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.
What start of term rituals and routines can educators create in our classrooms to centre student belonging?
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
Belonging is what students feel. Mattering is what students believe about their value to others.
A student can feel accepted but still wonder whether anyone would notice if they were absent.
True inclusion is when students know:
- I am welcome here.
- I am known here.
- I am valued here.
- I contribute here.
- I make a difference here.
So as we plan to set up our new classrooms and meet our new students at the start of a new academic year, what should we be intentionally planning and consciously considering to ensure that we centre belonging and mattering at the heart of our learning environments?
Theme 1: Look from the outside in
The most powerful question educators can ask at the start of the academic year is not “What do I want my classroom to be?” but “What does it feel like to be a student walking into this classroom for the very first time?”
Belonging begins with perspective-taking. For some learners, the first day is exciting. For others, it is filled with uncertainty, anxiety or the question, “Will I fit in here?” Looking from the outside in encourages educators to notice the small moments that communicate whether students are welcome, valued and safe before a single lesson begins.
Theme 2: Safety creates the conditions for growth
Students bring with them the seeds of who they are – their strengths, hopes, identities and experiences. The role of the school is to cultivate those seeds.
This means creating an environment where students feel physically, psychologically and emotionally safe. It is about setting clear expectations alongside compassionate relationships. Like a safety net beneath a tightrope, boundaries do not restrict students; they give them the confidence to explore, take risks, make mistakes and discover who they are becoming.
When students know they will be supported if they stumble, they are far more willing to participate, lead, question and learn.
Theme 3: Belonging grows through contribution
Belonging is not something educators simply give to students. It develops when students have meaningful opportunities to shape their community.
Leadership roles, student voice, peer mentoring, classroom responsibilities and collaborative decision-making all communicate a powerful message:
“You are not just part of this school – you help make this school what it is.”
Feeling heard is just as important as being listened to.
Theme 4: Students need to see themselves
Creating belonging is also about what students encounter every day through the curriculum.
The books on the shelves, the scientists, authors and historians studied, the case studies, examples, photographs and research all send messages about who matters.
When diversity is woven naturally throughout learning – not reserved for awareness days or special events – it communicates that different ethnicities, religions, family structures, genders, abilities and lived experiences are an ordinary and valued part of society.
Representation tells students: “People like me belong here too.”
Theme 5: Know the learner behind the learner
Relationships remain the foundation of belonging.
Learn names and pronounce them correctly. Show genuine curiosity about students beyond their attainment or behaviour. Ask about their interests, aspirations, cultures and lived experiences – and keep asking.
Students quickly recognise the difference between being known and simply being managed.
When educators remain interested throughout the year, they communicate one of the strongest messages of mattering:
“I see you, and you matter to me.”
Theme 6: Build belonging together
One practical way to establish this culture from day one is to create a class agreement or class contract collaboratively.
Rather than presenting a list of rules, invite students to explore questions such as:
- How do we want everyone to feel in this classroom?
- What helps us learn best?
- What behaviours create belonging?
- How will we respond when mistakes happen?
- What responsibilities do we all share?
Co-creating expectations fosters ownership, accountability and mutual respect from the outset.
Final Thoughts
Perhaps the greatest gift educators can give at the beginning of the academic year is not a perfectly organised classroom or an engaging first lesson – it is the certainty that every student belongs and matters.
Belonging does not happen by chance. Mattering is not left to luck. They are cultivated through thousands of intentional moments: a smile at the classroom door, a correctly pronounced name, a curriculum that reflects the richness of our communities, an invitation to contribute, a conversation that says: “Tell me about you.”
Students flourish in environments where they feel safe enough to be themselves, valued enough to contribute, and supported enough to grow. Every interaction, every curriculum choice, every relationship and every opportunity for student voice helps create that culture.
The question is not simply: “Do our students belong?”
The more important question is: “What are we intentionally doing every day to ensure every student knows they belong – and that they matter?”
Recommended Reading:
If you would like to explore the evidence behind belonging and mattering in greater depth, these are two excellent places to start:
- Professor Kelly-Ann Allen’s articles on school belonging
- Gordon Neufeld: The First Week of School – Creating Connections and Emotional Safety
Language in the Classroom: The Signals We Send
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 any classroom and you’ll hear a constant flow of language, questions, instructions, feedback, encouragement. It’s so familiar that it can feel almost invisible.
But there’s a deeper question we don’t ask often enough:
What are our words actually signalling to students, and how are they being received?
Because language doesn’t just deliver learning.
It shapes expectations, communicates beliefs, and quietly influences who feels confident, capable, and included. It can also show our own bias, our own understanding of what is an is not acceptable.
If curriculum is what we teach, and literacy is how students access and participate, then language is how belonging is communicated, both directly and indirectly.
The hidden layer: micro-signals in everyday language
Most classroom language is not part of a formal plan. It lives in the small, repeated interactions:
- how we respond to a wrong answer (Nonverbal cues as well as verbal ones)
- who we call on, and how often
- the tone we use when giving instructions
- the way we frame challenge or difficulty
- the ways we build engagement and excitement in our classrooms
These are micro-signals, subtle, often unintentional cues that students pick up quickly.
Over time, they begin to answer questions like:
- Am I seen as capable here?
- Is it safe to take risks?
- Do my contributions matter?
Students don’t just listen to what we say.
They interpret what it means about them.
The Pygmalion versus the Golem effect!
Your expectations matter and the subtext of your language and choices will have an impact.
‘The belief the teachers had in the students’ potential had been unwittingly and nonverbally communicated. More important, these nonverbal messages were then digested by the students and transformed into reality.’ (Acher. S, 2010)
Tone: more powerful than we think
Two teachers can say similar words and send completely different messages.
Consider:
- ‘Not quite. Try again.’
- ‘Not quite yet, let’s think it through together.’
The difference is small, but the signal is significant.
Tone communicates:
- belief (or doubt) in a student’s ability
- patience (or frustration)
- partnership (or hierarchy in the classroom)
- Which classroom environment would you rather take risks in? Which classroom highlights the importance of metacognition and learning the steps? Which one is stressful and the focus on the outcome only?
When tone consistently signals respect and belief, students are more likely to stay engaged, even when learning feels difficult.
Expectations: what we imply, not just what we say
High expectations are often discussed in terms of outcomes. But in practice, they are communicated through language every day.
For example:
- ‘This is tricky, so I don’t expect everyone to get it’
vs - ‘This is challenging, and I’m going to support you to get there’
The first lowers the bar, even if unintentionally.
The second maintains high expectations while offering support.
Students are highly attuned to these cues. Over time, they internalise them:
- who is expected to succeed?
- who is expected to struggle?
- who gets stretched, and who doesn’t?
Ultimately this leads to,
- ‘Who believes in their ability to succeed, and who doesn’t’?
- ‘Who wants to be here, and who doesn’t?’
- ‘Who is going to mask their struggle with other behaviours and who is going to embrace it’?
Inclusive classrooms are not those where work is made easier, but where expectations are consistently high and clearly supported.
Framing: how we position learning
The way we frame tasks and responses shapes how students experience learning.
Deficit framing might sound like:
- ‘Some of you didn’t understand this’
- ‘This group struggled with…’
- ‘You are set… and therefore we are doing something different…’
Asset-based framing shifts the perspective:
- ‘Let’s build on what we’ve started here’
- ‘Here’s where we can go next’
- ‘Learning starts only once it gets tough. Thinking and working hard is good!’
This doesn’t ignore gaps, it reframes them as part of the learning process, rather than a fixed limitation.
Similarly, how we respond to mistakes matters:
- Are they signals of failure?
- Or are they positioned as a normal, valuable part of learning?
The language we choose answers this for students.
The risk: when language goes unchecked
Just as curriculum can become tokenistic, classroom language can become habitual, and habits are powerful.
Without reflection, we may unintentionally:
- call on the same students repeatedly
- soften expectations for some and not others
- use praise that is uneven or limiting. Focusing on the student rather than the choices (‘You’re so clever’ vs ‘That strategy worked well’)
- signal frustration more quickly with certain learners
None of this is usually deliberate.
But over time, these patterns can shape students’ sense of where they fit.
And again, students notice.
What this looks like in practice
The strength of focusing on classroom language is that it’s an immediate, actionable shift.
You don’t need to redesign the curriculum.
You need to become more intentional with what you’re already saying.
- Pause and notice patterns
- Who do you respond to most?
- Whose answers are extended, and whose are closed down?
- When does your tone shift?
- If a student doesn’t know the answer, how do you frame this as a learning opportunity rather than a failure?
- Make belief explicit
- ‘I know you will absolutely give your best to this’
- ‘I believe in you’ (supported with appropriate scaffolding)
These statements matter, especially for students who may not hear them elsewhere.
- Normalise struggle
- ‘This is challenging, but we’ll get there, learning starts once you get stuck’
- ‘This is the part where it gets tricky’
- ‘If you’re finding this hard, you’re in the right place’
This reduces anxiety and increases participation.
- Use inclusive questioning
- Give thinking time before taking answers
- Invite multiple approaches
- Build on responses rather than evaluating them immediately, if a learner gives a partial or incorrect answer, build on it, don’t dismiss it!
‘I can see why you might think that, that’s a really astute observation, however I was thinking more of this…can someone build on this?’
- Be consistent with expectations
- Avoid lowering the bar for some learners
- Instead, increase the scaffolding and support
Why this matters for belonging
Belonging is not built through single moments, it’s built through patterns.
And language is one of the most consistent patterns students experience.
Over time, it tells them:
- You are capable
- Your ideas matter
- You are part of this learning
or you can signal the opposite.
The power of language is that it operates in real time. Every lesson, every interaction, every response is an opportunity to reinforce inclusion.
What you can do tomorrow
If you’re looking for a simple starting point:
- Choose one class and consciously adjust how you respond to incorrect answers
- Add one phrase that signals belief (‘Let’s work through this together’)
- Track who you call on, and aim for greater balance
- Try to build in some tasks that don’t have a definite answer. I like to use 4 seemingly random pictures and ask, ‘Which one is the odd one out and why’? so that everyone has a chance to explain their thinking and get praised for their work! (There is no correct answer, only answers that are not thought of effectively, everyone has the same starting point) This builds confidence over time.
Small, intentional changes in language can have a disproportionate impact.
Final thought
If mirrors and windows help students to see,
and literacy helps them to participate,
then language is what tells them:
‘You belong here and you are valued!’
And often, it does so in ways we don’t even realise until we choose to notice.
Further reading
Achor, S. (2010) The happiness advantage: the seven principles of positive psychology that fuel success and performance at work. New York: Broadway Books.
Erikson Institute (2019) Inclusive language is a classroom superpower, Erikson Institute Blog, 2 October. Available at: https://www.erikson.edu/blog/inclusive-language-is-a-classroom-superpower/
Kratz, J. (2024) ‘6 research-backed inclusive language dos and don’ts’, Forbes, 4 February. Available at: https://www.forbes.com/sites/juliekratz/2024/02/04/6-research-backed-inclusive-language-dos-and-donts/
Roberts, N. (2021) ‘Why we need to ditch deficit labels in SEND language’, TES Magazine, 22 June. Available at: https://www.tes.com/magazine/analysis/general/why-we-need-ditch-deficit-labels-send-language
University College London (UCL) (2023) Using inclusive language in education. Available at: https://www.ucl.ac.uk/teaching-learning/publications/2023/jul/using-inclusive-language-education
Worth-it (2021) How to build positive relationships in school, Worth-it Blog, 17 May. Available at: https://www.worthit.org.uk/blog/positive-relationships-school
Understanding Why Mattering Matters for Black Teachers: A Qualitative Approach to Understanding Black Teacher Mattering
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.
In my study, I set out to understand how Black teachers in London experience mattering in their professional lives. Because there is limited UK-based research in this area, I chose a qualitative methodology. My focus was not on measuring experience, but on understanding meaning, interpretation, and lived reality.
I was drawn to qualitative research because it allows for depth and nuance when exploring complex social and psychological experiences (Hill et al., 1997).
It quickly became clear to me that Black teachers’ experiences are not uniform. They are shaped by intersecting factors such as race, gender, school context, and role. A quantitative approach would not capture this complexity, particularly in relation to more subtle or systemic experiences such as microaggressions or colourism (Holt, 1976).
Key Themes
From the analysis, three overarching themes emerged: Representation, Racism, and Reinforcement, supported by ten sub-themes. What stood out most strongly for me throughout the data was a persistent tension between visibility and value.
Many participants described being highly visible as Black teachers, yet not always feeling equally valued or recognised within their professional environments.
Representation
One of the strongest themes for me was representation. Participants often linked their sense of mattering to their visibility as Black teachers in schools and wider society. Many expressed pride in their role and recognised the importance of representation for Black students’ identity, confidence, and aspirations.
Several participants described themselves as role models. This was not framed as symbolic, but as deeply meaningful. They saw their presence as shaping what Black students believed was possible for them, and this gave their work a strong sense of purpose.
Authenticity also came through strongly. Participants described feeling most valued when they could bring their “whole self” to work — including aspects of culture, identity, and communication style. When they felt able to do this, their sense of belonging and mattering increased. When they felt they had to suppress parts of themselves, that sense often diminished.
Voice was another key element. I was particularly struck by how powerful it was when participants felt genuinely heard by leadership. For some, this was a turning point after long periods of feeling overlooked. Being listened to — and seeing that listening lead to action — was often described as affirming their professional worth.
Racism
Racism emerged as the most dominant and consistently experienced theme across all interviews. Participants described a wide spectrum of experiences, from subtle microaggressions to overt racism involving both colleagues and students.
A recurring issue was racialised stereotyping, particularly being labelled “aggressive” when expressing themselves assertively. Many participants described this as “tone policing”, where their professional communication was questioned or reframed in racialised terms. This had a clear impact on confidence and professional freedom.
Workload and expectation also featured strongly. Several participants felt they were expected to work harder than white colleagues to achieve the same recognition. Some linked this directly to inequities in pay, progression, and informal responsibility within schools.
Access to leadership was another key issue. Participants often felt that promotion pathways were less accessible to them, shaped by informal networks and organisational culture rather than transparent processes.
I was also struck by how often participants described being expected to take responsibility for managing behavioural issues involving Black students. This created tension between professional role expectations and racialised assumptions about identity and expertise.
Overall, racism was consistently described as undermining mattering by reducing fairness, recognition, and belonging.
Reinforcement
Alongside these challenges, participants also described powerful sources of reinforcement that strengthened their sense of mattering.
Recognition from colleagues and senior leaders was highly valued, especially when it was specific, sincere, and linked to professional contribution. In some cases, formal recognition such as pay progression was experienced as particularly meaningful, especially when explicitly connected to expertise and impact. However, what stood out most for me was the strength of student relationships.
Nearly every participant described deeply affirming experiences with pupils, including gratitude, affection, admiration, and long-term appreciation. These moments were often emotionally significant and acted as a powerful reminder of purpose.
Parents and carers also contributed to this sense of reinforcement, particularly when they actively expressed appreciation or sought out individual teachers because of their impact.
What I found particularly striking was how reinforcement and racism often coexisted. Participants could feel deeply valued in one context (for example, by students) while simultaneously feeling devalued in another (for example, by institutional structures). This created a complex and sometimes contradictory experience of mattering.
Overall, what emerged for me from this research is that mattering for Black teachers in London is not stable or uniform. It is something constantly shaped through the interaction of representation, racism, and reinforcement.
While representation and relationships can strongly enhance feelings of value and purpose, these are often disrupted by systemic and interpersonal racism that undermines fairness, recognition, and belonging.
Mattering, in this sense, is not simply about being present in schools. It is about whether Black teachers feel seen, heard, valued, and able to exist authentically within the profession they serve.
Mental Health or Mental Illness? Why Silence Speaks in Teaching
Written by Katja Pavlona
Katja Pavlovna is a teacher in alternative provision and has previously taught in specialist SEMH and prison settings. She runs the lived experience mental illness project Lives Not Labels and is co-author of the book Sorry My Mental Illness Isn't Sexy Enough For You.
There is often – rightly – a lot of talk in education about teacher wellbeing and mental health. Burnout, stress, anxiety and depression are sadly commonplace within our profession. However, something we hear far less about is teacher mental illness.
I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD, or to give it its newer name, Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder, or EUPD) in 2021. Whilst the diagnosis was both a blessing (I knew what was wrong with me) and a curse (it’s incurable, although it can go into remission and be managed), I knew deep down that there was something else going on that BPD couldn’t quite explain. That’s how I ended up with a second diagnosis in 2023 of Schizotypal Personality Disorder (STPD). Managing two different, yet serious, mental conditions is something of a challenge in itself, let alone with the added complication of working full time in a career known for the risks it poses to mental health. So, how on earth do I do it? Truth be told, it’s hard.
Whilst mental health might be a hot topic in education, mental illness certainly is not. Whilst colleagues might join in with me for a moan about how exhausted I am, I can’t imagine them having much to contribute were I to discuss my propensity towards magical thinking, odd interpretations of events, finding hidden meanings in everyday things and my visual, gustatory and olfactory illusions, which are all part of my STPD.
I am extremely fortunate to be able to manage my disorders independently, and am generally classed as low support needs- that is, I function in society as anyone ‘normal’ would, predominantly by masking my symptoms and mirroring those around me. Whilst this does have obvious advantages, it does come with some fairly significant drawbacks too.
As someone who has very high expectations of myself and prides myself on being resourceful, diligent and practically-minded, it’s fair to say that I’m seen as good- even great- at my job. How could that ever be a negative?
The problem is that because my illnesses are well managed, it’s very hard for people to conceptualise that I am actually unwell. I mask so much that my disorders are basically invisible, so it’s very easy to assume they’re not there at all. People assume I’m fine, so when things start to slip, I’m judged harshly for not being able to perform in the same way I could when I was ‘fine’.
A few years ago, I had to take some time off work. I’d been wrongly taken off all of my antipsychotic medication, which led to my psychotic-like STPD symptoms returning. Fairly obviously, I couldn’t teach in that time and was signed off. I was already stressed and anxious- work keeps me stable and grounded and I rarely take time off, so being stuck at home with no interaction or purpose was causing me to deteriorate, quickly. I was then accidentally copied into an email complaining about my absence, which only added to my feelings of guilt. I was having to plan cover lessons around psychotic episodes and hospital trips, but when I returned after two weeks when my medication was reinstated and I was cleared by Occupational Health to return, I was still subjected to snide comments about how much time I’d had off due to the culture of presenteeism. People knew I had a serious mental illness, but it was still hurtful to realise I was seen as a liability.
The thing about mental illness is that everyone claims to be fine with it, until you start showing symptoms. This is, I think, especially true for a personality disorder. I am covered under the Equality Act 2010 for both BPD and STPD, but these are often seen less as a disability and more as a conscious attempt to manipulate. I clearly recall once, whilst temping, being asked to leave the classroom after requesting time off for a psychiatric appointment. Management then interrogated the pupils as to whether they felt safe in the classroom with me. Luckily this incident was dealt with, but I’ll never forget how it made me feel to know they clearly thought I must be dangerous.
The practical side of managing a mental illness in teaching is also difficult. Attending appointments during the school day can be tricky. After I was diagnosed with an eating disorder which arose as a coping mechanism for my personality disorders, I was offered specific treatment (DBT therapy), but this was a two hour session every week for 20 weeks in a neighbouring city. At the time I was teaching in an SEMH school who were extremely understanding and rejigged my timetable to allow me to attend. I suspect many schools wouldn’t be able to be that generous.
Reasonable adjustments can be hard to navigate too. Because of my fears of contamination with food due to the STPD, one of my adjustments is to bring my own lunch to work rather than eat from the canteen. Whilst you wouldn’t think this was likely to be an issue, in one school I worked at, a senior member of staff continuously ‘reminded’ me that teachers had to eat the same food as the pupils as it set a bad example. They weren’t the kind of person I could confide in, so I ended up eating alone in my classroom.
The fact is, my mental illness is always in the back of my mind. I constantly fear another ‘episode’, although I know realistically as long as I’m looking after myself, it’s unlikely. But still I lie awake at night worrying. I am the main earner in my household. If I can’t work, we would stand to lose everything. That’s an enormous pressure to have on my shoulders. Over the course of my career, I have met several teachers with BPD in the schools I’ve worked at. As far as I am aware, I am the only one still in the profession. It’s tough.
It’s not all negative, though. My disorders have given me resilience, creativity and compassion towards others. Some of the more challenging aspects of my disorders- such as BPD impulsivity- I can channel in healthier ways through teaching. I am self-aware enough to pre-empt when symptoms may occur and manage them, and I draw on appropriate support as and when needed. Pattern recognition has been vital in helping me to be proactive in managing my disorders. I love my job, so I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to make sure I can remain in it.
It’s also been an unexpected asset in some of the settings I’ve worked in, most notably alternative provision, prison and PRUs. In recent years I’ve worked with pupils with personality disorder or conduct disorder diagnoses, and it has helped me to better understand their inner experience. I could never share my own diagnoses with them, though. The stigma around personality disorders is so intense that to do so could potentially jeopardise my career.
A few years ago I spoke to a national newspaper about my lived experience project, Lives Not Labels (www.livesnotlabels.com) and received some hateful messages from people who took issue with the fact the article mentioned my career. I was accused of being abusive, manipulative and too unstable to work with children, told I was probably only in education to make false allegations about parents to social services to have their children removed, and threatened that if they knew what school I worked at, they’d destroy my career as people like me are a danger to children, including my own. To see such attitudes on display so plainly was incredibly confronting.
In October of last year, my book Sorry My Mental Illness Isn’t Sexy Enough For You was published which detailed some of the challenges I’ve faced as a teacher with serious mental illness. Although I’ve become gradually more confident in speaking out about my experiences, for many working in education with mental illness, there is too much at stake for them to be able to do the same. It’s clear that strides forward have been made in the realms of teacher mental health, but for those of us with mental illness, resources and understanding are sorely lacking.
Here is the link to my book: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/aw/d/1805010670/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?ie=UTF8&dib_tag=se&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.eMN7CSJN8yAXZ5LF9EtaQQ.UXJCGah2s3DoEkFTDqRf2TfZOyzEcavIn2mhgstUTXI&qid=1781934392&sr=8-1
What Families of Neurodivergent Students Want Teachers to Know
Written by Tessa Dodson
Tessa Dodson is an education writer passionate about supporting teachers and fostering inclusive classroom environments. She specializes in covering classroom resources, educational trends, teacher wellness, and practical strategies to help educators succeed.
There is often a gap between what schools think neurodivergent students and their families need and what they actually need. Neurodivergence refers to differences in how the brain processes information and includes common conditions such as ADHD, dyslexia, autism spectrum disorder and dyspraxia. Neurodivergent children may have different day-to-day experiences at school depending on how their needs are met and understood.
While most schools may focus on formal plans and processes, parents and guardians tend to prioritise everyday understanding and clear communication. Here are some of the things that families want teachers to know and what they feel will most impact their neurodivergent child in school.
Seeing the Child Beyond the Label
Parents and carers want teachers to see neurodivergent children as individuals, rather than defining them by a diagnosis. Estimates suggest that one in seven students is neurodivergent, highlighting how common neurodivergent diagnoses are within the school population.
While diagnostic labels provide a good starting point to understand a child better, they can only describe certain traits. They don’t offer the full picture of a child’s school experience. For instance, two pupils with the same condition may have entirely different sensory profiles, communication styles and emotional needs. For this reason, educators need to remain curious and adapt their teaching methods based on ongoing observation rather than fixed assumptions.
Prioritising Acceptance
Families would want educators to go beyond awareness of a child’s condition and focus on accepting and supporting them as they are, including adjusting the environment to help them succeed. This approach often produces positive outcomes. For example, an autism centre that advocates this acceptance-based approach reports that 98% of parents observed an improvement in their child’s ability to start conversations with others.
Communicating Clearly
Families often emphasise regular, straightforward communication. Small, meaningful updates about daily experiences often matter more than formal review points. When communication is consistent across staff and settings, children are more likely to feel secure and understand expectations. Mixed messages, on the other hand, can create uncertainty and make school feel less predictable for neurodivergent learners.
Individualised education programs (IEPs) involve structured meetings that bring parents and educators together to formally map out a child’s individual support needs and learning goals. IEP meetings are a good example of how schools and families can work collaboratively to create more consistent and supportive learning environments for neurodivergent children.
Understanding Behaviour as Communication
Families understand that behaviour is often a form of communication rather than simple compliance or disruption. When a neurodivergent child becomes overwhelmed, withdrawn or reactive, there is usually an unmet need driving that response. What seems like erratic behaviour from a child with autism, for example, may reflect sensory overload or anxiety.
According to the Department for Education, 166,041 students in England are autistic, with over 70% attending mainstream schools. These figures highlight that many teachers are working with autistic pupils every day, often in classroom settings where they may encounter difficult behavioural responses linked to unmet sensory or emotional needs.
In these situations, approaches that explore the cause of behaviour, rather than focusing solely on managing the outward response, are often more effective and respectful of the child’s experience.
Providing Flexible and Responsive Support
Effective support is rarely one-size-fits-all. Adjustments that work well for one child may not suit another, even when their diagnosis is similar. What families value most is educators’ ability to adapt support in real time, depending on how the child is managing on a given day. Rather than relying on preplanned strategies, using responsive approaches for teaching neurodivergent students allows educators to recognise and meet children’s changing needs more effectively.
Creating Safe Environments for Learning
Guiding and teaching neurodivergent students successfully involves creating environments where children feel safe, understood, and supported in everyday classroom situations. Sensory needs, predictable routines and thoughtful transitions can all make a meaningful difference. For example, offering a neurodivergent child a quiet place to calm down when things get too noisy or overwhelming can help them ease back into learning.
The Right Kind of Support
What families of neurodivergent students consistently ask for is not more complexity, but greater clarity, responsiveness and understanding in school. When teachers combine professional expertise with attentiveness to lived experience, children are more likely to feel supported and able to access learning in meaningful ways.
Can We Teach That? RSE 2026 and LGBT+ Inclusive Education in Primary School
Written by Jack Lynch
Jack Lynch (they/them) is a writer, educator, and DEI specialist. As Co-Director and Workshops & Training Lead at Pop’n’Olly, they work with schools, educators, parents, and organisations across the UK to create more inclusive environments. Jack has delivered training to thousands of professionals and authored widely used resources that support good practice in diversity, equity, and inclusion in education.
“What can and can’t we teach about LGBTQ+ lives under this new RSE guidance?”
With the new Relationships and Sex Education (RSE) Guidance 2026 set to come into force in England from September, this has been one of the most common questions I’m asked when working with primary school leaders and educators, at the moment.
In our conversations with schools and educators, I am hearing two clear messages. Firstly, the language and messaging of the RSE guidance around LGBTQ+ inclusion is deeply concerning and that, alongside other consultations and revisions of legislation, it’s providing less clarity, more questions, and increased fear and division. Secondly, it’s making educators want to work even harder to ensure that every child feels like they belong.
With LGBTQ+ bullying significantly increasing and the mental wellbeing of LGBTQ+ young people at some of its lowest levels, I am working even harder to empower schools to continue to remain inclusive and show every child that they belong. After spending months scouring the legislation and working with our legal team at Pop’n’Olly to understand what the legislation does and does not say, I can say with absolute confidence that LGBTQ+ inclusive education is very possible under RSE 2026.
LGBTQ+ inclusive education at primary level is broader than simply teaching about LGBTQ+ identities. It’s about teaching children that families can look different but that all families are characterised by love and care. It’s about teaching children that we aren’t limited to speaking, behaving or dressing in certain ways because of our gender and, finally, teaching children that there are many different ways to be human. So let me break this down a little further.
Family and Relationship Diversity
This guidance calls specifically for schools to recognise that “families of many forms provide a nurturing environment for children, and can include single parent families, same-sex parents, families headed by grandparents, young carers, kinship carers, adoptive parents and foster parents/carers” and that “Teaching should illustrate a wide range of family structures in a positive way, and care should be taken to ensure that children are not stigmatised based on their home circumstances.”
This provides a clear message that teaching about family diversity should be truly representative of all families. This provides a brilliant legislative basis for this work, which is a cornerstone of inclusive education in the lower age groups of primary and is key to making sure that children from non-traditional family structures can see themselves represented. This positive representation at early ages has been shown to significantly increase the mental well-being of all children, providing them with the important messaging that, whatever their family looks like, they belong.
Tackling Stereotyping
The RSE guidance also targets stereotyping, and specifically gender stereotyping, stating that by the end of primary school pupils should know “how stereotypes can be unfair, negative, destructive or lead to bullying and how to challenge a stereotype” as well as saying that schools should “avoid language or activities which repeat or enforce gender stereotypes”.
This focus on challenging negative stereotypes already forms a key part of many schools’ inclusive curricula and is a key element of LGBTQ+ inclusive education, as we know that gender stereotypes often underpin homophobic, biphobic and transphobic bullying. When we teach about diversity, rather than binary gender stereotypes, rates of bullying based on protected characteristics are shown to decrease, which aligns perfectly with schools’ duties under the Equality Act 2010 and Public Sector Equality Duty to ‘eliminate discrimination, advance equality of opportunity and foster good relations between people who share a protected characteristic and those who do not.’
LGBTQ+ Identities
The RSE guidance section on lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender content is where the majority of the concerns we are hearing from schools lie. The section specifically states that “Pupils should also be taught the facts and the law about biological sex and gender reassignment” and that “schools should be mindful that beyond the facts and the law about biological sex and gender reassignment there is significant debate, and they should be careful not to endorse any particular view or teach it as fact”. Feedback we are hearing from schools, educators and, indeed, parents and families is that the wording here is ambiguous and lacks clarity as well as concerns about how trans and gender non-confirming pupils can be supported and included.
My intention in this article is not to tell schools how to interpret this wording, as that is not my place and every school will approach this differently based on their specific setting. However, what I can say is that at no point is this guidance saying that schools cannot teach that LGBT+ people exist. In fact, the guidance is clear that schools should teach pupils to “recognise that people with the protected characteristic of gender reassignment, as with the other protected characteristics, have protection from discrimination and should be treated with respect and dignity”.
Teaching about LGBTQ+ identities in primary can be done in a range of ways including (but not limited to) having books with positive LGBTQ+ representation, having diverse representation on display boards, not hiding someone’s LGBTQ+ identity when using role models (e.g. Alan Turing in a history lesson) as well as specific lessons that cover what LGBTQ+ means. Teaching about LGBTQ+ should always have a clear learning objective and align with the schools curriculum and values, showing clearly that LGBTQ+ topics are not an ‘add on’ or taught because of any personal agenda but have a clear educational purpose that is aligned with the guidance and legislation.
I want to be clear, the new RSE guidance and surrounding legislation does NOT mean we have to stop teaching about LGBTQ+ lives, it does NOT mean we have to stop supporting LGBTQ+ pupils. What is most important is that schools are clearer than ever before on how and why they are teaching about LGBTQ+ identities: how this aligns with their ethos, values, and educational objectives; how they are interpreting the guidance; and how LGBTQ+ education fits within their wider work on inclusion of other protected characteristics.
For more information on guidance and legislation that relates to LGBT+ education, Pop’n’Olly have recently released a ‘LGBT+ Equality Legislation: Guidance for Schools’ resource which outlines the legislation in England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. This resource also provides information on what the legislation says about common areas of concern such as religious/belief conflicts and parents’ right to withdraw. You can download this for free at www.popnolly.com/free-resources
Disclaimer: This information is not a substitute for legal advice and is solely intended to support good practice by offering general information on the legal principles relevant to LGBT+ education in schools. It is the responsibility of schools to know their own legal responsibilities and independent advice should be sought where necessary.
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.