether environments can change when children need something different. It is in whether outdoor spaces are recognised as legitimate places for learning. It is in whether staff feel able to question established practice and ask, could we do this differently? And it is in whether children get the sense that the adults around them genuinely know and care about them. That was what I saw repeatedly during my time at Stoke. The school's stated aim is to inspire children through creative approaches to the curriculum, helping them become lifelong learners with high aspirations for their futures. Its values – being solution focused, truthful, optimistic, kind and empathetic – are displayed prominently on its website. From my short time there, what struck me was how much of that philosophy could be seen in the everyday life of the school. There will never be one model of inclusion that works perfectly for every school or every child. Contexts are different, communities are different and children's needs are different. But there is so much value in seeing schools that are prepared to keep asking questions, experimenting with their practice and thinking creatively about what their children need. I left Stoke with lots to think about – which, for me, is always the sign of a worthwhile visit. You can find out more about Stoke Primary School, including their work around The Roundhouse and The Aviary. I also captured some of my visit on video, so head over to the RECAP social channels to see the reel and have a little look around Stoke with me. Finally, a huge thank you to Matthew, Lucy, Sarah and the wider Stoke team for inviting me in, sharing your work so openly and taking so much time out of your day to talk to me. You made me feel incredibly welcome and very much part of the Stoke family for the day. Thank you for having me.

Emma Jones is a SEND consultant, SpLD teacher and Associate Lecturer in Education. She delivers inclusion and neurodiversity training to health and social care professionals and is a trustee for Space4Autism. Her work focuses on improving social understanding and advocacy for neurodivergent people. Emma is passionate about inclusion and ensuring every child's right to a high-quality, enjoyable and relational education. I quit my job as a mainstream class teacher and SENDCo for many reasons, but by far the greatest was the feeling that I was always failing children. I was trying to put out the fire from within the house. I couldn’t defend children against a failing system whilst I was still part of it. So, I branched into SEND roles that allow me to have a wider systemic impact, alongside teaching roles that let me support children as individuals. Whilst in school, I fought desperately to stop children getting lost in the system. Many found their way with the right support, but a few still stand out as particularly heartbreaking because of the extent to which the system made them look broken, when it was that same system at fault. It has always fascinated me how we, as adults, naturally gravitate towards different careers, lifestyles and environments. Some people thrive in offices, but others couldn't imagine anything worse. Some need constant variety, whilst others love routine. Some build things with their hands, and others spend their days analysing data. We accept these differences as perfectly normal. In fact, society depends on them. Yet when it comes to children, we often expect the opposite. We place them in the same environment, ask them to learn the same things, in the same way and at the same pace, then wonder why some flourish while others struggle. The same contradiction exists in the way we think about movement and behaviour. Adults fidget, doodle during meetings, make endless cups of tea and wander over to colleagues' desks because that's how many of us regulate our attention. Some choose physically demanding jobs because sitting still all day would drain the life out of them. Yet children are often expected to remain seated for hours, and some are punished for responding to the same needs we quietly accommodate in ourselves. Our curriculum reflects a similar desire for uniformity. There is, of course, value in ensuring every child leaves school with a broad foundation of knowledge. Literacy, numeracy and a shared understanding of the world open doors and help people participate fully in society. But beyond that, it becomes harder to justify expecting every child to learn the same things, at the same time, in the same way, regardless of their experiences, interests or developmental stage. As adults, we're usually comfortable acknowledging that we're all different. We know our strengths, our weaknesses and the environments in which we do our best work. Yet when we assess children, those differences often become deficits rather than differences. When we combine all these layers of standardisation, we create a system in which some children have little chance of thriving, despite the extraordinary efforts of the adults around them. I've seen exceptionally talented children spend hours in interventions designed to close gaps, when the system had simply failed to recognise where they already excelled. I've seen children labelled as underachieving when they were developing at a different, but equally valid, pace. The hardest cases are those who struggle not only academically but socially and emotionally. Again, these children are often offered interventions to fix them when they were never the problem. They are fish out of water and their flailing is inevitable. Of course, interventions absolutely have their place. Helping a child develop literacy, communication or social understanding can transform their opportunities, provided that support is delivered in a child-centred, inclusive way. Educators work incredibly hard to give children the best possible chance. But I often wonder how much easier life would be if we spent less time changing children to fit the system, and more time changing the system to fit children. There was one conversation I had repeatedly with several families in my time as SENCo: "Will my child always struggle like this?" a parent would ask. "No," I would say. "I genuinely don't think they will." "I think they'll leave school, find an environment that values the way they think, and realise they're actually very good at something. They'll find people who appreciate them, work that suits them and a place where their strengths make sense." I believed that every time I said it. The difficult part was knowing that, before they reached that point, they still had years left in a system that often measured them by how closely they resembled everyone else. This all sounds extremely negative, but recognising this problem also points us towards a solution. Rather than asking only how we can help a child pass their Year 6 SPaG test or achieve a particular GCSE grade, we should spend more time asking a different question: Where is this child trying to go? Not because childhood is simply preparation for adulthood. It isn't. Children's lives matter now. Their friendships, interests, wellbeing and sense of belonging are every bit as important as the people they'll become. But school was never meant to be the destination. The curriculum, assessments and qualifications are vehicles. They are tools that help children travel. Sometimes they're exactly the right vehicle. Sometimes they need adapting. Sometimes another route will get a child much further. If we mistake the vehicle for the destination, we end up measuring children by how well they fit school, rather than asking whether school is helping them become who they are. For some children, the most useful route will be an academic one leading to university. For others, it might involve vocational learning, creative pathways, supported employment, entrepreneurship or skills that don't fit neatly into a national curriculum. Some children need alternative ways to communicate what they know. Others need more time. Others simply need adults who can see beyond the next assessment point. The destination is different for every child. School is the vehicle, not the destination. Our responsibility isn't to produce children who fit one narrow definition of success. It's to build an education system flexible enough to help every child travel towards a future that is uniquely their own. Connect with Emma here: Linked In: www.linkedin.com/in/emma-jones-322a77166 Website: https://www.brighterdayseducation.co.uk/

Lucie Wheeler is a Research Fellow at Anglia Ruskin University and Founder of RECAP. She is currently leading the pre-pilot phase of Unlocking Heritage, a collaborative project with English Heritage and Anglia Ruskin University exploring how heritage sites can better engage and support home educating families. When people hear the word research, they often imagine surveys, statistics and long reports. But some of the most valuable research begins with something much simpler. Listening. Over the past few weeks, I've had the privilege of travelling to Carlisle, Scarborough and Corbridge to meet home educating families as part of the pre-pilot phase of my latest research project, Unlocking Heritage. Working in partnership with English Heritage and Anglia Ruskin University, the project aims to explore how heritage sites can become more welcoming, accessible and meaningful for home educating families. At this stage, we haven't started the research pilot project - we're still seeking funding outcomes to deliver the full pilot later this year. These visits were part of what we have called the pre-pilot phase - listening before designing. Starting with the people who matter - Home Educating Families One of the biggest mistakes organisations can make is assuming they already know what people need. It's easy to think that because you've worked with families before, or because something works well for schools, it will naturally work for everyone else. Home education challenges that assumption. Every family I spoke to was different: Different educational philosophies. Different reasons for home educating. Different children's interests. Different support needs. And yet, despite all of those differences, some remarkably consistent themes emerged. It isn't about creating "special" heritage experiences Very few families asked for completely new activities. Instead, they asked for more flexibility. They wanted heritage organisations to understand that home education doesn't usually happen according to a timetable or a curriculum plan. One parent summed it up perfectly when explaining why booking educational visits weeks in advance can be difficult: "We don't know what our children will be interested in six weeks from now." For many home educating families, learning follows curiosity. A child's fascination with Romans, castles or archaeology might last a weekend - or six months. Being able to respond to those interests is one of the strengths of home education. Current booking systems don't always make that easy. Heritage is about much more than history Another thing that really stood out was how families described their visits. They weren't talking about ticking off curriculum objectives. Their visits were about about spending time together, building memories, exploring, asking questions, running around and playing. "Children don't want to just be learning all day." Learning doesn't only happen when someone is being formally taught. Children learn through climbing castle walls (or wishing they could!), pretending to be knights, dressing up, asking impossible questions and noticing tiny details that adults often overlook. Learning and enjoyment aren't opposites. They're often the same thing. The children had some of the best ideas Whenever adults are asked about improving services, we naturally hear adult perspectives. One of my favourite parts of these visits was asking children what they thought. Their ideas were imaginative, practical and wonderfully honest. They wanted: More dressing up. Archery. Treasure hunts. Climbing opportunities. More people in historical costume. Places where history felt alive. One child suggested: "The dead people should come alive and guide us around the castle." I absolutely loved that! Behind the humour is a really important message though... children want immersive experiences. They don't just want to be told history. They want to feel part of it. Small changes can make a big difference Some of the most powerful discussions centred around inclusion. Parents spoke about booking systems that unintentionally reflected school assumptions. Others talked about having children of different ages, making age-restricted activities difficult to access. Families of autistic children described both brilliant examples of inclusive practice and experiences that left them feeling excluded. One parent shared how a member of staff quietly handed them a sensory bag without drawing attention to their child. "No fuss," they said. "It made all the difference." Inclusion isn't about expensive resources, it's about understanding and feeling seen. Listening before leading And actually, my biggest takeaway wasn't about heritage at all. It was about research. As researchers, we can spend months reading literature, analysing policy and reviewing existing evidence. And yes, that is important. But nothing replaces sitting down with people over a cup of coffee and asking: "Tell me about your experiences." Many of the conversations I had confirmed things I'd read. Others completely challenged my assumptions. That's exactly what good research should do! What happens next? The community listening visits have already shaped the funding application for the main pilot. Ideas shared by families have directly influenced proposed activities, staff training, resources and project design. If funding is successful, the next phase will include a national survey, focus groups and co-produced activity workshops with families and English Heritage staff. The aim isn't to create new activities, it's to develop a better understanding of how heritage organisations can work alongside home educating communities to make historic places feel welcoming, flexible and relevant. If there's one thing these visits have taught me, it's this: The answers don't always sit in policy documents or academic journals. Sometimes they come from a child who wants Romans to come alive. Or a parent explaining why flexibility matters. Or a family simply saying they want heritage sites to be places where they can learn, explore and belong together. And that's exactly why listening should always come first. Thank you to all the families who spoke with me as part of my visits - your stories are what shapes this work! If you are a home educating family in England and you want to hear about how you can get involved when the pilot goes live, pop your email on this form and I will be in touch: https://forms.gle/o6ek4LdfyZc7XpMz7

Bekah Gear is a senior lecturer and practitioner‑researcher whose work sits at the intersection of both children’s agency and practitioner agency. She is passionate about research that grows from real practice, which values the everyday decisions, dilemmas, and possibilities that shape children and young people's experiences. Her work champions practitioners as researchers and positions practice as a powerful driver of meaningful research and change. Independence, curiosity and childled learning are often described as cornerstones of best practice within early childhood practice. Yet, sometimes when we pause and look closely at our children’s outdoor experiences, we see how easily these principles can be constrained by adult routines, riskaverse language and the way environments are organised. The Outdoor Agency Toolkit, developed through a ClosetoPractice (CtP) (BERA 2018) inquiry at Nottingham Trent University, was created to help practitioners, leaders and childminders rethink their outdoor provision. While it is underpinned by research and theory, its strength lies in being practical, adaptable and rooted in our children’s lived experiences. Keeping Experience at the Forefront One of the most important reminders the toolkit offers is that children are not unequally able but unequally experienced. Their hesitations outdoors, whether that be avoiding climbing, messy play or certain equipment, are certainly not deficits, but reflections of the experiences and messages they have absorbed at home and in early childhood settings. By keeping experience at the forefront of our practice, we can respond with empathy, scaffold confidence and gradually widen opportunities. The toolkit provides tools to help practitioners notice these patterns and plan responsively, ensuring outdoor provision honours the diverse backgrounds children bring with them. Practical Tools for Everyday Use The toolkit is designed for immediate application across different contexts, from large nurseries to small childminding or even home environments. It includes: PhotoVoice Tools – giving children cameras to capture what they value or avoid outdoors, helping practitioners see the environment through children’s eyes. RiskPositive Practice Pack – language prompts that reframe risk as part of learning, encouraging children to assess and manage challenge rather than avoid it. Adult Role Cards – supporting practitioners to adopt roles such as facilitator, colearner, observer and risk supporter. Environmental Enhancers – practical ideas for making spaces choicerich, openended, flexible and designed for independence. Home–School Alignment Materials – helping families understand the importance of independence and manageable risk, reducing mixed messages for children. These resources are not prescriptive checklists but reflective lenses, encouraging practitioners to adapt them to their own settings and revisit them over time. Bridging Policy and Practice Recent revisions to the EYFS Framework (DfE, 2024) and Development Matters (DfE, 2023) now make no explicit reference to agency. This risks a disconnect between policy and practice, narrowing provision towards outcomes and compliance rather than autonomy and exploration. The toolkit aims to help practitioners bridge this gap by keeping the lived experiences of children experiences at the centre. It offers a way to reclaim agency as a lived entitlement, ensuring that outdoor spaces remain places of confidence, independence and possibility, even when policy language is silent. For practitioners in nursery and school settings, the toolkit strengthens reflective practice by encouraging them to pause, step back, observe and notice the subtle messages their language and routines may be sending. For childminders, who often balance intimate homebased environments with outdoor play, it offers practical strategies to celebrate independence, encourage manageable risk and create spaces where children’s voices shape their experiences. Grounded in ClosetoPractice research, the toolkit ultimately bridges theory and everyday action, making research meaningful and accessible for all professionals. Most importantly, it supports a culture of agency, gently reminding us that children flourish when we trust them to take risks, make choices and influence their environment. A Call to early childhood practitioners Outdoor spaces are not inherently liberating; they become liberating when adults adopt a stance of trust, curiosity and responsiveness. The Outdoor Agency Toolkit is an invitation: to listen more closely, to step back more often, and to trust more deeply in children’s capabilities. By keeping experience at the forefront of what we do, and by recognising that children are differently experienced rather than differently able, we can ensure that every child’s outdoor journey is one of confidence, independence and agency. The toolkit is freely available to download via Nottingham Trent University. https://www.ntu.ac.uk/study-and-courses/academic-schools/social- sciences/working-with-nottingham-institute-of-education/research- degrees/reimagining-outdoor-learning Rebekah Gear Senior Lecturer at Nottingham Trent University References 1. BERA, 2018. Close to practice educational research: A BERA statement. London: British Educational Research Association. Available at: www.bera.ac.uk/publication/bera-statement-on-close-to-practice-research [Accessed 15 April 2026]. 2. Department for Education, 2023. Development matters. Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/development-matters--2 [Accessed 15 April 2026]. 3. Department for Education, 2024. Statutory framework for the early years foundation stage: Setting the standards for learning, development and care for children from birth to five. Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/early-years- foundation-stage-framework--2 [Accessed 15 April 2026].

Dr Kim Collett holds a PhD in Education and is an Associate Lecturer, researcher and advocate specialising in inclusive education and special educational needs and disabilities (SEND). Her passion for inclusion comes from her own experiences of being a child with a label of SEND and from navigating life as a neurodivergent and disabled parent in a neurodiverse household. Kim has worked in universities for over 15 years after her early career saw her working in the charity sector supporting neurodiverse and disabled people, and raising awareness of the importance of an inclusive society. There have been lots of headlines and conversations suggesting that too many children are being diagnosed with additional needs. This is causing concern as it implies that children are being labelled unnecessarily or that support is being misused. But when we look more closely, we can see that these headlines are misleading. Rather than too many diagnoses, the evidence suggests that many children aren’t being identified or supported early enough. First things first: does a child actually need a diagnosis? This is a question many parents ask and the answer isn’t always straightforward. In the UK, schools are supposed to provide support based on need, not on whether a child has a formal diagnosis. In theory, this means your child shouldn’t have to wait for an official label before getting help in the classroom. In practice, though, it doesn’t always work like that. A diagnosis can be helpful because it: ● Opens doors to certain services and specialist support ● Helps teachers understand your child more consistently ● Gives a shared language for discussing strengths and challenges ● Provides reassurance for children and families There can also be confusion as some schools or services may believe (incorrectly) that a diagnosis is required before offering support. This often leads to delays, with families feeling stuck waiting for assessments rather than seeing immediate help. So while a diagnosis isn’t technically required, it can make a difference in how easily and quickly support is put in place. What happens when children aren’t identified? One of the most important things to understand is that not recognising a child’s needs can have consequences. Children may: ● Lose confidence in their abilities ● Start to believe they are “not good enough” ● Feel frustrated or overwhelmed at school ● Be misunderstood as disengaged, lazy, or disruptive Difficult experiences in education can also shape how a person feels about learning, work, and themselves well into adulthood. For many getting a diagnosis isn’t about labels but helps explain patterns, reduces self-blame, and provides a way forward. So, are children being “overdiagnosed”? It’s true that more children are being diagnosed with things like dyslexia, ADHD, and other neurodivergent profiles than in the past. But this doesn’t necessarily mean diagnoses are being handed out too easily. A more accurate way to think about it is that we’ve simply got better at noticing what was always there. One useful comparison is with astronomy. When telescopes improved, scientists suddenly “discovered” many more stars. But those stars hadn’t appeared overnight, we just didn’t have the tools to see them before. The same idea applies here. With improved awareness, training, and assessment methods, differences in how children learn and process information are easier to identify than they used to be. In other words, the increase in diagnoses reflects better understanding not a sudden surge in children having needs. The bigger issue - underdiagnosis While public conversations currently focus on “too many” diagnoses, the evidence suggests many children are still being missed. Take dyslexia as an example. Estimates suggest that around three children in an average classroom may be dyslexic but less than a quarter of those children are formally identified. That delay can make learning much harder than it needs to be and has been shown to impact grade as well as confidence. ADHD shows a similar pattern. A large number of people in the UK are thought to have ADHD without a diagnosis. Certain groups, particularly girls and children from marginalised backgrounds, are especially likely to be overlooked. This is often because their traits don’t match outdated stereotypes of what ADHD “looks like.” When children are not recognised, the consequences can include: ● Lower academic outcomes ● Higher stress and anxiety ● Being misunderstood by adults and peers The importance and limits of labels It’s completely normal to have mixed feelings about diagnoses. On one hand, they can be empowering. They can offer clarity, validation, and access to support. Many children and families feel relief when they understand why things have felt difficult. On the other hand, labels can sometimes come with downsides. These might include: ● Other people making assumptions about what a child can or can’t do ● Negative stereotypes or stigma ● Risk of bullying or exclusion ● Reduced expectations from adults That doesn’t mean diagnoses are a bad thing. It just means they need to be handled carefully. A diagnosis should be a starting point for understanding and supporting your child better, not a box they’re placed into. So what should parents take from all of this? If you’re worried about your child, or navigating the world of SEND support, here are a few key takeaways to hold onto: 1. Trust your instincts You know your child best. If something doesn’t feel right, it’s worth exploring. 2. Support shouldn’t have to wait Even without a diagnosis, schools can and should put support in place. Don’t feel you have to wait for an assessment before asking for help. 3. A diagnosis can be helpful but it’s not everything It can unlock support and understanding, but it’s just one piece of the puzzle. 4. Earlier identification can make a big difference The sooner a child’s needs are recognised, the easier it is to put helpful strategies in place and protect their confidence. 5. Keep the focus on your child as a whole person A diagnosis doesn’t define your child. Their strengths, interests, and personality matter just as much as any challenges. Moving beyond the myth The idea that children are being widely overdiagnosed can sound convincing but when we look closely, it isn’t supported by the evidence. A more accurate story is this: ● We’re getting better at spotting differences in how children learn ● Many children are still slipping through the cracks ● Diagnosis can be helpful, but it isn’t a magic solution ● What matters most is understanding, support, and acceptance And perhaps the most important thing to remember is this:Children don’t need to be “fixed” they need to be understood and supported in the way that works for them. Read more from Dr Kim Collett: SEND crisis: overdiagnosis - fact or fiction? | OpenLearn - Open University

Lucy Fox is an Assistant Headteacher and Head of Foundations in Coventry. She is an early years specialist and education writer with published work in TES, Schools Week, Early Years Educator and The Guardian. Lucy is passionate about protecting the joy of childhood and creating environments that meet children at their point of need through relationships, play and language rich practice. Transition begins before September Transition is often talked about in schools as a period of tension. There is an overwhelming assumption that change will naturally lead to distress or dysregulation for young children, and what often follows is a desire to “fix” the behaviour after the fact. Every September, schools brace themselves for the inevitable settling in period. It is not unusual to hear adults talk about children “just needing time to adjust” or “just needing support to learn how things work”. In many schools, transition is still viewed as a short handover period before the “real learning” begins. But what if the quality of the September we experience is directly linked to the quality of the transition we invested in during June and July? I find myself wondering whether much of what we describe as “settling in” is actually a reflection of how little we have invested beforehand in relationships, belonging and emotional security. Transition is the first phase of learning Transition is not separate from learning. It is the first phase of learning itself. Rather than focusing solely on supporting dysregulation once it happens, perhaps we should also be asking how we can create transitions that reduce the likelihood of children feeling overwhelmed in the first place. In the early years, we know and understand that the prime areas of learning underpin the whole of child development and the ability for a child to reach his/her full potential. We know how important a child’s “personal, social and emotional development” is, and we know that the building blocks of this vital strand start with relationships. If relationships sit at the heart of children's emotional wellbeing, then transition should be viewed as an opportunity to begin building those relationships long before the first day of school. Transition is relational, not administrative Rather than viewing transition as a list of tick box exercises to be completed by the end of the school year, we should be looking at the relationships we are seeking to build with our newest pupils and thinking about how we can design a period of time which best reflects our desired outcome. And the truth is that this can look different year on year, or even pupil to pupil. Too often, transition becomes centred around logistics such as staff time and cover, and this means that the relationships we are seeking to build get lost in the transactional nature of the task. We must remember that children do not arrive at school as blank slates on the first day of term. They bring with them a whole host of previous experiences, emotions, thought processes and goals. Before children can engage confidently in learning, they need to feel emotionally safe. In order for this to happen, we must invest time in learning the identity they are bringing with them. Investing in relationships is vital for any starting point. What strong transition looks like Strong transition work begins long before children walk through the classroom doors in September. Strong provisions are those that recognise the importance of investing a good amount of time in the summer months building relationships with families. This can change the dynamics of transition completely. We know that children who feel known to adults often arrive with a greater sense of confidence and emotional security, two things that early years practitioners are recognising as concepts that children are struggling with in the autumn term. It makes sense then to rethink the way we view the transition period in the summer months. Home visits are an invaluable place to start when thinking about getting to know your families. Many schools are quick to dismiss these as inconvenient, taking staff and time out of the school day. However, the knowledge gained by spending time in an environment natural to the child and his/her parents can be second to none. Concerns can be seen or heard before the child has started school and support can be put in place long before their time with you begins. It’s important to remember that parents also need transition to feel relational rather than transactional, and taking the time to visit them, getting to know their environments and culture is a powerful way to start this relationship. During one home visit, I met a child who was clearly very anxious about unfamiliar adults coming into his space, but proudly showed me a collection of toy animals. By September, those animals had become the starting point for many of our interactions. What could have felt like a completely new relationship already had a foundation. The transition had started weeks before the first day of school. Six small transition investments that pay off in September Transition does not have to involve large budgets or complicated systems. Often, the most powerful approaches are the simplest. Anything that reduces uncertainty and increases familiarity can have a significant impact on how confidently children arrive in September. 1. Home visits Home visits allow practitioners to meet children and families in a space where the child already feels secure. They give adults valuable insight into family life, communication, interests, culture and potential barriers before the child has even started school. 2. Stay and play sessions These sessions give children time to explore the environment alongside trusted adults. They are not just visits to the classroom. They are opportunities for children to begin building familiarity with spaces, resources, routines and people. 3. Photo books or transition packs Photographs of key adults, toilets, cloakrooms, outdoor spaces and key classroom areas can help families revisit school throughout the summer. For some children, seeing these images repeatedly can reduce uncertainty before September. 4. Gathering children’s interests Taking the time to find out what children love before they arrive gives practitioners immediate ways to connect. A favourite story, toy, song, animal or interest can become the bridge between home and school in those first few days. Remembering the little things is important. 5. Nursery and childminder conversations Where children have attended another setting, transition conversations should go beyond paperwork. The most useful information is often relational and holistic: what comforts the child? How do they communicate? What helps them engage? And what might overwhelm them? 6. Clear messages to parents about school readiness Parents need to know what matters most. Rather than encouraging families to spend the summer practising formal academic skills, schools can use transition to emphasise communication, independence, confidence, play, rest and everyday routines. None of these approaches remove the challenge of transition entirely. Children will still experience change and for many this can be a difficult time. Some will still find separation difficult and so will some parents or carers. But these small investments mean that, in September, adults are not starting from nothing. Relationships have already begun. Familiarity has already been built. The child is already known. The autumn payoff The investment made in the summer months pays off in the autumn because practitioners are no longer trying to build everything from scratch. They already know something about the child. Families already know something about the setting. Children have already begun to form a picture of the adults, spaces and routines that will become part of their everyday lives. This does not mean September becomes easy. It means September becomes more informed. Adults may feel they are able to respond more quickly because they understand the child more deeply. They may notice patterns sooner, make adjustments earlier and support emotional security with greater confidence. Investment in transition should not be seen as a soft extra. If we want children to arrive in September feeling secure enough to explore, communicate, play and learn, transition cannot be reduced to a few visits, a meeting and a handover form. The summer term needs to be understood as the beginning of the relationship for the next academic year. The question is not whether we have time to invest in transition during this time. The question is whether we can afford not to.

Bio: Michelle Windridge is the National Education Lead for School-Based EYFS, championing and supporting high-quality early years provision nationwide. With over 20 years’ experience in primary and early years education, she brings together classroom expertise, school leadership, and national strategic insight. She writes regularly for TES, Teach Early Years, and Early Years Educator Magazine, and contributes to higher education as an External Examiner for Primary Education Studies and Early Childhood Studies. Her background spans senior school leadership, lecturing in education, and achieving FHEA status for her impact on teaching and learning in higher education. Having spent more than 20 years as a Reception teacher, and having experienced the starting school journey twice as a parent with my own children, I can honestly say that beginning school is often an emotional rollercoaster. As a parent, I was faced with a mixture of pride at such a significant milestone, anxiety about whether my children would settle happily, and sheer exhaustion from preparing everything they needed (a huge thank you to whoever invented iron-on name labels, they are an absolute game changer!) My experiences as a Reception teacher have felt surprisingly similar. There is always excitement about meeting a new cohort of children and beginning to build relationships with them and their families, but there is also an awareness of stepping into the unknown. Unlike other year groups in primary school, where teachers often have opportunities to visit classes, speak to previous staff members and gather detailed transition information, Reception teachers can receive children from more than 20 different early years settings. Information can sometimes feel patchy or inconsistent, with every child arriving with their own wonderfully unique experiences, personalities and needs. One thing I have learnt through both my professional and personal experiences is that relationships are at the heart of a positive starting school experience. Yet parents are often bombarded with well-meaning advice about what their child “should” be able to do before starting school. With so much information now shared widely across social media, the pressure on families can feel immense. In this article, I hope to offer reassurance, practical tips and supportive guidance from both perspectives: as a Reception teacher who has welcomed hundreds of children into school, and as a mother who has been through the process herself and come out the other side. So, what does “school ready” actually mean? Despite what social media may sometimes suggest, school readiness is not about being able to read fluently, write sentences or complete worksheets before starting Reception. In fact, most Reception teachers would agree that the skills that matter most are the social, emotional and practical ones. Current research from Kindred Squared’s 2025 School Readiness Survey found that many teachers are increasingly concerned about children’s confidence, communication and independence skills when they start school. The report highlighted that children are often finding it difficult to manage simple routines, communicate their needs or separate confidently from parents and carers. At the same time, many parents reported feeling unsure about what “school ready” really means. The good news is that there are lots of small, manageable things families can do to help children feel more confident about the transition to school, and most of them can be built naturally into everyday family life. One of the most important things you can do is focus on independence. Reception classrooms are busy places, and while staff are always there to help and support, children feel far more secure when they can manage some simple tasks for themselves. Encouraging your child to put on their own coat, use the toilet independently, wash their hands, tidy away toys or carry their own bag can make a huge difference to their confidence. It may take longer, and sometimes it is tempting to do things for them when life feels rushed, but those small moments of independence really do matter. Language and conversation are also incredibly important. Research consistently shows that children’s communication skills are closely linked to their confidence and later learning. The Education Endowment Foundation highlights the importance of early language development and meaningful interactions with adults in supporting children’s long-term outcomes. Simple things such as chatting while walking to the shops, talking about what you can see out of the window, singing songs together or sharing stories all help build vocabulary and communication skills. And speaking of stories, reading together remains one of the most valuable things you can do before your child starts school. It is not about testing them on letters or asking them to perform. It is about building positive associations with books, language and closeness. Snuggling up together with a favourite story helps children develop listening skills, imagination and emotional security all at the same time. It is also perfectly normal for children to feel anxious about starting school. Some children run confidently through the gate on day one, while others cling tightly to their grown-up’s leg for weeks. Both reactions are completely normal. Children process change differently, and there is no “correct” way to start school. As parents, we often worry that tears at drop-off mean our child is unhappy, but in my experience as a Reception teacher, children usually settle far more quickly than parents imagine. Often, the hardest part is the goodbye itself. A calm, confident and consistent goodbye routine can really help. Even when your own heart feels wobbly, children take reassurance from knowing that the adults around them trust the situation and believe they will be okay. Another thing I always encourage parents to remember is that play is still learning. There can sometimes be pressure to focus heavily on academic skills before school begins, but young children learn best through play, exploration and secure relationships. Building with blocks, dressing up, playing outside, painting, climbing, digging, pretending and simply talking together all support important areas of development. The National Children’s Bureau’s 2026 “A Better Start” report emphasised the importance of play-based learning and strong relationships in supporting successful school transitions. Sleep and routines can also make a significant difference during those first few weeks. Starting school is exhausting, not just physically, but emotionally too. Children are learning new routines, processing huge amounts of information and navigating unfamiliar social situations every single day. You may notice your child becoming more emotional, more tired or even more clingy after school. This is incredibly common. Keeping evenings calm and predictable can really help children feel secure while they adjust. It is also important to remember that every child develops at their own pace. Social media can sometimes leave parents feeling as though they are falling behind or doing something wrong if their child cannot already write their name before they start school. Please do not panic. Reception teachers are trained to meet children where they are developmentally. Schools do not expect children to arrive knowing everything already. What matters most is not perfection but confidence, curiosity and emotional security. Children who feel safe, valued and connected are far more likely to engage with learning over time. Research from the UK Parliament’s 2025 briefing on children’s wellbeing in schools found that positive relationships and a strong sense of belonging play an important role in children’s wellbeing and engagement with learning. Final Thoughts Finally, be kind to yourself as a parent too. Starting school is a transition for the whole family, not just the child. It is completely normal to feel emotional, proud, anxious or even a little lost when your child reaches this milestone. Whether you are celebrating your youngest starting school or wondering where the years have gone, those feelings are valid. There will probably be chaotic mornings, lost jumpers, forgotten reading books and tired tears along the way. But there will also be new friendships, growing confidence, exciting discoveries and those lovely moments when your child suddenly seems just a little bit bigger than they did before. And eventually, usually sooner than you think, school will simply become part of everyday life. For further advice and practical tips to support you and your child on the starting school journey, Twinkl’s Ready, Set, School hub is a fantastic source of information and ideas. References: Cary, E. and Webb, L. (2025). POSTnote 739 Children’s wellbeing in schools. (online) Available at: https://researchbriefings.files.parliament.uk/documents/POST-PN-0739/POST-PN-0739.pdf (Accessed 4 Jun. 2026). Education Endowment Foundation (2016). Communication and language approaches. (online) EEF. Available at: https://educationendowmentfoundation.org.uk/early-years/toolkit/communication-and-language-approaches (Accessed 4 Jun. 2026). Kindred 2 (2026). School Readiness Survey 2025.(online)Kindred 2. Available at: https://kindredsquared.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/School-Readiness-Survey-January-2026-Kindred-Squared.pdf (Accessed 4 Jun. 2026). National Children’s Bureau. (2024). A Better Start: School readiness report. (online)Available at: https://www.ncb.org.uk/learning-better-start-school-readiness Twinkl. (2026). Ready, Set, School (online) Available at: https://www.twinkl.co.uk/readysetschool (Accessed 4 Jun. 2026).

At RECAP, one of our core aims is to make research more accessible to families. Behind every study are passionate researchers working to better understand children, learning, development, and family life. In our Research Spotlight series, we introduce the people behind the research - sharing their work, insights, and why their findings matter in the real world for parents and carers. Today's work is from: Professor Erica Borgstrom, Professor of Medical Anthropology, The Open University Dr Jon Rainford, Senior Lecturer in Childhood and Youth Studies, The Open University Dr Poppy Gibson, Lecturer in Education, The Open University Dr Stephanie Mulrine, Senior Lecturer in Medical Sociology, University of Sunderland Katy Vigurs, Practitioner for DEAD GOOD Matt Jones, Lecturer in Computer Games Design, Anglia Ruskin University Did You Know? ➤ Not everyone experiences grief in the same way. ➤ Whilst under-researched, there is evidence that neurodivergent people may experience grief, as well as the social practices around death and bereavement, differently from others. ➤ Grief may be overwhelming and unsettling for neurodivergent children who may seek to understand what has happened or be unsure of how to behave in such situations. What was the research looking at? Social norms are known to be powerful, influencing what behaviours or responses are expected, accepted, and stigmatised, including around loss and grief. People’s learning about social norms and grief often begins in childhood. Some have claimed that grief is a universal experience, which carries with it unsaid normative assumptions about how people may perceive and experience it. However, neurodivergent people may experience and respond to bereavement, death, loss and grief in ways that diverge from social norms, and there is a diversity within these differences. In this pilot research project, funded by The Foundation for the Sociology of Health and Illness (FSHI), we are aiming to try and develop a shared understanding of what grief means for neurodivergent young people and how we might use gameplay to help understand and support young people in the grieving process. Research Questions: RQ1: What is known about neurodivergent children’s and young people’s experiences of bereavement, and associated support? RQ2: How can gameplay be used to improve the support for bereaved neurodivergent children and young people?   How did you conduct your research? As a result of a recent two-day workshop hosted in Sunderland with four neurodivergent young people, and ongoing conversations, we hope to: Understand the key issues from research into neurodivergent experiences of grief and the gaps that further research could fill Develop knowledge on what game play is and how gameplay might work as part of this. This workshop is accompanied by two scoping reviews across the fields of grief for neurodivergent children and young people, and the intervention and use of game play for neurodivergent individuals. These sought to directly address the research questions. What are your key findings? For neurodivergent people, the challenges of naming feelings, differing responses to grief that does not always align with social norms, and depth of feeling can all impact upon grieving. Death may also create disruption in routines and trigger special interests surrounding death, which may be hard for others to understand. Traditional therapeutic approaches might need to be adapted to cater for these differences. Whilst the pilot research is still ongoing, early findings suggest that game playing can foster safe spaces for people to share lived experiences of grief and bereavement, allowing for conversations to be hosted side-by-side. Any recommendations? If you are supporting a child or young person, with grief or more widely with regulation, consider how game playing can be a useful tool to provide a space to explore emotions in an informal way. Your final word… Working on projects like this helps us understand possible ways to support children and young people as they grieve. We can only do this if we hear voices of the individuals themselves and listen to their lived experiences. Are there any games that you have played or that you can reflect may be supportive to play with people who are grieving or have experienced loss; how can these games provide safe spaces for conversation and sharing? Tell us in the comments References and Recommended reading: Palastanga, E.L., Gibson, P. and Greenhalgh, M. (2025) Supporting Bereaved Children in the Primary Classroom: Helping Children Process Death, Grief and Loss. Routledge. Rainford, J. and Borgstrom, E. (2026) How can I support bereaved neurodivergent children? | OpenLearn - Open University A free course from Open Learn: An introduction to death, dying and grief | OpenLearn - Open University Check out the project partner’s Instagram: DEAD GOOD: (9) Instagram

At RECAP, one of our core aims is to make research more accessible to families. Behind every study are passionate researchers working to better understand children, learning, development, and family life. In our Research Spotlight  series, we introduce the people behind the research - sharing their work, insights, and why their findings matter in the real world for parents and carers. Today's work is from: Dr Poppy Gibson, Lecturer in Education, The Open University Dr Sagun Shrestha, Research Associate, The Open University Helena Staszkiewicz, Associate Lecturer, The Open University Did You Know? ➤  Collaborative tasks can lessen feelings of isolation that distance learning sometimes brings (Yu, 2020). ➤ However, Venter (2024) found that students are not always positive about online group work. ➤  Anxiety can be caused by having to be dependent on others to achieve a desired outcome but also students may worry about letting others down (Hilliard et al., 2020). What was the research looking at? Distance learning can be a flexible, more manageable way to study online without the need to attend a campus each day. But how do students feel when group work is introduced and expected as part of their distance learning course? Collaborative activities develop the ability to work as part of a team; this is seen as an important skill in the workplace (Hilliard et al, 2020), and often the hope is that navigating these group dynamics can be a useful tool to take forward into other settings. This project wanted to offer insight into real lived experiences of distance learning students, to find out their perceived benefits and challenges of having to work with others in online spaces, with the hope of gathering understanding to inform planning at module level for those designing learning activities. How did you conduct your research? Funded by The Praxis Scholarship Hub at the Open University, this project explored the experiences of six adult students when collaborating online. After obtaining ethical approval, students were recruited through an email advert. The six students took part in two online group activities where they had to work together to create a presentation and a science activity, and then each student had a 1:1 online interview with the researchers to understand more about their lived experiences of working with peers online. Through an interpretative lens, this research project used thematic analysis to draw out perceived barriers and challenges that students felt when collaborating online with various tools. What are your key findings? The key positives of online group working that emerged from the data are: Students found forum discussions an easy way to build on what others had said in a way that encourages thoughtful interaction. The chance to meet someone new and learn from them. The development of empathy and understanding from hearing other students’ experiences. Issues around collaborative activities that emerged from the data are: Lack of participation from some members. Difficulty in establishing communication. Taking time to decide which tool or platform to use. Any recommendations? The researchers suggest that tutors can help to support distance learners if collaborative work is set, through these strategies: 1. Longer planning in collaborative activities; give students more time for group tasks than independent tasks to factor in the necessary time for the initial communications to happen before the work can begin. 2. The findings suggest students prefer being instructed on which tool or platform to use, rather than having a choice, as this creates another group decision to navigate. 3. Where possible, tutors should give structured guidance and steps as to how the group may want to approach the project, such as ideal deadlines for which different parts of the activity should be completed, which can help things run more smoothly.   Your final word …  Working on projects like this help us advancing inclusive practices and promoting outcomes for our learners. We can only do this if we hear voices of the learners themselves and listen to their lived experiences. What are the skills and values that can be developed through online collaboration in distance learning? Tell us in the comments References and Recommended reading: Hilliard, J., Kear, K., Donelan, H., & Heaney, C. (2020). Students’ experiences of anxiety in an assessed, online, collaborative project. Computers & Education, 143, 103675. Venter, A. (2024) ‘Exploring the downside to student online collaborations’, The Independent Journal of Teaching and Learning , 19(1), pp. 64–78. Available at: https://doi.org/10.17159/ijtl.v19i1.18853 . Yu, E. (2020) ‘Student-Inspired Optimal Design of Online Learning for Generation Z Student-Inspired Optimal Design of Online Learning for Generation Z’, The journal of educators online, 17(1).

When we talk about neurodiversity in education, the conversation often centres around policies, diagnoses, or support plans. But behind every policy discussion are families navigating the day-to-day realities of school life. While writing my upcoming book, Neurodiversity Through the Educational Years (Due to be released by Emerald Publishing later this year - more details soon!) , I spoke with families whose experiences span early years, primary school, secondary school, alternative provision, and transitions into adulthood. Their stories reveal something important: The challenges neurodivergent children face in education are rarely about ability. They are far more often about the fit . Here are a few of the patterns that emerged. When Struggle Is Invisible One of the most prevalent themes across the stories was how often children’s difficulties were missed in the early years. Many children appeared to be coping on the surface. They were quiet, compliant, or academically able. Teachers saw children who were working hard and behaving well. But families often saw a different picture at home. Children came home absolutely exhausted. They experienced anxiety, meltdowns, or shutdowns after holding everything together at school. This phenomenon is often described as masking  - when a child suppresses their natural responses in order to fit into an environment that feels difficult or overwhelming. The problem is that masking can make children appear to be coping, which delays understanding and support. The silence they present can be mistaken for being fine . Compliance to the rules at school can be mistaken for being fine . Thriving academically and reaching educational milestones can be mistaken for being... you guessed it... fine ! Behaviour Is Often a Signal, Not a Problem Another theme that emerged repeatedly was how behaviour is interpreted by others. Many families described situations where their child’s distress was seen as defiance or disruption rather than communication. Yet when you look more closely at these situations, the behaviour often made sense. Children were overwhelmed by noise. They struggled with unpredictable routines, and they were navigating sensory overload or social confusion. When behaviour is treated purely as something to correct, the underlying need can remain unaddressed. A neurodiversity-affirming approach encourages us to ask a different question: What is this behaviour telling us about the environment or the child’s needs? Families Become Advocates Across the stories in the book, families often found themselves becoming advocates - sometimes unexpectedly. Parents described learning new terminology, researching support pathways, attending meetings, and navigating complex systems simply to access the help their child needed. This advocacy was rarely something families wanted. It was something they felt they had to do. When support systems are difficult to navigate or slow to respond, families often become the bridge between their child’s needs and the system that is meant to support them. Over time, this advocacy can become emotionally exhausting. Thriving Happens When Environments Change Despite the challenges many families described, there were also powerful stories of success. Children who had struggled in one environment often thrived in another. This might be: a specialist provision an additionally resourced provision within mainstream school alternative education pathways home education flexible or blended timetables What these environments often shared was not lower expectations, but greater flexibility. Smaller class sizes. Staff trained in neurodiversity. A willingness to adapt learning environments and routines. When the conditions changed, many children who had previously been struggling became engaged learners again. Neurodiversity Is Not the Problem Perhaps the most important lesson from these family stories is this: Neurodivergent children do not struggle because they are incapable of learning. They struggle when environments expect everyone to learn, behave, and process the world in the same way. When education systems recognise and accommodate difference, something remarkable happens. Children who once felt overwhelmed begin to participate and their confidence slowly returns. - the learning becomes possible again. Moving the Conversation Forward Supporting neurodivergent learners requires more than awareness. It requires environments that are flexible enough to respond to different ways of thinking, learning, and experiencing the world. That means: earlier recognition of need better training for educators listening to families and designing systems that adapt to children - not the other way around! Because when environments change, outcomes change too. And the stories in this book make one thing clear: Thriving is not about fixing neurodivergent children - it is about creating conditions where they can flourish. Stay connected with RECAP If this topic resonated with you, you can follow RECAP  on social media where we regularly share research-informed insights, practical parenting support, and conversations that bridge the gap between academic research and everyday family life. You’ll also be the first to hear about new resources, podcast episodes, and updates on the upcoming book. 📱 Follow RECAP to stay in the loop: https://linktr.ee/LucieWheeler