Inclusion Bases and Peer Support: Building Belonging for Every Child
Written by Liz Robson-Kelly
Educator, Positive and Organisational Psychologist, leading expert on Positive Education in the UK.
Inclusion bases give pupils who experience barriers to learning access to targeted support without losing their place in the wider school community. Yet many leaders find that specialist provision is only half the story. Whether it works depends just as much on the culture around it – a culture built on belonging.
Why Pupil Voice Matters
Inclusion is not something you do to pupils. It is something you build with them.
Pupils know where they feel safe and where they do not. They know which corridors feel overwhelming, which transitions cause anxiety, and which spaces feel welcoming. When you ask and genuinely listen, you learn about the real barriers to learning rather than the ones adults assume exist.
The Department for Education’s guidance on inclusion bases reinforces this, listing child, young person, and parent and carer voice among the quality-assurance sources a base should draw on each year. Pupil voice is not a nice extra. It is expected practice.
Crucially, pupil voice does not replace specialist teaching, therapeutic input, or SENCo oversight. It strengthens the whole-school culture that surrounds your specialist provision. Think of it as the soil, not the plant.
How Peer-Led Programmes Build Belonging
At Worth-it, we believe that belonging is one of the most powerful protective factors for young people’s mental health. Our programmes are rooted in positive psychology and designed to nurture a deep sense of school belonging that shapes identity, safety, and long-term wellbeing. When young people truly feel they belong, engagement, attendance, and positive behaviour naturally follow.
Peer support helps by:
- Reducing isolation and normalising conversations about wellbeing
- Creating low-barrier routes into help
- Modelling kindness and inclusion across year groups
- Building confidence and leadership in the pupils who take part
This matters enormously for an inclusion base. The DfE guidance is explicit that schools must guard against making pupils who use the base feel less valued than their mainstream peers. A strong peer-led culture is one of the most powerful ways to prevent that.
Peer Support in Practice
At Rainey Endowed School in Northern Ireland, trained student ambassadors set up a lunchtime Wellbeing Club. Autistic and SEN pupils in particular benefited from a calm, consistent space during what can otherwise be an overwhelming part of the day.
Many of the 200 schools we have worked with have paired Year 7 forms with trained ambassadors, run reverse integration through shared clubs, and produced pupil-authored welcome packs for children joining a base. Most schools run sustainable peer-led programmes with just two trained staff and a cohort of motivated students.
Evidencing What Inspectors Look For
This work helps you evidence exactly what the DfE and Ofsted are looking for. Ofsted inspects the base as part of the whole school, examining whether pupils feel welcome, valued, and part of the community.
Keep simple records of your peer-led activity. Buddy pairings, drop-in numbers, and feedback sessions all count. A shared spreadsheet is enough to demonstrate impact rather than just describe it.
Start Small
An effective base needs specialist teaching and clear SENCo oversight at its core. But they cannot succeed in isolation. What makes a base thrive is the culture around it, and that culture is built through belonging.
The schools that do this well all started with something small. A lunchtime club. A buddy pairing. A group of trained students with a clear brief. You do not need to do everything at once. You just need to start.
Worth-it Positive Education has three practical next steps to help you move forward:
- Download the free Peer Support for Schools Info Pack to see how peer support maps onto Ofsted expectations
- Use the Wellbeing and Inclusion Planning Tool to identify your school’s priority pathway in under five minutes
- Find out more about the Wellbeing Ambassadors programme and how it helps schools build a sustainable, pupil-led culture of belonging from within
The rise of ‘Universal design for learning’ – Why every Further Education provider is talking about UDL
Written by Sarah Vickrage
Sarah Vickrage is a Teaching and Inclusion Specialist at the Fellowship of Inspection Nominees, supporting Further Education providers to embed meaningful inclusive practice.
For years, Universal Design for Learning (UDL) has often been viewed as something “nice to have” or an approach championed by SEND specialists. Today, that is changing. Across the further education sector, UDL is moving from the margins into the mainstream as a practical framework for improving teaching quality, supporting inclusion and helping every learner achieve.
Growing interest in UDL also aligns with the direction of travel set out in the Department for Education’s proposed SEND reforms under Universal Support. While the reforms cover the whole education system, they place a strong emphasis on creating a more inclusive mainstream experience, improving consistency of support and reducing barriers to participation. For further education providers, this reinforces a shift away from relying solely on individual interventions and towards designing learning environments that are accessible from the outset, with the assumption that learner variability is entirely normal. UDL provides a practical framework for achieving this: embedding inclusive practice into everyday teaching while continuing to offer targeted support where it is needed most.
Individual reasonable adjustments remain an essential part of high-quality education provision. However, they often rely on diagnosis, disclosure or referral and can also unintentionally create delays or reinforce the idea that some learners are exceptions to the norm.
Why now?
Several factors are bringing UDL into sharper focus across FE. Firstly, colleges are seeing increasingly diverse learner cohorts. We are still seeing the children of the Covid-19 pandemic move into the workplace, and while the pandemic did not create the need for UDL, it highlighted many issues UDL seeks to address. Alongside growing awareness of neurodiversity, there is greater recognition of differences in language, literacy, mental health, disability, prior educational experiences and life circumstances.
Secondly, inclusion is increasingly recognised as an organisational responsibility rather than solely the responsibility of learning support teams. It needs to be embedded into every decision, strategy and policy.
Finally, expectations around quality teaching continue to evolve. Inclusive practice is no longer viewed as an optional enhancement but as a hallmark of effective teaching and learning. For many providers, UDL offers a practical way of bringing these priorities together.
What does UDL look like in practice?
One of the biggest misconceptions is that UDL requires teachers to produce multiple versions of every lesson. When I think back to my first years in teaching where we were expected to make 3 versions of the same worksheet and know exactly who would be working on each sheet before the start of the lesson it makes my toes curl.
Most UDL strategies are simple changes that improve learning for everyone. Many educators are already using these approaches. UDL simply provides a framework for making them intentional and consistent.
Good for everyone, not just some
One of the strengths of UDL is that it avoids creating a divide between “supported learners” and everyone else.
For example, when a learner with ADHD frequently asks for instructions to be repeated, they can be viewed as needing extra support. However, providing instructions verbally, visually and in written form benefits everyone, including learners with anxiety, language differences or those balancing education with other responsibilities.
Clear visual organisation may support an autistic learner, while also reducing cognitive load for someone learning in a second language. Captions on videos help learners with hearing impairments, but they are equally valuable in noisy environments or for learners revising independently.
A strategic opportunity for FE
As providers continue to strengthen their approach to inclusion, UDL offers more than a collection of teaching strategies. It provides a common language that can connect curriculum design, staff development, learner support and quality improvement, ensuring we are all on the same page with the same high standards.
For providers looking to reflect on their current practice, the Fellowship of Inspection Nominees’ inclusion resources provide a useful framework for exploring how effectively inclusion is embedded across the organisation, from leadership decisions through to classroom practice.
Looking ahead
Universal Design for Learning is unlikely to remain a specialist concept for much longer. As FE providers continue to reflect on curriculum quality, teaching and learner experience, UDL provides an opportunity to move beyond asking whether individual learners are being supported and towards asking whether the learning environment itself is designed to enable success.
The most inclusive providers will be those that see accessibility not as something added when a need is identified, but as a fundamental part of high-quality education.
The conversation about UDL has started. The opportunity now is to move from discussion to action, embedding inclusive design into everyday practice so every learner has the opportunity to participate, progress and achieve.
Ask yourself, are you designing education around the barriers the learners face, or are you designing education that removed those barriers in the first place?
What Do I Say Right Now?
Written by Orla McKeating
Entrepreneur, coach and motivational speaker
“My parents told me to cross the road when I see a Black or Brown man.” “Can I say the word ‘Black’?” “I don’t think immigrants should come here.” “That’s gay.”
These are conversations I have heard over the last five years through my work with Still I Rise Voices. And increasingly, I hear another question underneath all of them:
“What do I say right now?”
Because our children are growing up in a world where conversations about race, migration, identity, gender, disability, culture and belonging are everywhere. They hear things at home. They see things online. They hear conversations in the playground. They absorb the language of adults around them. And sometimes they bring all of that into the classroom.
For teachers and educators, this can feel like a lot.
You are already carrying enormous responsibility. You are supporting children academically, emotionally and socially, often while navigating significant workload pressures.
The 2025 NASUWT Big Question Survey, which included more than 10,000 teachers across the UK, found that almost half of teachers – 48% – reported a substantial increase in workload over the previous year. Teachers reported working an average of 47 hours a week, including around 12 hours outside the school day.
And in England, the picture is similarly difficult. Research commissioned by the Department for Education found that only 17% of teachers and leaders agreed that they had an acceptable workload in 2023.
So, when we talk about creating inclusive classrooms, we may need to acknowledge something important. Teachers cannot be expected to know everything. They cannot be expected to have all the language. All the answers. All the cultural knowledge. All the confidence. And all the time. That doesn’t mean these conversations aren’t important.
It means we need to give educators the tools and support to have them well.
The Context is Changing
In Northern Ireland especially, the need for these conversations is not theoretical. Our classrooms are changing alongside our communities, and the wider environment children are growing up in matters.
The PSNI recorded 2,260 race-motivated incidents and 1,430 race-motivated crimes during 2025 – the highest 12-month level recorded since this data series began in 2004/05.
The figures don’t tell us what every child is experiencing but they do tell us something about the environment around us.
And educators are often the adults who are expected to help children make sense of that environment. They may be the person a child turns to after hearing something racist. The person who notices that a child has stopped participating. The person who needs to challenge a stereotype without humiliating the child who repeated it. The person trying to support a child who feels different. The person wondering:
“Is this the right language?”
“Should I challenge this?”
“What if I make it worse?”
“What if a parent complains?”
“What if I don’t know enough?”
These questions don’t make you a bad educator. They make you human. We need to move away from fear
One of the things I have learned through working with more than 10,000 children and young people across Ireland and the UK is that the most powerful conversations don’t usually begin with having the perfect answer.
They begin with curiosity.
I have seen a Global Majority girl jump up when she recognised someone who looked like her in a book. Her whole face lit up. “She’s like me!”
I’ve seen a child proudly share parts of their culture with classmates after seeing a character wearing a hijab. I’ve heard teenagers express views about immigration that are uncomfortable to hear. I’ve heard children say, “That’s gay,” followed by laughter.
And these moments matter. Not because every child has suddenly become perfectly inclusive. But because we have an opportunity to pause. To ask:
Why do you think that?
Where did you hear that?
How might that make someone feel?
Is that actually true?
What could we say instead?
That is where learning happens. Not through shame. Not through humiliation. Not through pretending difficult things aren’t being said. But through conversation. Inclusion isn’t about having the perfect words.
I used to think change came through fighting. I fought hard for my mixed-race son and what he experienced in school. I fought against systems. I fought against language.
But over time, I realised that there is another kind of work. The quieter work. The work of sitting together. Listening. Learning about our own biases. Understanding where someone is starting from. Having the conversation. Asking another question. Sharing another story. Changing one word. Opening one book. Helping one child feel seen. Because sometimes one moment can change how a child understands the world. And sometimes one moment can change how an adult understands a child.
So, What Do I Say Right Now?
That is exactly why I created “What Do I Say Right Now?”
It is a practical resource for teachers, educators, parents and anyone who wants to feel more confident navigating difficult conversations around inclusion.
Because sometimes we don’t need another lecture. We need somewhere to start. We need language. We need prompts. We need reassurance. We need to know that we are allowed to say: “I’m not sure, but let’s explore that together.”
There is something beautiful about correcting something without shaming a child. We can start to understand that having a conversation about race does not have to mean having the perfect vocabulary.
And we need somewhere to keep learning.
That is what I want to create through The Inclusion Lab – a hybrid learning platform and trusted space for educators and people who care about creating more inclusive environments to keep learning, asking questions and building confidence.
Because inclusion isn’t a one-off training session. It isn’t a tick box. And it certainly isn’t about getting everything right all the time. It is a practice. A conversation. A commitment. Little by little. Word by word. Story by story.
So, if you have ever found yourself thinking:
What do I say right now?
I’ve created something to help. Download your free copy of “What Do I Say Right Now?” and start with one conversation.
Because language changes things. Connection changes things. Stories change things. Voices change the world. Still We Rise.
Can Omission Teach as Loudly as Words Complete
Written by Glenda Obeng
Glenda Obeng is a published author and multifaceted educator with a legal background and a law and politics specialism, serving as Teacher of Social Sciences and Citizenship Curriculum Lead. She is Founder and CEO of The Artourney, which produces multimedia resources praised for illuminating Black, African and Caribbean communities and sparking conversations about identity, belonging and civic agency.
A persistent label in compulsory education is that Black history belongs to a single month. In the UK, Black History Month (BHM) falls in October after Akyaaba Addai-Sebo helped establish it in 1987, choosing October because it aligned with the start of the academic year. BHM has value, but it becomes tokenistic when treated as the only moment Black history is meaningfully explored. Slavery, racism and oppression are important histories, yet when they dominate the narrative, they create a narrow lens and deny pupils the opportunity to understand the full breadth of Black identities, achievements and cultural contributions.
While teaching international relations, in a debate preparation task Person A, a pupil of mixed heritage assigned Egypt expressed surprise to learn it is in Africa. Pupils rarely learn the vast cultures of Africa or the diverse histories and traditions of the Caribbean during formative years. These topics may appear later in further or higher education, but that is neither guaranteed nor equitable. We must move beyond monolithic education and ask, what futures do we limit when we teach only a fraction of the truth?
This concern has historical context. The Swann Report (1985) highlighted systemic barriers faced by ethnic-minority pupils, while the Educationally Subnormal (ESN) scandal of the 1960s–70s showed how Black children were disproportionately removed from mainstream schools and labelled ‘educationally subnormal’. They were steered into narrow practical training instead of a full academic curriculum, leaving many without recognised qualifications and facing long-term barriers to employment and social mobility. There has been progress, ESN schools were closed, equality duties were introduced, and curricula have slowly broadened. Yet a debate in the UK Parliament marking the 40th anniversary of the Swann Report in March 2025 made clear that unequal outcomes and exclusionary practices persist, so reform has not yet translated into equal opportunities for all pupils.
Some may argue that the UK’s White majority reduces the need for racially diverse education. The 2021 Census for England and Wales show those identifying as White British fell from 80.5% to 74.4%; an ageing population and low birth rates mean future growth will likely depend on net migration, so classrooms will only become more diverse as noticeable emigration from the UK continues to rise. Schools should teach cultural literacy and adopt inclusive practices so pupils can navigate shifting cultural environments. Person B, a pupil of North-East African heritage, once asked when I was going to “get my hair done” as I walked through the corridor with my natural 4C afro. I told them, “I do not need to conform to Eurocentric beauty standards to be professional”. Their question was not malicious; it reflected a message many internalise about beauty when navigating an environment as a minority.
Blanket acronyms like ‘BAME’ or ‘BIPOC’, though pragmatic for policy monitoring to some, flatten distinct communities with different histories and needs. If we criticise monolithic curricula, we must also reject monolithic labels. In March 2026 the United Nations General Assembly adopted resolution A/RES/80/250 declaring the trafficking of enslaved Africans and the radicalised chattel enslavement of Africans ‘the gravest crime against humanity’, affirming the need for justice, dignity and healing. Reparations must include educational measures; a truthful curriculum should foster understanding rather than hierarchy. That curriculum must also address everyday signals of belonging.
School rules that label natural or protective hairstyles as ‘extreme’ or ‘unprofessional’ undermine pupils’ confidence and force conformity to Eurocentric norms. Person C, a pupil who habitually used gel to flatten their hair or wore a straight-haired wig, often appeared less confident when their natural hair was out. When I complimented their natural hair, they replied, “don’t, it’s messy”.
Racial literacy should link histories of the Global Majority and Global Minority, recognising power, population and historical context, decentre Eurocentric narratives, and pair sustained, age-appropriate teaching with media literacy so pupils can separate fact from fiction and resist online radicalisation. Person D, a white English young person, said ‘it was not entirely their fault they knew little about other races because they lived in an area where most people look like them and their school did not teach much about race’. Person E, a light-complexion mixed-heritage young person, discussed chemically straightening their hair ‘to pass’ as White. When young people rarely see their cultures, histories or physical features reflected in the curriculum, those who are different often feel pressured to flatten or minimise their identity in public rather than feel proud of who they are and where they come from.
Implementing these insights requires curriculum change, teacher reflexivity, revised policies and supported spaces for complex identities. Schools that treat cultural knowledge as an asset rather than a deficit will improve belonging, attainment and the long-term resilience of all pupils. If education shapes who we become, can we justify teaching anything less than the whole story?