Maslow’s Hierarchy Was Never Just a Pyramid
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
Every educator has seen it. The pyramid – at the bottom sit physiological needs: food, water, shelter, sleep. Above that come safety, belonging, esteem, and finally – at the peak – self-actualisation.
For decades, Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs has shaped educational thinking. It appears in teacher training, wellbeing frameworks, behaviour support models, and school leadership presentations around the world. The message is straightforward: children cannot learn effectively if their basic needs are unmet.
And that insight matters;
- Hungry children struggle to concentrate,
- Unsafe children struggle to trust,
- Disconnected children struggle to engage.
But there is a part of the story many educators have never been told.
Maslow’s ideas were influenced by time spent with the Blackfoot Confederacy in 1938, where he observed a society deeply grounded in community, belonging, collective responsibility, and cultural continuity. In later years, scholars and Indigenous educators have pointed to the similarities between Maslow’s developing ideas and Blackfoot understandings of human wellbeing.
What is especially interesting is that Maslow himself never actually drew the famous pyramid we all recognise today. The pyramid – with its upward climb toward individual success – became a Western interpretation of his theory. And perhaps in that interpretation, something important was lost because many Indigenous worldviews do not see human flourishing as an individual journey upward. They see it as relational.
The Problem With the Pyramid
The modern version of Maslow’s hierarchy is often presented as a ladder:
- First survival…
- Then safety…
- Then belonging…
- Then achievement.
Eventually, if all goes well, a person reaches self-actualisation – becoming the fullest version of themselves. But schools have absorbed this framework in ways that often reinforce individualism rather than connection.
Once students’ basic needs are acknowledged, education systems quickly shift focus toward:
- academic performance,
- achievement,
- productivity,
- competition,
- outcomes.
The underlying message becomes: Now that your needs are met, it is time to succeed.
Yet human wellbeing is not linear:
- Children can experience creativity while carrying trauma,
- Students can achieve highly while feeling lonely,
- Young people can comply academically while feeling culturally unseen.
Many First Nations perspectives understand wellbeing not as a hierarchy, but as an interconnected system of relationships – between self, community, identity, spirit, land, and purpose. Belonging is not a stage to move through. It is foundational.
What Indigenous Wisdom Offers Education
One of the most powerful distinctions in Indigenous understandings of wellbeing is the shift from individual fulfilment to collective flourishing.
In many Western systems, the highest goal is personal achievement:
- reaching your potential,
- standing out,
- becoming successful.
But Indigenous perspectives often place greater emphasis on:
- contribution,
- responsibility,
- kinship,
- cultural continuity,
- community wellbeing.
The question changes from: “How do I become my best self?”
To: “How do I strengthen the wellbeing of the community around me?”
That difference has profound implications for schools because schools frequently reward independence while undervaluing interconnectedness.
We celebrate high achievers, but often overlook:
- kindness,
- emotional safety,
- cultural identity,
- collaboration,
- service,
- belonging.
And yet these are the very things that allow human beings to flourish.
What Would Schools Look Like If We Truly Understood This?
If schools genuinely embraced a more holistic understanding of human needs, education might begin to look very different.
We might prioritise:
- relationships before results,
- connection before compliance,
- identity before standardisation,
- wellbeing before performance.
Students would not simply be prepared for exams or careers – they would be prepared for life in community.
Teachers would spend less time asking: “How do we improve outcomes?”
And more time asking: “Do our students feel seen, safe, valued, and connected?”
Because children learn best when they experience belonging.
Not performative belonging…Not tokenistic inclusion…Real belonging.
The kind that says: “You matter here.”
Beyond Achievement
Many schools today are facing rising levels of anxiety, disengagement, loneliness, and behavioural complexity among young people.
We often respond with interventions, data tracking, wellbeing programs, and behaviour systems, but perhaps part of the deeper issue is that modern education has become disconnected from fundamental human needs.
Not just physical needs – but emotional, relational, cultural, and spiritual ones too. The Indigenous perspectives that influenced Maslow remind us that wellbeing cannot be separated from connection.
A child’s sense of identity matters…Community matters…Purpose matters…Relationship matters…And perhaps the greatest misunderstanding of the pyramid is that human flourishing was never meant to be a solo climb to the top.
A Different Vision for Education
What if success in schools was measured not only by grades, but by:
- empathy,
- contribution,
- resilience,
- belonging,
- cultural strength,
- and the ability to care for others?
What if education was not simply about producing successful individuals, but nurturing connected human beings?
Long before modern psychology attempted to define human motivation, First Nations peoples already understood something essential: people thrive through relationships and belonging to a community.
Perhaps schools have been looking at the pyramid for so long that we forgot to look around us. So perhaps the future of education depends not on climbing higher, but on reconnecting more deeply – to ourselves, to each other, and to community.
School is so gay
Written by Ian Timbrell
Ian has worked in education for 18 years, including as a teacher and deputy head teacher and now supports schools develop their provision for LGBTQ+ and adopted pupils. He is the author of 'It's More Than Flags and Rainbows', a guide to supporting schools become more LGBTQ+ inclusive.
I remember seeing bullying when I was at school. I remember the names, the laughter, and the way certain words landed harder than others. I also remember how normal it all felt at the time, not because it was harmless, but because nobody really stopped it.
Years later, when I became a teacher, I genuinely believed things would be different. Society had moved on, language had evolved, and schools were far more aware of safeguarding and wellbeing. But standing in classrooms and corridors, I found myself hearing the same phrases, watching the same patterns, and feeling the same familiar knot in my stomach.
What devastated me most was not just that bullying still existed. It was how often it was excused.
“That’s so gay.”
“They don’t mean it like that.”
“It’s just a saying.”
“There are bigger issues we need to focus on.”
I heard these comments repeatedly. Sometimes from pupils, but far more painfully from adults.
For LGBTQ+ people, language like this is never neutral. It carries weight, history, and memory. When a word connected to who you are is used as shorthand for something negative, it teaches you very early on that your identity is something to be laughed at, minimised, or ignored.
As a pupil, that message hurts deeply.
As a teacher, watching it be passed on to another generation is crushing.
Over time, I became increasingly frustrated by the idea that tackling homophobia was somehow an “extra”. Something to get to if there was time. Something that sat below academic outcomes, behaviour targets, or inspection priorities. I watched schools work tirelessly on countless tick-box initiatives, yet hesitate when it came to properly challenging harmful language, often out of fear of backlash or because it was seen as controversial.
But bullying linked to sexuality or gender identity is not less serious because it is verbal. It is not less damaging because it is common. And it is not less urgent because some people are uncomfortable talking about it.
I reached a point where I could no longer accept that this was just how things were. Leaving teaching was not an easy decision, but it became a necessary one. I set up More Than Flags and Rainbows because I wanted to challenge the idea that inclusion is optional and that addressing homophobia is somehow a distraction from “real” education. It is not. It is central to it.
I have worked with children who learned to make themselves smaller to feel safe. I have listened to young people who stayed silent because drawing attention to themselves felt dangerous. I have seen how unchecked language creates cultures where exclusion becomes normal and cruelty becomes background noise.
This work matters because words shape environments. When harmful language goes unchallenged, it sends a clear message about whose feelings matter and whose do not. When schools, and wider society, treat this as a low priority, LGBTQ+ young people pay the price.
This is not abstract to me. It is personal. I have lived it, witnessed it, and ultimately walked away from a career I loved in order to keep challenging it in a different way. And I believe deeply that when we stop making excuses for harm, we create spaces where young people do not just survive, but belong.
Understanding Why Mattering Matters for Black Teachers
Written by Tara Elie
Tara Elie teacher, psychologist, lecturer and coach. Tara has diverse experience in education and Learning and Development spanning over decades. She is renowned for her engaging training delivery, both face-to-face and virtually. Her performance background, alongside her passion for supporting individuals and organisations to flourish and thrive, characterise her delivery style. Tara has completed research on Black Teacher Mattering which she is delivering in keynotes. She is passionate about teacher wellbeing and uses the theories of Positive Psychology to inform her work with all clients with a proven record of success. Tara stands for social justice and social change. She appreciates and celebrates the individual, their differing backgrounds, cultures, experiences, perceptions, and values.
A Gap in the Research
As I explored the literature on mattering and education, one issue became increasingly clear: there is very little UK-based research exploring how Black teachers (BTs) experience mattering within schools. Existing research has focused on Black students (Howard-Vital, 1991; Scott, 1996), or on teachers in specific curriculum areas such as Physical Education (Gaudreault et al., 2018). Research specifically examining BTs has largely come from the United States (Milner, 2006; Love, 2016; Carey, 2019).
This gap matters. Conversations about diversity in education often focus on recruitment statistics or representation targets, but much less attention is given to how Black teachers actually experience school environments once they enter the profession. For me, this raises important questions about belonging, recognition, and professional identity. Do Black teachers feel valued? Do they feel seen? Do they feel that what they contribute genuinely matters?
What Does “Mattering” Actually Mean?
Psychologically, mattering refers to the experience of feeling valued by others and believing that we add value to the lives of others. Rosenberg (1985) connected mattering to self-esteem, describing it as being treated with respect and having one’s value acknowledged. Elliott (2009) similarly described mattering as the belief that we make a meaningful difference.
What I find particularly powerful about these definitions is that mattering is not simply about praise or confidence. It is relational. It is about whether people feel psychologically significant within the spaces they occupy.
For Black teachers, however, this experience can become more complicated when viewed through the lens of race. Elliott (2009) identifies awareness — being noticed and distinguishable from others — as an important component of mattering. Yet Jensen’s (2011) research on Black men in Denmark suggests that visibility is not always experienced positively when connected to racial “othering”.
This feels especially relevant within education. Black teachers may be highly visible within predominantly white institutions whilst simultaneously feeling unheard, stereotyped, or professionally overlooked. Visibility alone does not create mattering. In fact, being visible without being genuinely valued may deepen feelings of marginality.
Dignity, Fairness, and Recognition
The literature repeatedly highlights dignity and fairness as central to mattering. Prilleltensky (2019) describes dignity as “the backbone of mattering”, whilst Perryman and Calvert (2020) connect worthiness to fair and just treatment.
I think this is particularly important when considering the experiences of BTs. If teachers experience stereotyping, inequitable treatment, or exclusion from opportunities, this can undermine not only confidence but also their sense of professional worth.
Recognition also matters deeply. Ryan (1985) argues that positive feedback strengthens motivation and well-being, whilst Prilleltensky (2014) suggests that feeling valued increases people’s confidence to contribute actively within their communities. In schools, acknowledgement from colleagues and leaders can reinforce a teacher’s sense that their work is meaningful. Conversely, a lack of recognition can contribute to invisibility.
Relationships, Belonging, and Authenticity
One theme that appears consistently throughout the literature is the importance of relationships. Gaudreault et al. (2018) found that relationships and support formed the foundation of teachers’ experiences of mattering. Although their research focused on Physical Education teachers, I believe the findings resonate strongly with the experiences of BTs.
Teaching is deeply relational work. The quality of relationships with students, colleagues, and leaders can shape whether teachers experience schools as places of belonging or exclusion.
Belonging itself appears closely linked to mattering. Warstadt, Daly and Bjorkland (2021) found that teachers with higher well-being often experience a stronger sense of belonging within their school communities. This supports Baumeister and Leary’s (1995) argument that the need to belong is a fundamental human motivation.
For BTs working in predominantly white educational spaces, belonging may carry even greater significance. Experiences of isolation or tokenism can weaken professional attachment, whilst authentic inclusion can strengthen resilience and professional identity.
I was also particularly drawn to Deci and Ryan’s Self-Determination Theory (1985), which suggests that people thrive when they experience competence, autonomy, and relatedness. For Black teachers, the opportunity to work authentically — without suppressing aspects of racial or cultural identity — may be central to experiencing mattering.
Mattering, Burnout, and Retention
The literature also suggests a strong connection between mattering, burnout, and retention. Barrenechea (2022) found that teachers who feel valued and able to add value experience higher levels of mental health and self-efficacy, reducing the likelihood of burnout. Conversely, Perryman and Calvert (2020) identify workload and work-life balance as key drivers of teachers leaving the profession. For BTs, however, these pressures may be compounded by experiences of racial marginalisation, limited recognition, or diminished belonging.
The racial dimension of mattering feels especially important in the context of the #BlackLivesMatter movement, which increased awareness of Black marginalisation and the importance of Black mattering more broadly (Carey, 2019). Within education, Kohli and Pizarro (2016) argue that BTs committed to social justice frequently experience structural and interpersonal racism, contributing to burnout and, in some cases, departure from the profession altogether.
Representation data reinforces this concern. The Department for Education (2023) reported that 85.1% of teachers in England were white British, despite significantly greater ethnic diversity within London. This underrepresentation potentially increases experiences of marginality for BTs and may undermine their sense of mattering within schools.
Progression and Professional Value
The literature also suggests that race can shape access to leadership opportunities. Miller (2016) argues that Black educators often require “white sanction” to progress professionally, whilst Wallace (2020) found that Black male teachers in London were frequently channelled into racialised roles yet blocked from senior leadership progression.
What I find striking here is the tension between praise and progression. Teachers may be valued symbolically whilst still being denied genuine access to power, influence, or advancement. Francis’ (2021) work on Black female teachers similarly found that race often had a more negative impact on professional experience than gender.
Despite these challenges, many BTs enter teaching because they genuinely want to make a difference. Perryman and Calvert (2020) identify this as a key driver for teachers, whilst Dinkins and Thomas (2016) found that some Black educators were motivated by their own difficult school experiences and a desire to become positive role models for future generations.
Conclusion
Ultimately, the literature suggests that mattering is central to understanding the experiences of Black teachers. Feeling valued, recognised, supported, and able to contribute authentically may influence not only well-being, but also retention, progression, and long-term commitment to the profession. For me, this is why mattering matters. If schools are serious about inclusion, then representation alone is not enough. We also need to ask whether Black teachers feel that they genuinely belong, whether their voices are heard, and whether their contribution is truly valued within the profession.
The LGBT Educators Report 2025
Written by Ashley Robyn Harker
Ashley Harker is a North London based Trans humanities teacher. She is a trustee of the national Woodcraft Folk and Vice-Chair of Epping Forest District Museum.
The LGBT+ Educators report highlights the prevalence of othering and discriminatory treatment of LGBT+ and particularly trans teachers working in England and Wales’s education sector.
From a survey of over 50 LGBT+ educators in the National Education Union (NEU) 78% had seriously considered leaving the teaching profession as well as 60% believing queerphobia to be on the rise in their schools and half believing that it was treated as a lesser form of discrimination by their school leadership.
Major issues found are a lack of support, trust or respect for LGBT+ educators’ identity, experiences or contributions in schools as well as repeated cases of targeting and poor treatment of LGBT+ individuals.
In terms of recruitment and retention:
- 85% of cis LGBT+ educators reported they felt they faced greater difficulties in getting a job compared with straight cis teachers.
- 40% of LGBT+ educators believed that school employers negatively considered LGBT+ candidates.
- A third of LGBT+ (40% of trans) educators had the role they applied for changed after it was offered (most usually going from a permanent role to temporary).
- Trans and Black educators on average had to interview for nearly 3 times as many roles compared with white and cis LGBT+ educators and Trans Women often have worked in more than 3 times as many schools as cis LGBT+ educators.
- 57% of binary trans educators had started their current role in the past 12 months and 80% of LGBT+ educators leaving or potentially leaving their school at the end of the academic year were trans (with 66% not securing a role).
In terms of treatment in schools:
- 45% of LGBT+ educators believed they were treated differently in the workplace, with 1/3 stating they were treated differently by colleagues including being told not to come out or hide their identity by SLT.
- 90% of LGBT+ educators had heard homophobic and transphobic language used in schools. Educators were more likely to hear and be subjected to Transphobic language than Homophobic language from colleagues.
- Only 47% of LGBT+ educators had received any form of training on LGBT+ topics in an educational setting, with only a third who had requested such training for their school having it delivered.
- Only 33% of trans educators stated they were able to use the toilets and changing facilities that aligned with their gender. 78% of trans educators had had to argue for access to school toilets.
- 93% of LGBT+ believed that how their schools acknowledged LGBT+ topics had little to no impact and 50% of educators who had attempted to include LGBT+ topics in their curriculum had been ignored or told not to.
- 18% of LGBT+ educators had not been included in school trips or residentials because of or in part because of their LGBT+ identity.
The report also highlights the impact recent and historic decisions against LGBT+ equality have had on the education sector:
- 50% of LGBT+ educators believed that their school was still impacted by Section 28 and 100% believed something similar could be put in place in the near future.
- 88% of LGBT+ (including all trans) educators reported that their mental health had deteriorated following the For Women Scotland Supreme Court ruling with 44% stating that this had impacted their ability to work. 50% reported the decision had had a negative impact on pupils.
- Only 25% had been approached or supported by colleagues following these decisions. A quarter stated that their schools had already made changes such as removing gender neutral toilets, amending pupil’s school data or denying trans staff access to toilets following the Supreme Court ruling.
The survey for the LGBT+ Educators report was carried out between May and August 2025.
The research was led by Ashley Harker and covered LGBT+ Educators experiences of recruitment, perception, policy, curriculum, bullying, training and opportunities in education.
Empowering Young People to Change the World
Written by Nicola Wetherall
Nicola is an RE teacher by training, but a specialist and Lead Practitioner for Holocaust, genocide and human rights education at Royal Wootton Bassett Academy, she curates the Empowering Young People to Change the World teacher conference series. She combines her part time role at RWBA with her Associate Professor (Teaching) role at the UCL Centre for Holocaust Education, specialising in curriculum, pedagogy and school development by supporting the Quality Mark process and Beacon School alumni engagement. Nicola founded the Holocaust, their family, me and us schools project.
This year’s DEIB Showcase for #EYP2CtW26 session felt like an expansion – a widening of what we pay attention to in schools, and a reminder that belonging is not an optional extra but a foundation.
We began with Hannah Wilson, who was joined by, and introduced us to, colleagues from the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators) network, who each brought a richness of experience, context and lived insight that was both energising and deeply grounding. But before I turn to each contribution in turn, I want to say a special thankyou to Hannah, an ally and leader who has supported #EYP2CtW26 conference for many years now, and once again curated a session for us today that was compelling, generous and full of practical wisdom.
So first we welcomed Yassar Hussain – from the UAE – who talked us through GEMS Metropole’s DEIB journey, referring to a range of scholarship that had informed that process, the importance of intentionality, student voice and agency. Yassar’s section was a powerful reminder that belonging doesn’t happen by accident, it’s built through deliberate choices around staff awareness, curriculum representation and student voice. His ‘journey’ within this work, reminded me how small, consistent actions across a year can shift culture, confidence and connection. I think that Yassar’s story offered a practical challenge for all of us: What would it look like to map our own DEIB journey across a year (staff learning, curriculum audits, student voice, community engagement) and treat it as a cycle of listening, acting and refining? For me, his contribution offered #EYP2CtW26 delegates (and me) us a template for intentional, sustainable progress, a next step be it short, medium or long term.
Next, it was a privilege to invite Monia Sahar Zahid and Claire Shooter – from HABS Elstree – who rather beautifully reminded us that belonging isn’t something you switch on in a crisis, it’s the product of the culture you’ve built long before tensions surface. Their emphasis on intellectual humility, visible inclusion and shared experiences offered a powerful blueprint for how schools can create the conditions for safety, trust and connection, even when global events hit the school gates, with a focus on the pastoral and safeguarding rather than the politics or teaching. I was struck by their noticing – their check-ins with staff and students, the human connections and deep rooted respect that revealed. I know several of the anecdotes shared, resonated powerfully with the 460+ educators accessing the session live – and the sense of thanks and gratitude for highlighting those moments was palpable in the chat forum spaces. My takeaway was need to reflect on our own readiness: Do we have the frameworks, shared language and staff confidence to hold difficult conversations before they arrive at our door? The SAFE framework they shared with us and emphasis on defensible decision‑making offer practical starting points for schools wanting to strengthen their approach to belonging, identity and conflict‑sensitive practice. So this was great to share.
Last but not least we were pleased to host Azuraye Williams from the Transform Trust, her contribution brought us back to something deceptively simple but deeply important: belonging starts with people, not paperwork. Her trust‑wide work showed how culture, connection and relationships must come before policies if we want DEIB to be lived rather than laminated, a reminder that systems only shift when humans do. Colleagues were taken with the meaningful and purposeful work undertaken to engage governors, but for me Azuraye left us a practical challenge: How well do we really know the belonging story of our own school? Her trust‑wide approach (surveying every child, engaging DEIB leads, and focusing on each school’s unique context) offered a clear starting point for any setting wanting to move from intention to impact.
It was that intentionality across the session was noticeable and built upon Hannah’s introductory remarks and concluding framing of belonging as a human need. Each contribution built on the last: from GEMS Metropole’s DEEI journey, to navigating global conflict at HABS Elstree, to trust‑wide belonging work at Transform Trust, and throughout, the examples shared (curriculum audits, microaggressions training, belonging surveys, pupil‑led research, ‘people before policies’) reminding us that belonging is not a slogan. It is a practice. A culture. A way of showing up for one another in schools.
In a climate where DEIB work is sometimes misrepresented or politicised, today was a powerful reminder that this work is not about ideology. It is rights‑respecting, dignity‑affirming, and safeguarding‑aligned. It is about ensuring that every child (and every adult) feels safe, seen, valued and able to bring their whole self into a school community. Nothing more complicated, nothing more controversial than that – and yet, the work can feel lonely, induce anxiety and expose vulnerability. I am deeply grateful to Hannah, Yassar, Claire, Monia and Azuraye, for their time, expertise and generosity of sharing, and this thread and spirit continues across the rest of the week.
If you missed this year’s DEIB Showcase for #EYP2CtW26 you can catch up here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5Qv_qeF-NpWPGep25cYsrp0zuYDEPH9c
I’m reminded again that when educators gather with honesty, courage and care, we don’t just learn, we widen our circle of belonging, and in doing so, we create the conditions for empowered young people to do the same.
Supporting refugee students in UK schools displaced by war and conflict zones
Written by Muna Mitchell
Muna has held Senior Leadership positions in Pastoral, SEND and Safeguarding along with teaching Science in secondary schools across Botswana, Oman and the UK. She Studied for an M.Ed. in Inclusion and Diversity with a focus on supporting Refugees in Education.
As described by the UNHCR “A refugee is a person who has been forced to flee their country due to war, violence, or serious threats to their life, and who requires international protection.”
A total of 117 million people at the end of 2025 were displaced from their homes due to conflict and violence and of those 42 million people became refugees of which approximately 20 million are children. The UNCRC (2000) clearly states that “Every child has a right to an education” however, UNICEF research has shown that children and their subsequent educational chances pay a heavy price during conflict. Education suffers through damage to school buildings by bombing and gunfire, the death or injury of teachers and support staff and the use of school buildings by soldiers. In a war zone, the education system is not the priority as families struggle to find food, shelter, and safety. This means that the education pathway of refugee children may have been interrupted for many years prior to them seeking asylum.
Continued global humanitarian crises force people into countries that are often very dissimilar from their home cultures. Sheikh and Anderson (2018) describe how refugees suffer from profound culture shock on arrival in the UK and must undergo a period of acculturation. Sometimes as a refugee this acculturation occurs more than once depending on the individual person’s journey and the countries they have travelled through. Fuller and Hayes (2020) describe how the experiences a refugee encounters on first arrival are often just as traumatising as those experiences that were left behind. This interweaves the themes of past and present and suggests strongly that in education, for example the voices of child refugees need to be regularly consulted. It seems essential that we ensure that we are not making assumptions around which life experiences are causing distress and where our support needs to be focussed.
The UNHCR has acknowledged that young refugees often have high academic aspirations with education seen as a reliable way to escape less than ideal current circumstances and tertiary education particularly held in high esteem. It also states that higher education and skills are a critical link between learning and earning which allows for sustainable futures and enhanced social cohesion. Stevenson and Willott (2007) suggest that one of the main barriers to education is the initial struggle with academic language and refugees who are given multiple opportunities of English language training with an academic focus are much more likely to attend school. Lack of English language skills make it difficult not only for students to progress in their learning but to make emotional connections with other pupils and staff. The Bristol Refugee Rights impact report (2020/21) states that “There is a lack of strong English progression pathways and support into higher education. Much of the provision is unaccredited and the curriculum is not prescribed.” For schools, there are additional challenges to overcome to provide the right support and monitor student progress and attainment as there is often limited prior data for many refugee students. Education which had been completed in other countries is not always recognized. For example, refugee students may have English Language certificates from their home countries which in theory they could use to access university courses, but UK universities only accept a certificate of English language proficiency (IELTS) which can be expensive to complete.
Refugees who are aiming for Higher Education can sometimes be under tight time constraints to fit into a rigid school system in the UK. Bajwa et al (2017) concludes that refugees entering straight into the secondary school system have a lack of time to establish trust and can sometimes be mistrustful around public figures which impacts their ability to progress forward. As Gately (2018) concludes it is challenging in a short space of time to establish strong pupil staff relationships which could provide guidance for next steps and support refugee students in understanding the options available to them.
The Schools of Sanctuary (2021) network which includes stakeholders such as teachers, support staff, parents, governors, and community groups has as one of its central theme’s being pupil voice. Lawrence (2019) explains that “the voices of child refugees are forgotten, and young people are not regularly consulted about their needs or coping strategies” As mentioned above, the main difficulties of accessing education are language barriers, arrival point in terms of education, lack of informed choices and overcoming gaps in education created by conflict. The key turning point for these children and their subsequent entry to Higher Education seems to centre around their GCSE and A level choices. There are institutional barriers to higher education for students from ethnic minority groups, for students who are then also refugees these barriers are even higher.
Sexuality, privacy, and professional safety
Written by Emma Swift
Emma Swift is a Vice Principal and former trust-wide subject lead for a multi academy trust, specialising in science and initial teacher training. She is the subject lead for Physics for the National Institute of Teaching and Education.
On being visible, being private, and deciding what to carry at work
For some teachers, sexuality is something that barely enters their working life.
For others, it is something they think about constantly not because they want to, but because it shapes how visible, safe, or exposed they feel at work.
This difference matters.
Heteronormativity and the illusion of “not sharing”
Many heterosexual teachers will say they don’t talk about their sexuality at work and genuinely believe it.
But mentioning a spouse, a partner, a weekend plan, or a family photo on a desk is already a form of disclosure. It’s simply one that aligns with what students and colleagues expect, so it passes unnoticed.
For LGBTQ+ teachers, the same casual references can feel loaded. A simple pronoun choice can suddenly feel like a decision with consequences.
This isn’t about oversensitivity. It’s about risk awareness.
Being “out” is not a single decision
There is a persistent narrative that being out is an all-or-nothing state: either you are open, or you are hiding.
The reality is far more nuanced.
You may be:
- Out to colleagues but not students
- Out in one school but not another
- Open in some contexts and private in others
- Comfortable one year and cautious the next
None of these positions are dishonest.
They are strategic.
Teaching is not a neutral workplace. It is shaped by:
- Community attitudes
- School culture
- Leadership support
- Student maturity
- Media narratives
Your safety and wellbeing sit within all of that.
You do not owe visibility to anyone
There can be subtle and sometimes explicit – pressure on LGBTQ+ teachers to be visible “for the students”.
Representation matters.
But representation should never come at the cost of personal safety.
No individual teacher is responsible for fixing systemic inequality.
You are allowed to prioritise:
- Emotional safety
- Job security
- Mental health
- Professional focus
Choosing privacy is not a failure of courage.
It is an assessment of context.
The classroom is not a neutral space
Students talk. Families talk. Communities talk. What is said in a classroom rarely stays there. This is not paranoia – it is experience. Before sharing anything personal, it’s worth asking:
- How might this be repeated?
- How might it be reframed?
- How might it be misunderstood?
Once information enters the student sphere, control over it is lost. That doesn’t mean you should never share; no it means you should share deliberately.
Managing questions about relationships
Students may ask:
“Do you have a husband/wife?”
“Are you married?”
“Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?”
You are not required to correct assumptions. You are not required to disclose.
Neutral responses can include:
“I keep my personal life private.”
“That’s not something I discuss with students.”
“I’m here as your teacher.”
Some teachers choose gender-neutral language.
Some choose redirection.
Some choose openness.
The key is that you decide, not the moment.
Professional safety is not the same as secrecy
There is an important distinction between secrecy and privacy.
- Secrecy is driven by fear.
- Privacy is driven by choice.
You can be open with trusted colleagues and private with students. You can advocate for inclusion without narrating your life. You can support LGBTQ+ students without positioning yourself as evidence.
Your professionalism is not diminished by boundaries.
Who gets asked to do the work
In many schools, inclusion work doesn’t get distributed evenly. It often lands on the people most affected by it. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been asked to deliver the “LGBT assembly” or lead something for LGBT History Month. As a senior leader, I’m always willing to do an assembly that’s part of the role. But there’s an extra layer here that often goes unacknowledged.
When you are the one standing in front of a room talking about LGBTQ+ lives, you are also the one absorbing the reaction. The looks. The comments. The atmosphere. And when students express strong views which are sometimes openly homophobic, it is often the person most directly affected who is expected to manage that moment.
That carries a cost.
I still remember, around sixteen years ago, sitting in an assembly where a heterosexual male teacher spoke about Alan Turing his work, and what was done to him. It stirred something in me I wasn’t used to feeling in school. At the time, hearing LGBTQ+ lives acknowledged at all felt rare.
That moment stayed with me. And part of why it mattered was that it didn’t come from someone who had to carry the personal weight of it. There’s a difference between choosing to share and being positioned as the one who should. Even smaller moments of coming out can carry that same weight. Not just the big, defining conversations – sometimes it’s the quieter ones that stay with you.
I remember telling one of my A Level classes while working in North London. I wasn’t sure how they would respond, particularly given the strength of religious belief in the room. I had prepared myself for discomfort. Instead, they were warm, protective, and thoughtful. It meant a great deal.
Sometime after I left, one of those students wrote to me. She said she wanted to go into teaching and wrote: “I thought I wanted to be the teacher I needed. Then I realised I wanted to be the person I had.”
That stayed with me.
It’s also important to say that these experiences aren’t the same for everyone. As a lesbian, I’m aware that I may be navigating less immediate risk than some of my gay male colleagues. Context matters too – subjects, age groups, school culture. A PE teacher, for example, may face a very different set of challenges to a science teacher.
All of this shapes who feels able to speak, and when. Which is why inclusion work shouldn’t quietly default to the same people, again and again.
When schools talk about inclusion
If a school claims to value inclusion, that should show up in:
- Clear policies
- Leadership behaviour
- Responses to incidents
- How staff are supported, not showcased
Be wary of environments where inclusion is performative, but protection is absent.
A genuinely inclusive school does not pressure staff into visibility. It ensures that if staff are visible, they are safe.
A final thought
Sexuality at work is not about honesty versus hiding. It’s about context, consent, and control. You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to reassess. You are allowed to protect yourself. Professional safety is not selfish.
It is what allows you to keep doing the work well and to keep yourself intact while you do it.
AI Will Shape Education - But Who Gets to Shape AI?
Written by Belonging Effect
Belonging Effect is committed to shaping intention into impact and supporting people with their Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, & Belonging strategy and training needs.
Artificial intelligence is already changing education. From lesson planning and assessment tools to tutoring platforms and student support systems, AI is becoming embedded in how schools operate and how young people learn. The conversation is no longer about whether AI will influence education. It already does.
The real question is this: Who gets to shape the future of AI in education?
Because AI is not neutral. Every AI system reflects the decisions, assumptions, priorities, and perspectives of the people who build it. The data selected. The questions asked. The problems chosen to solve. The voices included – and excluded – from the room.
If we are not intentional, AI risks reinforcing the very inequities education is trying to disrupt. And that matters deeply for schools.
We have already seen examples of AI systems producing biased outcomes:
- Recruitment algorithms favouring certain demographics
- Writing detection tools disproportionately flagging multilingual learners
- Facial recognition systems performing less accurately on darker skin tones
- Predictive technologies reinforcing historical inequalities rather than challenging them
Bias in AI is often not malicious. But it can become invisible, automated, and scaled at a speed education systems have never seen before. That is why educators must be part of shaping AI strategy – not simply responding to it after decisions have already been made.
Teachers, school leaders, inclusion specialists, youth workers, parents, and community voices bring something essential to this conversation: human understanding. Educators understand context: they understand belonging; they understand lived experience; they understand the difference between efficiency and equity.
If AI strategy is shaped only by technologists and commercial interests, we risk creating systems that optimise for speed and standardisation over humanity and inclusion.
But there is another possibility…
AI could become a powerful tool for accessibility, creativity, personalisation, and opportunity – if a broader and more diverse range of people are involved in shaping what responsible AI looks like in practice.
That means we need more diverse voices and thinkers involved: more perspectives; more challenge; more collaboration. We need people from different backgrounds, communities, cultures, identities, and professional experiences helping to shape the future of AI in education. Not because diversity is a “nice to have,” but because it is a safeguard against harm.
At The Belonging Effect, we believe belonging and equity must sit at the centre of conversations about innovation and technology. That is why we are inviting our network to get involved.
Over the coming months, we will be hosting a series of free webinars exploring AI, education, equity, and belonging. These sessions are designed to create accessible spaces for educators and leaders to learn, question, challenge, and contribute to the conversation – regardless of their starting point with AI.
We are also collaborating on a fully funded training programme with our partners at CVP Group for educators and professionals who want to deepen their understanding of AI, inclusive practice, and ethical leadership in this rapidly evolving space.
We are keen to amplify more diverse voices in this conversation as too often, discussions about AI are dominated by a narrow range of perspectives so we want to help change that. Therefore, we are actively looking to publish blogs, reflections, case studies, and opinion pieces from educators, practitioners, community leaders, and changemakers from diverse backgrounds who are thinking critically about AI, inclusion, belonging, and the future of education.
You do not need to be an AI expert. You do not need to work in technology. If you care about equity, representation, belonging, and the future young people are inheriting, your voice matters, because the future of AI in education should not be built for communities without them – it must be built with them.
This moment presents both a challenge and an opportunity as the decisions being made now will shape classrooms, opportunities, and experiences for years to come. We cannot afford for those decisions to be shaped by only a small group of voices. Disrupting bias in AI starts with diversifying who is involved in shaping strategy and that work belongs to all of us.
The future of AI is being written right now. The question is whether education – and the communities most impacted by these technologies – will help write the story.
To join one of our free webinars, apply for the fully funded training programme, or contribute a blog to our growing community of voices, connect with The Belonging Effect today. Our monthly newsletter will be out on Wednesday.
Together, let’s ensure the future of AI in education is inclusive, ethical, and rooted in belonging.
Race and Leadership Roles in Schools – My Story
Written by Patrick Cozier
Patrick Cozier is a headteacher, a coach and the author of Calm Leadership.
Desire to be a Headteacher
I came into teaching because of a desire to make a difference to the lives of children. I have always believed that education has the ability to transform lives and create opportunities for young people. My own personal example is one that I always draw strength from. My parents came over from Barbados in the 1960s as part of the Windrush generation – my mother an auxiliary nurse and my father a postal worker. They came here with the intention of creating a better life for their children than they had experienced. Education was at the heart of this dream. And so, it began…
I started teaching in September 1994, in South London. I knew by 1996 that I wanted to be a Headteacher. Working in a school with a high number of Black and Asian children, I could see the impact that myself and some other Black staff in the school had on connecting with those students and providing role models to fuel their aspiration. I recognised pretty early that if we could have that effect as teachers, the potential for Black and Asian leaders to create a significant positive impact was huge. I wanted to be THAT person. From that moment on, everything that I did in my teaching career was done with the intention to propel me towards that aim.
For me it was interesting, because I did not at the time view being Black as a disadvantage. I felt very much as though it was one of my big selling points. I always felt that my ‘Blackness’ (i.e., my cultural heritage, skill set, adaptability, and shared experiences with children from African and Caribbean heritage) would place me in a strong position to lead a school with a mix of cultures. In the early days of my career, I did not see barriers – just dreams, ambitions and goals.
What I did not consider was that my own sense of value and self-belief was only half the story. The challenge was finding ways to ensure that others (in particular governors doing the selecting) could see in me what I saw in me. This was a much bigger challenge than I had anticipated, and I think explains to a large extent why there are comparatively few senior leaders and Headteachers from Black and Asian backgrounds represented in the profession.
Gov.UK – School Teacher Workforce February 2021 shows
- in 2019, 85.7% of all teachers in state-funded schools in England were White British (where ethnicity was known)
- 78.5% of the working age population was White British at the time of the 2011 Census
- 92.7% of headteachers were White British
| Ethnicity | % of the Working Population | % of
Classroom Teachers |
% of Deputies and Assistant Heads | % of Headteachers |
| White British | 85.7 | 84.9 | 89.7 | 92.7 |
| White Irish | 1.5 | 1.5 | 1.7 | 1.8 |
Source: School Workforce in England: November 2019 https://explore-education-statistics.service.gov.uk/find-statistics/school-workforce-in-england
The data in the table above gives a clear indication of the national picture. The percentage of White British teachers in 2019 (84.9) was almost identical to the percentage of the working population that was White British (85.7). The percentage of Headteachers who were White British at this time was 92.7, which shows an over-representation.
Contrast this with the same data for Black African, Black Caribbean and Black Other below.
| Ethnicity | % of the Working Population | % of
Classroom Teachers |
% of Deputies and Assistant Heads | % of Headteachers |
| Black African | 1.9 | 1.0 | 0.4 | 0.2 |
| Black Caribbean | 1.2 | 1.1 | 1.0 | 0.7 |
| Black Other | 0.5 | 0.4 | 0.2 | 0.1 |
Source: School Workforce in England: November 2019 https://explore-education-statistics.service.gov.uk/find-statistics/school-workforce-in-england
The proportion of Headteachers is a significant under-representation of Black heads and as compared to both the general working population and the proportion of classroom teachers.
What this points to is the comparatively poor progression that has been made in the profession for our Black African and Black Caribbean colleagues. So, what is the story here?
There are many theories for why the number of Black Headteachers is so low.
- Poor/biased recruitment processes
- Insufficient opportunities for development of our Black teachers in school
- Black teachers do not want to apply because
- they do not believe they will be given an opportunity or
- they do not see headship itself as an attractive prospect or
- They feel the situation of headship for a person of colour is precarious as they will be judged harshly if things go wrong
In my conversations with colleagues over the years I have encountered all of the above scenarios. It seems to be commonplace and the data certainly supports this view – that is, unless you believe in the meritocratic theory and your view is that there are just insufficient Black candidates who are up to the job. I personally can’t and won’t accept this as a position.
My own journey was nearly derailed by one line manager who tried to sabotage my first ever application for a senior leadership position. This was back in 2001. I was a head of year, and I was keen on promotion. I was confident and believed that I was ready. My line manager did not and told me so – I recall her specific words were ‘I would be worried if you were appointed to a senior leadership role’. Now to be fair, I don’t know whether my Blackness had anything to do with her view, but I do not that she failed to see the potential in me at the time.
However, I was fortunate in that I was confident, and my Headteacher at the time believed in my capacity to do a great job as a senior leader. His support turned out to be critical as following a very successful interview process I was informed by the school that I had applied to that the two references that they had received were in contrast – one very supportive and the other less so. I found that disappointing, but sadly predictable.
The Headteacher of the school that I had applied to (who in the end decided to appoint me) explained to me that what they saw and felt throughout my gruelling two-day interview process was more aligned to the reference from my Headteacher, than that of my immediate line manager – so they took a chance and believed in me. I haven’t looked back since.
But now I think… was I just one of the lucky ones?
Much can be done to change this situation. For example,
- The government should invest in the diversity of our sector and fund leadership development programmes for people of colour.
- Governing bodies need to think about their own makeup and be genuinely committed to proactively recruiting governors who represent the communities served by the school.
- Governing bodies also need to consider how a lack of diversity influences the decisions they make when recruiting senior leaders – in particular they need to seek out training in unconscious bias and use their learning from that to shape thought and process.
- More of our current crop of leaders of colour need to adhere to the ‘each one, teach one’ mantra – we have to give back and help our more junior colleagues navigate their way through the system the way that we have through coaching, mentoring and offering opportunities for work experience and shadowing.
Afraid of own shadow
I started my first headship at the age of 34 in September 2006, just 18 months after I have first become a deputy. It was sooner than I had anticipated, and it was scary. Despite my clear ambition to be a headteacher, I was not expecting it quite so soon. And the truth was, I was not quite ready for what I was taking on. I think I was scared of my own shadow! I was confident that I could learn quickly (and boy, did I have to!), but the journey was a very challenging one and extended me in ways that I did not know was possible.
I was an internal candidate. I applied for the job because I wanted to take advantage of the experience of applying for headships and going through the process. I applied because I was convinced by those around me that I would be a good candidate for the job. I applied because I wanted to compare myself to the competition. Never (and I mean like, ever) did I imagine I would get the job, until the second day of interviews when I was down to the final three candidates from over 30 applicants. Then it hit me… This was REAL! After I was successful on day 2 and I was offered the job, I responded by asking the then Chair of Governors, ‘Are you sure?’. In hindsight, that was a silly (albeit honest) thing to say based on how I felt at the time.
I was excited, but also petrified. To talk about ‘imposter syndrome’ would not do how I felt at the time any justice. I remember saying to my coach (who was a very experienced ex-headteacher) that I just couldn’t get used to the feeling of constantly being on the edge of my comfort zone. It was just not something that I was prepared for.
The first few years were tough and represented a very steep learning curve. My first challenge was not so much about leading the school as leading my colleagues. I was the last one in – the young pretender. Suddenly, I was thrust into having to manage a team of people who were more experienced than I was and who had been at my school for longer than me. My confidence to make decisions when others who I had great respect for, and a sense of awe in some cases, disagreed.
There was also the added pressure of being a young Black Headteacher, at the time one of only 11 secondary school male Black Headteachers of African-Caribbean heritage in the UK. I felt proud, but also daunted. I enjoyed the wearing the cloak of representation. A particular source of joy and strength for me was hearing from Black parents how pleased they were to see me in my role and how much they were rooting for me. That always touched me (and still does) and I used it as fuel to overcome some of the fears of the role. I have always embraced this responsibility as a privilege rather than a burden. However, it is not easy.
The need to be extra-vigilant about what one says is tough and draining. The feeling of being a lone voice at the many tables at which one sits in Headship and as a system leader can be frustrating and dispiriting. These all make the job much more demanding as a person of colour.
However the biggest difficulty that I had as a new Headteacher (and admittedly still now at times) was the propensity that I had for editing myself. It is hard to explain, but as a Black person in a position of leadership there are certain stereotypes about Black people that you are aware of and wish to avoid. I found myself minimising certain aspects of my culture and natural state of being. Below are some examples, with differing degrees of seriousness.
- Turning down my music in the car as I drive through the gates in the morning – not wanting other staff to hear the beautiful thumping reggae beats that set up my positive and confident mood for the day.
- Being cool and calm at ALL times. I was very aware of the stereotype of the ‘angry Black man’, and I never wanted to fall foul of this.
- Restricting the desire to challenge racism whenever and wherever I witnessed it. As a Black person you see it all the time in various different explicit and implicit guises and you want to call it out – but the editing process leads you to pick your battles carefully as you don’t want to be seen as that Black person where ‘everything is about race’.
- I edited my accent. Around friends and family it is entirely natural to speak in our heavy patois dialect. There were times in the early days where I wanted to do so with Black colleagues or students to accentuate that connection and shared experience through a shared language, but the pressure of being the Black Headteacher prevented me from doing so.
When I reflect now on how important these issues are, the conclusion that I draw is that they are crucial. It isn’t so much about the trivial nature of some of the edits described above. There is something more fundamental taking place in my view that gnaws away at the very purpose of diversity. Having diversity in leadership can only make a difference if leaders bring their diversity in with them as they travel through the school gates. To edit oneself is to lose the very difference that your diversity can make. It essentially turns everyone into a middle-class white man.
Based on my reflections of my own journey and experiences, I now make a point of telling our young aspiring Black leaders to be themselves. I tell them that their authenticity is actually what matters the most. They each can bring something different to the role if they are prepared to be brave and resist the temptation to edit.
In the early stages of my headship, I had great support from a range of coaches that I saw in my first few years in post – and each helped me significantly in very different ways. As well as the need to feel like I was worthy of the job, I had that added need to stop falling to the temptation of editing myself. I learned a lot from my coaches. The helped me make sense of my experiences and supported the development of the sense of perspective that I have honed over time. However, my early struggles were tough – and when I think of it now, I reflect on how I might have changed the nature of that support if I could go back as an experienced leader now and help my younger, less experienced self. I have been developing something I refer to as ‘Calm Leadership’ as a means of addressing this (What is calm leadership and why is it important? (sec-ed.co.uk)).
Getting Diversity in a Team Which Is Not Diverse
Although diversity in leadership is the ultimate aim to ensure that leadership is inclusive in its purpose and function, the reality is that many teams are not there in terms of the representation among the leadership. Getting the team to that point is a long-term strategy. In the meantime, it is important to find ways to work with what you have to increase awareness, understanding and to promote diversity of thought and approach.
I have a leadership team that is not diverse. We represent a school community that looks different from the team of senior leaders who are there to represent them. The same is true of my wider staff body. We have done a number of things over the last couple of years to try to move things forward. Some examples are shared below:
- We got our leadership team to read the book White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo and Brit(ish): On Race, Identity and Belonging by Afua Hirsch and to reflect on their own views, perspectives and practice
- Presentation from the me to staff on my own journey to being a Headteacher – sharing my experiences as a Black boy in North London to a Black man
- We showed staff videos recordings of our Black and Asian students talking about their experiences at our school
- We weaved our equality targets into our SDP – so every other departmental plan must reference this
- All student data is broken down and analysed by a range of sub-criteria including ethnic background
- We have a Racial Equity governor
- We have created a Student Cultural Diversity Forum (early stages)
- Zero tolerance of any racist behaviours – even against ‘your own’
- Staff have received training in unconscious bias
- We have reviewed our approach to promoting positive behaviours utilising the skills and experience of an external behaviour specialist
- Every member of staff was given the opportunity to have a book on anti-racism brought for them to read for the summer – 65 took up the offer! We have met twice since September to review, learn and apply
Race and Leadership Roles in Schools
Race matters. Visibility matters. Diversity matters. In leadership roles, they matter even more… so long as they actually make a difference.
Authenticity is the key. We have to train people to be their authentic selves as diverse leaders in order for the diversity of their experiences, backgrounds, thinking approaches and views to bring something different to the table.
In order to benefit from this, we need to make sure that we are doing more to encourage and bring the talent pool of ethnic global majority leaders through the system. We need to get more Black and Asian teachers into the profession and then help them progress their journeys through to leadership. To do this we must carefully consider the current barriers and blockers as to why this is not already the case and find ways to overcome them. This will take leadership at all levels, from the UK Government, down to Local Authorities and Multi-Academy Trusts and ultimately with the school governors and leaders.
If Black and Asian Leaders succeed, then everybody does!
Everyday Sexism: A Powerful Call to Action from Laura Bates - What Schools Can No Longer Ignore
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
When Laura Bates, founder of the Everyday Sexism Project, addressed the room of boarding school headteachers and senior leaders, her message was not abstract, ideological, or optional. It was urgent, and it was evidence-based.
Drawing on what is now one of the largest datasets of its kind – over 250,000 testimonies, many from children – Bates laid out a reality that schools are already part of, whether they recognise it or not.
This Is Not a “Girls’ Issue”
One of the clearest points: sexism is not about being “anti-boys.” It is instead about the ecosystem young people are growing up in. Rigid gender stereotypes harm everyone – shaping body image pressures for both girls and boys, narrowing subject choices, and reinforcing harmful expectations about relationships, power, and identity.
The idea of a “gender war” or “battle of the sexes” is not only misleading, it actively prevents progress. Instead, Bates reframed the issue: this is about culture, not conflict.
The Scale and Subtlety of the Problem
Some statistics that she shared were stark and made me feel really uncomfortable, despite being familiar with most of them:
- 86% of women in the UK report experiencing sexual harassment
- 72% of women report sexism in the classroom
- 71% of 16-year-old girls report being called “slut” or “slag” on a weekly basis
But just as important is what Bates called “subtle sexism.”
This is the quiet shaping of expectations:
- which subjects feel “appropriate”
- how physical spaces exclude women and girls
- whose voices are taken seriously
- how authority – especially female authority – is undermined
These are not isolated incidents: they are cumulative; they are structured; they are reinforced through media, advertising, peer culture, and increasingly, algorithms.
Language Matters More Than We Admit
The distinction between “groping” and “sexual harassment” is not semantic – it is cultural. So too is the shift from focusing on victims to naming perpetrators, and from passive bystanders to active upstanders. Language shapes what young people think is normal, tolerable, or reportable. If we minimise behaviours in how we speak about them, we normalise them in practice.
As a former English teacher, and now DEIB trainer, the power of language and our language choices are something I think about a lot and explore with our clients regularly.
The Online World Is Not Separate From School
A major theme was the widening gap between adults and young people in digital spaces. Most educators and parents are not digital natives. Yet, their students and their children are.
This gap matters because the online environment is not neutral – it is actively shaping attitudes:
- Influencers like Andrew Tate have amassed billions of views
- Algorithmic pathways can lead users toward extreme misogynistic content in minutes
- Exposure to pornography is now commonly reported around age 13
Bates referenced the “manosphere” – a network of online communities where ideas such as “AWALT” (“all women are like this”) circulate and harden. This is not fringe content. It is mainstream, accessible, and often gamified.
A New Frontier: AI and Exploitation
If that was not enough for us to deal with in our schools and in our homes, then the emerging technologies that are accelerating the problem are the next challenge we face:
- Deepfake and “nudify” tools enabling new forms of abuse
- AI “girlfriends” reshaping expectations of relationships
- Gamified, exploitative systems rewarding harmful behaviour
- Poorly regulated virtual spaces (including metaverses) lacking safeguarding measures
The direction of travel is clear and really concerning. I am conscious that I am not a parent, I am no longer a headteacher and I have recently stood down from being a trustee who led on safeguarding, but I care deeply about our sector, about our society and about our young people. So sitting in a room of school leaders I felt the palpable weight of responsibility on their shoulders as they began to process the enormity of what is rapidly attacking our schools and our homes.
The Youngest Are Most at Risk
Perhaps the most sobering insight: the youngest generation is not the most protected – it is the most exposed. Grooming, radicalisation, and exploitation are no longer rare nor exceptional risks. They are structural features of the environments young people inhabit – and schools sit at the intersection of all of this.
So What Can Schools Do?
Bates did not leave the room without direction but offered some practical advice and signposting.
Effective responses are not one-off assemblies or reactive policies. They are cultural and sustained:
- Start early: challenge gender stereotypes in early childhood
- Explore openly: normalise discussion of relationships, consent, and respect
- Intervene consistently: address language, behaviour, and culture in real time
- Encourage allyship: shift from bystanders to upstanders
- Support staff: particularly where female authority is undermined
- Involve parents: bridging the digital knowledge gap is essential
This is where she signposted organisations such as Tender, Lifting Limits, Beyond Equality, and Bold Voices are already doing critical work alongside schools.
A Cultural Shift, Not a Checklist
Perhaps the most important takeaway is this: sexism does not operate in a vacuum. It is built on foundations – early stereotypes, repeated messages, normalised behaviours.
Which means the solution is not a single intervention, but a process of deconstruction:
- recognising the patterns
- naming them
- and creating genuine alternatives for young people
This is not about removing choice – it is about creating it.
The Question That Remains
Bates left the audience with an implicit challenge to consider: not whether schools should respond – but whether they are prepared for what is already here, and what is coming next. She held up a mirror to remind us that the culture shaping young people today is moving faster than most institutions, so ignoring it is no longer a neutral act.
BSA – thanks for creating the space at the annual conference for this talk (and Gaelle thanks for the invitation to be in the room). Laura – thanks for the clarity and the data that you brought to the conversation.