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?
Curriculum is Never Neutral
Written by Shilpa Darbar
With over a decade of experience as Head of History, Shilpa’s experience extends beyond classroom instruction to strategic leadership in curriculum development. She has reshaped the History curriculum to promote diversity and inclusiveness, a mission echoed in her published work with Impact and on her Substack. Her expertise in public speaking aids in advocating for educational innovation and elevating varied perspectives.
After sixteen years in education, I’ve realised that the most valuable professional learning hasn’t come from courses or conferences. It’s come from conversations with colleagues, moments of reflection after lessons, and the experiences that have quietly reshaped how I think about teaching, curriculum and leadership.
Those experiences are why I’m starting this newsletter.
Over the years, I’ve collected questions, ideas, successes, mistakes and moments that have challenged my thinking. This is a space to explore them. I’ll be writing about curriculum, middle leadership, diversity and inclusion in education, and the realities of trying to lead meaningful change in schools. I certainly don’t have all the answers—but I do have plenty of questions that I think are worth asking.
Looking back, my journey from NQT to Head of History has been shaped by a series of opportunities that stretched me well beyond my comfort zone.
In my very first year of teaching, I was given the chance to help develop a new Current Affairs programme for Key Stage 3. It was designed to improve pupils’ understanding of the world around them, and although it felt like a daunting responsibility at the time, those lessons quickly became my favourite part of the week.
I loved the challenge of taking complex global issues and transforming them into lessons that encouraged curiosity, discussion and critical thinking. More than anything, I remember my students’ reactions. They were often shocked by the injustice, conflict and inequality they encountered in the news. Their innocence and incredulity at the actions of so-called “grown-ups” was both heart-breaking and deeply hopeful.
In those moments, I found myself thinking: if they respond with such disbelief to the world’s problems, perhaps they will grow up to do better than the generations before them.
Looking back now, I can see that those lessons changed something in me as much as they did my students.
I had trained to teach History, but I was beginning to realise that the most important questions in education often sit beyond the boundaries of any one subject. How do we help young people make sense of the world? How do we nurture curiosity alongside knowledge? How do we prepare students not just to pass exams, but to participate thoughtfully in society?
Without realising it, this was the first of many moments that would shape my philosophy of education. It pushed me towards thinking about educating the whole child—not just through my beloved subject of History, but through every opportunity we have to develop thoughtful, informed and compassionate young people.
Not long afterwards, I also took on the role of Debating Coordinator. Once again, I found myself drawn to work that extended beyond my subject specialism. I wanted students to become confident speakers who could listen carefully, challenge ideas respectfully and build arguments based on evidence rather than opinion. Watching students discover their voice—sometimes literally—reinforced my growing belief that education is about far more than examination results.
As my career progressed into middle leadership, the questions evolved. I became just as interested in leading people as leading curriculum. How do you bring colleagues with you when introducing change? How do you build a department culture where everyone feels valued and challenged? How do you make decisions that are both strategically sound and deeply human?
These are the questions that continue to occupy my thinking today.
My Substack newsletter is my place to think out loud. I’ll share reflections from my own classroom and department, practical ideas that have worked (and those that haven’t), thoughts on curriculum and diversity, and lessons I’ve learnt through leading others. Some posts will be practical, others more reflective, but all will be rooted in the belief that education is ultimately about helping young people flourish.
If you’re a teacher, middle leader, curriculum enthusiast or simply someone who enjoys thinking deeply about education, I hope you’ll find something here that resonates.
RIP Professor Jason Arday: The Tragic Cost of Scrutiny
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
Rest in peace, Professor Jason Arday.
The news of his death at just 41 years old is heartbreaking and devastating. A partner, father, son, friend and colleague has been lost.
My social media timeline is awash with tributes to a man who impacted so many. I never met Professor Jason Arday, but I followed and admired him from afar. I feel deeply sad at his loss, angry at how he was treated and sick to my stomach that we find ourselves standing at yet another crossroads where our shared humanity is being questioned.
Professor Arday, a working-class Black man, became the youngest Black professor in the University of Cambridge’s history. His remarkable journey, scholarship and leadership should be remembered and celebrated.
His death is a devastating loss to education. It should also make us confront some difficult questions about racism, scrutiny, trauma, mental health, the media and institutional responsibility.
Content warning: This article discusses mental health, racism and death.
Contribution
Professor Jason Arday dedicated his life to challenging inequality in education, opening doors for those too often left outside them and pushing institutions to become more reflective of the society they serve.
His work helped shape important conversations about race, social mobility, inclusion and educational justice.
A post by The Black Curriculum reminds us that in moments like these, we all have a choice about the stories we amplify. Let us not reduce a life of service, scholarship and advocacy to its final chapter:
- Let us remember the work.
- Let us remember the impact.
- Let us remember the lives changed because he dared to imagine something better.
We need to drive the right narrative, to honour the legacy and to remember the work.
Accusations, Accountability and Humanity
Professor Arday faced serious public accusations concerning his academic work and other aspects of his record. He disputed allegations of deliberate wrongdoing, and some previous allegations had not been upheld.
I fully agree that questions about academic integrity deserve proper scrutiny.
Accountability matters. Investigations matter. Evidence matters. Truth matters.
But people matter too.
An investigation should never become a process in which we forget there is a human being at its centre.
Professor Arday’s family has spoken about the impact of sustained abuse, harassment and misinformation. The precise circumstances surrounding his death have not yet been established publicly, and we should be careful not to claim a medical or legal cause that has not been confirmed.
But acknowledging that uncertainty does not require us to ignore the context in which his death occurred.
Everyone deserves fairness, due process and an opportunity to respond to allegations without being subjected to relentless public humiliation. Scrutiny and accountability are not the same as dehumanisation.
The Media
I firmly believe that our media needs to take a long, hard look at itself.
Professor Arday was subjected to an extraordinary level of public scrutiny. NEWSCORD has catalogued 249 articles published about him over a period of just 22 days.
Think about that… Two hundred and forty-nine articles… Twenty-two days…
Front pages and headlines are not produced in a vacuum. Editors decide which stories deserve repeated attention. Algorithms reward outrage and engagement. Audiences click, share, comment and search for the next revelation.
Collectively, a human being can become content.
Whatever the rights and wrongs of the allegations against Professor Arday, we must be able to ask whether this level and intensity of scrutiny was proportionate and in the public interest.
We must also be prepared to ask another, more uncomfortable question:
Would everybody have been subjected to the same scrutiny?
This is where it is important that we need to acknowledge and talk about racism.
If we cast our memories back to 1993 when Stephen Lawrence was murdered, there was public outcry at the time about the wrongdoing. The media focused on the individuals and the institutions who were in the wrong to ensure that they were held to account. This led to a lengthy investigation and the publication of the Macpherson Report in 1999. It famously concluded that the Metropolitan Police investigation failed due to “institutional racism,” professional incompetence, and a lack of leadership.
I am curious who will be holding to account the individuals and institutions who are collectively responsible for Professor Arday’s death. I wonder who will drive this justice forward for him and for his family.
Racism, Scrutiny and the Invisible Weight
Racism has severe consequences.
It is not always a racial slur or an explicitly discriminatory act. It can operate through systems, cultures, expectations and patterns of behaviour. It can shape who is presumed competent, who is given the benefit of the doubt, who is scrutinised most intensely, whose mistakes are survivable and whose mistakes become defining.
Professor Arday’s death has prompted many Black academics, educators and leaders to speak publicly about the racialised nature of scrutiny and the invisible weight of occupying spaces in which people like them remain underrepresented.
That invisible weight matters:
- The weight of representation.
- The weight of being “the first”.
- The weight of knowing that your success may be treated as evidence of progress while your mistakes may be used as evidence against an entire agenda for equality.
- The weight of wondering whether you will be afforded the same grace as others.
- The weight of having to be resilient again and again and again.
Racism creates trauma. The cumulative experience of racism can affect mental health, physical health which in turn impacts individual levels of confidence, trust, safety, hope and belonging.
We cannot discuss what happened to Professor Arday without being willing to discuss that context.
In His Own Words
A few weeks ago, I signed the Good Law Project’s Solidarity Letter supporting Professor Arday.
On 5 August, as a signatory I received a personal update from him confirming that he had resigned from his position at the University of Cambridge.
He reflected on becoming the youngest Black professor in Cambridge’s history, something he said he could scarcely have imagined as a child growing up with autism and not speaking until he was 11.
More significantly, he described the personal impact of the scrutiny he was experiencing. He wrote of the “profound toll” the accusations, speculation and public commentary had taken on him and those he loved.
And then came the sentence that, reading it again now, feels particularly heart-breaking: “But there comes a point when the personal cost becomes too great.”
He spoke about wanting to be present for his family. He wanted peace… privacy… an ordinary life. He no longer wanted to live under a constant spotlight in which every aspect of his life was subjected to public examination and judgement.
I think we should sit with those words. Sit with that discomfort. Sit with the knowledge that his Black Excellence had led to such significant personal harm.
Institutional Racism
The Macpherson Report famously described institutional racism as the collective failure of an organisation to provide an appropriate and professional service because of someone’s colour, culture or ethnic origin, manifested through processes, attitudes and behaviours that disadvantage minority ethnic people.
Sivanandan, A. Director, Institute of Race Relations, described institutional racism as racism residing, overtly or covertly, within the policies, procedures, operations and cultures of institutions.
These definitions matter because they remind us, as The Commission for Racial Equality stated, that racism does not require an individual person to consciously decide to behave in a racist way.
We need to look at patterns, processes, cultures and consequences.
We need to ask the hard questions about who currently benefits from our systems:
- Who is harmed by them?
- Who is protected?
- Who is exposed?
- Who is believed?
- Who is given grace?
- And who is required to demonstrate exceptional resilience merely to remain in the room?
A lens I emphasise in our Belonging Effect DEIB training is that our focus should be on the impact instead of the intention of our words, behaviours and actions.
There is not an individual who is solely responsible for Professor Arday’s death, there are many people with his blood on their hands.
Representation Matters, but Representation Is Not Enough
Success does not insulate Black professionals from racism, hostility or harassment. In fact, sometimes increased visibility can make the scrutiny greater.
For people of colour occupying significant positions, there can be an invisible mental load attached to being highly visible and underrepresented: the fear of getting something wrong, of being judged more harshly, of being expected to represent more than yourself, or of discovering how precarious acceptance can become when something goes wrong.
That burden must be recognised because representation alone is not inclusion.
Representation without protection is not inclusion.
Visibility without psychological safety is not belonging.
And celebrating someone’s resilience while ignoring what requires them to be resilient in the first place is not progress.
Institutional Responsibility
Universities and the media need to take a long, hard look in the mirror.
It is not enough for institutions to recruit diverse talent, celebrate “firsts”, publish photographs, announce appointments and point to representation as evidence of progress.
Institutions have a responsibility to the human beings behind those achievements:
- What happens when they become vulnerable?
- Who protects them when scrutiny becomes overwhelming?
- Who notices when accountability becomes humiliation?
- Who intervenes when criticism becomes harassment?
- Who considers the cumulative impact of racism, ableism, classism and public scrutiny?
- Who safeguards the person while the process takes place?
We need to lead institutions where people do not have to become exceptionally resilient simply to survive them.
Professor Jason Arday’s death should not become another moment of collective grief followed by institutional silence.
I think it is important to remember that we can hold two things at once:
- We can believe in academic integrity and humanity.
- We can believe in accountability and proportionality.
- We can believe in scrutiny and dignity.
- We can ask legitimate questions about someone’s work without forgetting that there is a human being answering them.
And we can acknowledge that racism does not have to be the only factor operating in a situation for us to examine seriously how race shaped what happened.
My thoughts are with Professor Arday’s family, friends, colleagues and all those mourning him. I have discovered in the last 24 hrs how many of my network were connected to him and have been impacted by his death.
May he rest in peace. May we learn from this tragic loss.
Read, Reflect and Act
Read and engage with the reflections being shared across our network and wider community, including those from: Adam Vasco, Caroline Keep, Chantelle Haughton, Clive Lawrence, Domini Choudhury, Patrick Cozier, Shammi Rahman, The Black Curriculum.
Read Broken Ladders from The Runnymede Trust and consider what the evidence tells us about racism and the experiences of people of colour within UK academia.
Follow, listen to and engage with organisations campaigning for racial equity and racial justice, including: 100 Black Professors, 100 Black Headteachers, Aspiring Heads, BAMEed, DARPL, Everyday Racism, REND, The Black Curriculum and The Runnymede Trust. (Lots of these orgs are listed in our DEIB Directory).
Consider filing a complaint against the media outlets that printed endless stories about Professor Jason Arday.
Consider donating to the GoFundMe page set up by Professor Sir Patrick Vernon OBE FrHistS – ‘In Memory of Dr Jason Atta Kwei Arday: Supporting His Family’.
Most importantly, do not let this conversation disappear when the headlines do.
Racism has consequences. Institutional responsibility matters. Our shared humanity matters.
What Happens When We Listen to Children About Peace?
Written by Jim Dees
Jim Dees is the headteacher of West Lodge Primary School. He is the co-founder of YESFest.
On 18th May, more than 70 primary-aged Young Ambassadors for Peace gathered at the House of Lords for An Experiential Peace Dialogue: Living Peace in Action. Hosted by Baroness Verma and attended by members of the House of Lords, including Lord Raval, the event brought together educators, researchers, sustainability leaders, policymakers and community partners to explore an important question: What role can peace education play in helping young people thrive in today’s world? The event brought together educators, researchers, sustainability leaders, policymakers and community partners to explore an important question: What role can peace education play in helping young people thrive in today’s world?
The Young Ambassadors for Peace (YAP) programme, organised by the Brahma Kumaris World Spiritual University UK, brings together primary school pupils to explore peace within the self, peace with others and peace with nature through reflection, dialogue, leadership and action. What stood out most was not the programme itself, but the children. Speaking about peace within the self, peace with others and peace with nature, pupils aged between nine and eleven shared their experiences with remarkable wisdom, clarity and authenticity. They spoke about self-regulation, empathy, interfaith understanding, leadership, sustainability and belonging. They led meditations, answered questions from invited guests and demonstrated that children are capable of far more than we sometimes assume.
One child explained that the programme should focus on young people “to make a better generation.” Another reminded the audience that children are capable of making a positive difference in the world today, not simply in the future.
The event reinforced a growing belief that peace education is not an optional extra. It sits alongside wider conversations around wellbeing, belonging, citizenship, sustainability and pupil agency. At a time when schools are navigating increasing complexity, there is a growing need to create opportunities for children to develop not only knowledge and skills, but also self-awareness, compassion, responsibility and a sense of connection with others and the natural world.
Perhaps most importantly, the showcase highlighted a shift that is gaining momentum across education and beyond: seeing children not as empty vessels to be filled, but as active contributors with voice, agency, insight and wisdom. When we create the conditions for children to lead, reflect and contribute, they often bring perspectives that adults can easily overlook.
Looking ahead, we are keen to strengthen the evidence base for peace education, build partnerships across sectors and communities, and connect practice, research and policy. We would particularly welcome conversations with researchers, universities, schools, charities and organisations interested in collaboration, evaluation and further development of this work.
The next stage of that journey takes place at the Young Ambassadors for Peace Festivals in Oxford (10 June), London (12 June) and Leicester (17 June), where pupils will share their learning through experiential exhibitions, presentations and performances. These events provide an opportunity not only to celebrate the achievements of the children, but also to engage in a wider conversation about the role of peace education in supporting wellbeing, belonging, citizenship, sustainability and positive social change.
Places at all three events must be booked in advance. If you would like to attend, please register at https://yapglobal.org/peacefest2026/. We would particularly welcome educators, researchers, community leaders, policymakers and potential partners who are interested in exploring how peace education can help develop more compassionate, connected and sustainable communities.
Perhaps the most powerful message from the House of Lords came from the children themselves. In a world that often underestimates young people, they reminded us that they are not simply the leaders of tomorrow, but active contributors today — capable of helping to build more compassionate, connected and hopeful futures if we are willing to listen.
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.
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.
Mirrors and Windows: Rethinking the Curriculum for Inclusive Classrooms
Written by Amy Wilby
I am an experienced senior educational leader, currently serving as an Assistant Headteacher with responsibility for Curriculum, as well as a Trust-wide DEIB Champion, edublogger, and proud mum to a 21-year-old son. Since qualifying as a teacher in 2009, I have built a career rooted in both academic excellence and strong pastoral care. I bring extensive experience across middle and senior leadership, including roles as a Specialist Leader of Education (SLE) and Associate Assistant Headteacher. I hold an NPQSL and a master’s degree in educational leadership, and I am deeply committed to evidence-informed practice, drawing on educational research to enhance teaching, learning, and curriculum design.
Walk into most classrooms and you’ll see a curriculum that has been carefully planned, structured, and sequenced. In most schools, this planning is grounded in research, designed to support the acquisition and retention of knowledge.
But there’s a deeper question we don’t ask often enough:
Who gets to see themselves in it, and who doesn’t?
This is where the concept of mirrors and windows becomes essential to inclusive education.
The idea is simple, but powerful:
- Mirrors: Students see their own identities, experiences, and cultures reflected
- Windows: Students gain insight into lives and perspectives different from their own
A truly inclusive curriculum does both, consistently, not occasionally.
Because when students only experience windows, they may feel invisible.
And when they only experience mirrors, they miss the opportunity to understand others.
What do we mean by ‘mirrors and windows’?
If we want genuinely engaging and inclusive classrooms, we need both.
The problem: Representation is often surface, level
Many schools are already working to diversify their curriculum, but often in ways that don’t go far enough, or lack careful consideration of how content is framed.
You might see:
- A one-off lesson or assembly, such as during Black History Month
- Efforts to diversify reading materials in the library
- Occasional references to global perspectives, often framed as ‘meanwhile, elsewhere…’ and confined to specific subjects
These are well-intentioned, but they risk becoming add-ons rather than meaningful integration.
And students notice the difference.
Why this matters for belonging
Students can tell when inclusion is occasional, symbolic, or performative, and this can have the opposite effect to what is intended.
Instead of feeling seen, they can feel outside the main narrative.
Curriculum is not just about knowledge, it’s about belonging.
When students consistently see themselves reflected through the Mirrors of the curriculum:
- Their sense of legitimacy increases
- Engagement improves (with positive effects on attendance and behaviour)
- Confidence grows
- Equity becomes something that is lived, not just discussed
At the same time, windows help to build:
- Empathy
- Cultural understanding
- A broader view of the world
This isn’t an ‘extra’ it’s foundational.
What this looks like in practice
Creating an inclusive curriculum doesn’t require starting from scratch. It’s about intentional, thoughtful adjustments over time.
To begin you could consider the following:
- Audit what’s already there
Start by asking:
- Whose stories are centred?
- Whose voices are missing?
- Are certain groups only represented through struggle?
This process is often revealing.
Too often, diverse histories are framed primarily through oppression. A more balanced approach:
- Includes innovation, leadership, and cultural contributions
- Presents individuals as active agents, not just recipients of injustice
This doesn’t ignore difficult histories, it places them within a fuller, more accurate context.
- Move beyond ‘add and stir’
Inclusion isn’t about inserting isolated examples, it’s about integration.
For example:
- Literature: diversify authors across the year, not just within one unit, include local, national and international texts
- History: embed multiple perspectives within the same topic, rather than adding them at the end
- Science: highlight contributions from a wider range of scientists and challenge assumptions about who belongs in the field
- Avoid single stories
Be careful not to reduce groups to one narrative.
- Don’t present marginalised groups only through struggle
- Include stories of success, leadership, creativity, and everyday life
Students need multidimensional representations.
They should encounter people as fully human, complex, nuanced, and varied.
This leads to richer learning and a more honest curriculum.
- Make it subject, specific
Inclusion is not just a humanities issue, it is a whole, curriculum responsibility.
- Maths: use real, world problems that reflect diverse contexts
- English: select texts that provide both mirrors and windows
- Geography: avoid deficit narratives and explore cultural diversity with depth
- Science: challenge narrow perceptions of who can be a scientist.
Every subject has a role to play.
- Involve student voice
Ask students directly:
- Do you see yourself in what we learn?
- What would you like to see more of?
Their responses often highlight gaps that adults may overlook—and involving them builds both agency and belonging.
Common pitfalls to avoid
Even with strong intentions, there are common missteps:
- Tokenism: adding one example and considering the work done
- Over, correction: forcing representation in ways that feel inauthentic
- Stereotyping: simplifying identities rather than showing complexity
- Inconsistency: inclusion appearing in isolated moments rather than as a sustained approach
Inclusion works when it is planned, consistent, and authentic.
What you can do tomorrow
If you’re not sure where to start, begin small:
- Gather feedback from a class or year group (through a form or discussion) – The Global Equality collective has a fantastic platform for gathering student and staff voice and producing kaleidoscopic data to help to understand where any gaps exist.
- Review an upcoming scheme of work and ask: Where are the mirrors and windows?
- Identify one meaningful change that improves representation
You don’t need to do everything at once, but you do need to start intentionally.
Final thought
An inclusive curriculum isn’t about ticking boxes or meeting requirements.
It’s about answering a simple but powerful question:
‘Does every student feel seen here, and are they being helped to see others?’
When the answer becomes consistently ‘yes,’
you’re not just delivering content, you’re building belonging.
Further Reading
Bhorkar, S., Campbell, R. and Claro, J. (2025) ‘Beyond the tick-box: diversity in the curriculum’, Impact: Journal of the Chartered College of Teaching. Available at: https://my.chartered.college/impact_article/beyond-the-tick-box-diversity-in-the-curriculum/
Bishop, R. S. (1990) ‘Mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors’, Perspectives: Choosing and Using Books for the Classroom, 6(3). Available at: https://scenicregional.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Mirrors-Windows-and-Sliding-Glass-Doors.pdf
Geographical Association (n.d.) Cultural diversity in geography education. Available at: https://geography.org.uk/ite/initial-teacher-education/geography-support-for-trainees-and-ects/learning-to-teach-secondary-geography/geography-subject-teaching-and-curriculum/teaching-thematic-geography/cultural-diversity-in-geography-education/
Kara, B. (2020) A little guide for teachers: diversity in schools. London: Sage Publications Ltd.
The Global Equality Collective Global Equality Collective KnowHow. Available at: GEC KnowHow
Pearson (2023) Pearson School Report: Diversity and Inclusion. Available at: https://web.archive.org/web/20231204193347/https://www.pearson.com/en-gb/schools/insights-and-events/topics/diversity-inclusion/schools-report.html
Teach First (2020) STEMinism: How to encourage more girls to study STEM subjects. Available at: https://www.teachfirst.org.uk/sites/default/files/2020-02/teach_first_steminism_report.pdf
Does your belonging culture include every Generation?
Written by Alex Atherton
Alex Atherton is an award-winning speaker, trainer and consultant who focuses on Gen Z recruitment & retention and leading multigenerational workplaces. He is the author of The Snowflake Myth: Explaining Gen Z in the Workplace and Beyond. He is also a former secondary school headteacher.
Age ranges are growing across UK workplaces.
This is largely because the proportion of workers aged 65 and over has more than doubled in the last two decades.
A four generation workplace with an age range of fifty, if not sixty, years has become increasingly common. At the younger end Generation Z now account for over a quarter of the workforce, with that figure set to exceed a third globally by 2030.
At no point in modern history have so many different generational experiences been present in the same building, on the same Teams call, or trying to agree on what a productive working culture looks like.
Concept of generations
The concept of generations is useful in terms of analysing outlooks and attitudes over time. Fifteen to twenty years is long enough for there to have been enough economic, social, political and technological change for that exercise to be worthwhile.
But we are all the same species, and there is no guillotine between them. Whilst the concept is useful it is also limited, and generational stereotypes serve no one. Differences within generations are far bigger than those between, and I strongly recommend you treat everyone as individuals first with no generational label.
Analysing the impact of change over time can offer clues when understanding your workforce, and therefore what needs to be done to ensure everyone feels they belong.
I want to differentiate between ‘age’ and ‘generations’. The former is, of course, a protected characteristic. The latter is cohort-based. Opinions and outlooks may change for individuals over time, but there is something about those created in the formative years which stick with people in different ways and to various extents.
It would be an interesting tribunal case that sought to separate the two fully. My argument is organisations who consider the full range of their age diversity to be a considerable asset are in a better position to thrive, and considering generational perspective is part of that exercise.
This is the set of names and dates that I use. You may find others elsewhere, which is fine as it reinforces the idea that these are not hard and fast:
- Silent Generation (1925-1945: 81-100 years old)
- Baby Boomers (1946-1964: 62-80 years old)
- Generation X (1965-1980: 46-61 years old)
- Millennials (1981-1996: 30-45 years old)
- Generation Z (1997-2012: 14-29 years old)
- Generation Alpha (2013-2028: max 13 years old)
The snowflake problem
I came into this topic area as a reaction to the youngest generation currently in the workplace, Gen Z, being labelled as ‘snowflakes’.
In my book The Snowflake Myth, I argue that the stereotypes routinely applied to Gen Z (lazy, unreliable, apathetic etc) tell us more about a failure to understand them than about who they actually are.
Gen Z’s academic record is off the scale compared to all who came before them. They are more likely than any previous generation to work nights and weekends for higher pay. They are the most diverse generation we have ever seen, and the most vocal advocates for equity, diversity, inclusion and belonging in the workplace.
Calling them snowflakes is not a neutral observation. It is an exclusion.
But you know this, otherwise you would not be on this website. So what to do?
Belonging Is not age-selective
Let me tell you something else you already know. When belonging is present, engagement rises, wellbeing is protected and performance improves. When it is absent, the damage is real.
Does your belonging culture extend to the oldest and youngest people in your organisation?
Gen Z in the workplace will tell you, should you ask them, that they are watching. They notice whether the DEIB commitments on your website show up in how decisions are made and who gets a seat at which table. They notice whether authenticity is genuinely embedded in your culture, or whether the sign behind reception is performative. They notice whether any effort has been made to understand their experience, or whether they are simply expected to adapt.
The Boomers (and Silents too) will also give you their feedback as to whether they belong or now feel marginalised, but you may need to work a little harder to capture their voice. It is too tempting to consider that your belonging culture is in the right place because a clear majority say they belong. It needs to work at both ends of your age range.
What multi-generational belonging looks like
The good news is that this is less complicated than it sounds. It requires curiosity more than strategy.
It means seeking genuine feedback from colleagues, and on an ongoing basis rather than just at onboarding.
It means recognising that a generation which grew up collaborating online, co-creating content and working simultaneously on shared documents brings real and underutilised strengths to any team.
It means deliberately noticing what is happening at the edges, and across every group. That includes noticing that the older colleagues who had their eyes wide open as the new recruits refused to stay late or take work home started wanting the same themselves. What used to be ‘Gen Z demands’ has now extended elsewhere.
It means understanding that cross-generational collaboration is not a nice idea for an away day. It is about driving better decisions and developing ownership amongst your workforce that creates the belonging culture you need.
Most importantly, it means accepting that belonging is not something organisations can get away with extending only to the groups they find easiest to champion.
To what extent does your belonging culture cover the full breadth of your age range?