Nurturing Student Growth
Written by Rachida Dahman
Rachida Dahman is an international educator, a language and literature teacher, and an educational innovator. She started her career in Germany as a teacher trainer advocating the importance of relationships above academics. She then moved to Luxembourg where she teaches German language and literature classes to middle and high school students. She is an award-winning poet, co-author of the best-selling book, ATLAS DER ENTSCHEIDER Entscheiden wie die Profis- Dynamik, Komplexität und Stress meistern.
As educators, we often encounter students who challenge the structures and expectations imposed upon them. These students, who may not fit neatly into standardized molds, compel us to reconsider how we approach learning and behavior. Much like many of our students, there are times when we, too, long to respond with greater patience, understanding, and freedom from ingrained patterns. The complexities, emotions, and individuality of each student are not hindrances but crucial elements of a deeper, more meaningful educational experience. It is essential for us, as educators, to defend and embrace these qualities, even in a world increasingly driven by simplification and conformity.
The Role of Schools
Our schools find themselves in a profound dilemma, and this is reflected daily in their operations. What they have lost in recent years is not only method but also mindset: the opportunity for true engagement, for respectful dialogue between teacher and learner, has in many places been replaced by a culture of acceleration. With the introduction of tablets, the human counterpart—the teacher—has been increasingly replaced by interfaces, overstimulation, and self-directed project work. Teachers recede into the background. Not because they are less important, but because the space for relational presence has eroded. And yet this is precisely what children need: a true counterpart. A voice that explains, resists, supports—and yes, sometimes confounds. A presence against which they can push and, in doing so, grow. Whether in the classroom or at home. Learning is not mere data processing. It is a dialogical process, one that requires friction, attention, and relationship. And yet, feelings continue to be perceived as disruptions rather than as language.
A Case in Point: Misophonia
Imagine this: a student, age 9, repeatedly leaves the classroom. The teacher, exasperated, records “disruptive behavior” in the class register. Classmates shake their heads. This student often weeps, quietly, in secret. The cause? The sound of chalk scraping the blackboard causes them physical pain. So does the click of pens. Months later, they are diagnosed with misophonia, a neurological condition in which the brain processes certain everyday noises as stressors, akin to danger signals. This is not a matter of upbringing, but biology. This student stands for countless children whose nervous systems function differently. Many are highly sensitive, open to stimuli, easily overwhelmed. The resulting tension often manifests physically or emotionally, not as defiance, but as a cry for help. Here lies the crux: what we so often interpret as problematic behavior is, in truth, a sign of overwhelm, not rebellion.
In our classrooms sit thousands of children like this student, for whom chalk squeaks are torment. And rather than support, they are given labels: troublemaker, dreamer, problematic child. Yet these children are not deviations, they are indicators of where the system fails.
I recall a moment that encapsulates this dilemma. During a school conference, a senior staff member said to me, “Emotions have no place here (in school).” That sentence not only reveals a deep-rooted fear of the living, but also the difficulty of defending humanity in institutional spaces. Such notions are not merely outdated; they actively obstruct progress. Not just the development of our children, but of the entire system. Because emotions are not obstacles to learning, they are the very foundation of any authentic educational relationship. Without them, we are left with administration, not education.
Supporting Sensory-Sensitive Students
- Shift from labeling to listening: If a student repeatedly leaves the room, the behavior is often marked as “disruptive.” Ask instead, What is this child experiencing internally?
- Identify triggers: Sounds like clicking pens or scraping chairs may be physically painful for misophonic students. Notice patterns and name them with the student, not over them.
- Create safety zones: Offer quiet corners or “calm stations,”not as punishment, but as places for self-regulation and agency.
- Use validating language: Say things like, “I can see this is hard for you. Let’s find a way together.” This reframes the classroom as a space of relationship, not control.
- Collaborate with caregivers and professionals: Sensory processing differences are not discipline problems. While diagnosis may help, daily support begins with you.
When these realities are ignored, schools become sites of deprivation and of subtle violence. But when they are recognized, classrooms become spaces of repair.
Classrooms as Emotional Architectures
School can serve, not only as a site of academic instruction, but as an emotional architecture, a structured space where feelings are not only expressed but entangled, displaced, and ultimately transformed through relational dynamics. Some examples are:
- Parent–teacher storytelling sessions where experiences of conflict or success are jointly narrated and reflected upon.
- Classroom-based emotional literacy routines that help children identify and navigate inner states through language, metaphor, or ritual.
- Collaborative care circles (a variation of restorative practices) that involve students, teachers, and caregivers in discussing emotional challenges without the pressure of “resolution,” but with a focus on recognition and resonance.
- These are low-threshold practices that offer space for reflection and allow children to develop a sense of emotional efficacy and belonging.
The Inner Work of Resistance
In our times, it is of paramount importance to teach children something that often goes unspoken, that the most dangerous path is the one of blind conformity—of falling for vast oversimplifications, whether of a person, a problem, or a system. Children sense when truth is being reduced to something convenient. They feel it deeply, what I would call emotional negative labor which is the quiet, consuming work of learning how to navigate, fit into, or subtly subvert the unspoken rules of a family system or institutional structure. They may not articulate it, but they intuit it—these inner negotiations, the silent effort to belong without betraying the self. Unlike emotional intelligence, which thrives in open, resonant settings, negative emotional labor arises in constricted systems where feelings must be concealed, redirected, or distorted to ensure belonging or avoid conflict. It is not defiance, it is adaptation under pressure. Examples from school contexts include:
- A student smiles and nods, but never speaks in class, afraid their real questions might be “too much.”
- A child forces themselves to endure loud group work although their nervous system feels overwhelmed, then withdraws for hours afterward.
- A teen, praised for being “easygoing,” has learned to suppress discomfort because previous complaints were labeled dramatic or disrespectful.
- A sensitive learner, after weeks of masking sensory distress (e.g., from noise, lights, or proximity), begins showing “unexplained” somatic symptoms like headaches or nausea.
- A student consistently performs well academically, yet feels depleted and detached, school is a stage, not a relationship.
Naming this invisible labor is the first step toward rehumanizing education. To support them, we must cultivate not obedience but discernment. We must help them understand that systems can be questioned, and that complexity is not a threat, but a form of truth.
What Children Truly Need
If we want students to engage with the world compassionately and consciously, we must create spaces where their inner lives are welcomed not in the distant future, but now. Students do not need rigid templates; they need genuine encounters. They need safety and understanding, especially within the school environment, which must be the protective space we offer in a world that is increasingly loud, fast, and uncertain. When that space feels unstable or unwelcoming, it is not the job of schools to control, but to understand. We must become places where inner life matters. Educators, as the key figures in the daily experience of students, play a central role in this transformation. Education does not begin with a set curriculum; it begins with how we listen, how we perceive students’ worlds, and how we respond to their behaviors. We must be attuned to their complexities and defend the space they need to grow authentically. What is needed is not further fine tuning of performance-based curricula, but a broader distribution of reasonable and vital behaviors that focus on equipping students with practical, adaptable behaviors that serve them in a rapidly changing world.
Reflecting on the real-world application of my gender justice research
Written by Angharad Morgan
Angharad is a Secondary Social Science teacher in Newcastle and Gender Action Programme Lead. She has also recently taken on a Research Assistant role at Liverpool University, working on the Men4Change impact project. Alongside this, Angharad is undertaking her PhD in Education and Social Justice at Lancaster University. Her research uses feminist and queer theory to look at the role of male facilitators in challenging models of masculinity. Angharad is President of the NEU Newcastle District and will be Assistant Branch Secretary from September. Any spare time is spent outdoors with her 8-year-old daughter, and her ability to read and walk simultaneously saves a lot of time.
In 2019, at the age of 29 I decided to retrain as a teacher. I’d become a single mother at 26 and that slightly unexpected turn of events changed my life trajectory forever. I’d always been interested in education and teaching, something which perhaps I didn’t realise initially; from volunteering with classes in school to joining the Aimhigher programme whilst at university.
In my short time as a teacher, I had seen an apparent lack of justice, so this inspired me to act. When I received my acceptance letter onto the PhD in Education and Social Justice in 2022, I wept with joy and didn’t realise how much there would be to learn. It was a long way from my MSc in forensic psychology 11 years prior. I had the opportunity to write on a range of topics and my perceptions were challenged and understanding tested by each passing paper. Now, in 2025, I am halfway through what I have affectionately named “The Big One”, a modest 45,000-word thesis which will soon qualify me to be a Dr that responds in an emergency (albeit a social justice one).
My passion has always been gender justice, and I believed that I would spend my time working with women and girls and their experiences of navigating the education system. However, I had also spent a lot of time reading and talking about notorious influences and began to reflect on the types of masculinity they promoted. I noticed several programmes that worked with men take centre stage in recent years. I therefore wanted to gain an insight into how the male facilitators working in gender justice go about their work.
- How do they navigate models of masculinity?
- What does masculinity mean to them?
- How do they perceive themselves in a traditionally female-led environment?
- What motivated them to want to do that work?
- How do they recognise intersectionality?
Over the past 9 months I have been exploring the answers to these questions with 12 male youth facilitators working in the North of England. I used semi-structured interviews and photo-elicitation (an arts-based method in which participants were asked to provide a photo of what they perceived to represent masculinity) to explore facilitators experiences in the gender justice space. I was incredibly lucky with the participants’ insight and honesty.
As a teacher, it is important that any research I do has practical applications in an educational space. It’s all very well having theories, but they need to be practical and accessible to educators. In my recent talk at the RWBA’s Empowering Youth Conference I was asked some fantastic questions, but there was one that I didn’t get a chance to respond to, around the real-world application of my research. As my work has evolved, I’m beginning to understand it’s possible impact and application in education in the following ways:
- The importance of collective action for gender justice to truly be a reality. All educators need to be equipped to respond to challenging topics and feel confident to embed this in their practice. This means that teacher training and universities need to step up and prioritise discussions of gender, sexuality, mental health and healthy relationships with students (and colleagues!).
- Relationships with young people based around their exploration, questioning and critical thinking are key to opening up conversations. Many educators would aspire to this, but there needs to be an environment and culture within education that allows this to happen. How can educators be given the capacity to create these learning spaces?
- Although my research has focused on the role of male facilitators, over 75% of staff in schools/nurseries are women. Therefore, we need to identify how we can continue to have these open conversations with young boys, whilst also recognising that many of these conversations will be facilitated by women. Many schools do not have the budget to bring in external facilitators and male teachers cannot be expected to be experts on these topics. Therefore, female educators need to be engaged in these discussions as well.
- The importance of identity, belonging and reflection. My participants vocalised how this work has made them reflect on their positionality. As educators, we must reflect on our own positionality in our educational space, considering what brought us there. We can also explore our influences and how this impacts how we respond to young people and colleagues around us. It can be easy in these discussions to ignore the differing identities and experiences of the people we teach and work with.
I’m looking forward to further analysing my interviews over the next year and I hope that my work will add further insight into how we can continue to grow the gender justice movement at a time when these discussions are being silenced.
My Experience as a Speaker at the Diverse Educators Conference in Scotland: A Step Towards Change
Written by Sadia Hussain-Şavuk
Sadia Hussain-Şavuk, originally a Biology teacher, is now a Diversity, Equality and Inclusion Lead working predominantly with schools within the independent sector providing teacher training, pupil workshops and consultancy in her main area of anti-racism. In addition to this she sits on a number of boards including the BSA/IELA Inclusion Advisory Board and is co-chair of the Curriculum Reforms workstream of the Anti-Racism in Education Programme.
In February, I had the incredible honour of speaking at the inaugural Diverse Educators Conference in Scotland. As the first event of its kind, the conference was a bold and inspiring step towards promoting inclusivity, representation, and meaningful change within education. The atmosphere was charged with energy, optimism, and a deep-seated belief in the power of education to shape a better future for all.
The Power of Positivity
One of the most striking things about the conference was the positivity and passion that the participants brought to the table. Educators from across Scotland, with diverse backgrounds and experiences, gathered together not only to share their ideas but to spark action. There was a sense of unity and purpose that made the event feel more like a movement than a typical conference. As I stood before such an engaged audience, it was incredibly reassuring to see how committed these educators were to making positive changes in their schools, classrooms, and communities. Whether it was promoting inclusivity in the curriculum, advocating for equitable opportunities, or fostering a more diverse learning environment, it was clear that the educators in the room were not just talking about change – they were living it. It’s moments like these that remind me why I became an educator in the first place: to make a difference. And seeing so many others who share that same drive was truly inspiring.
The Challenges We Still Face
Despite the immense positivity, there was an undercurrent of concern that stayed with me throughout the conference. While we celebrated the progress that has been made and the steps that are being taken to make education more inclusive, we cannot ignore the slow pace of change. It is difficult to not feel a sense of frustration when you consider how far we still have to go. Although there are pockets of progress, systemic barriers persist. In many schools, diverse perspectives are still sidelined or tokenised. Too often, young people with marginalised identities still face barriers to success, whether that be in terms of representation, access to resources, or the recognition of their unique challenges. As educators, we know that it’s not enough to simply raise awareness. The real work lies in creating long-term, sustainable change. But when progress is slow, it feels as though we are failing the very students we are meant to serve. The young people of today – those who will shape our tomorrow – are waiting for us to do better. And while I am hopeful for the future, it’s hard to ignore the gap between where we are now and where we need to be.
A Call to Action
The Diverse Educators Conference served as both a celebration of what’s been achieved and a reminder of the work that remains to be done. I left the event with a renewed sense of purpose, but also a deeper understanding of the urgent need for change. As educators, we must keep pushing the boundaries of what is possible. We must continue to challenge the status quo and demand that every child, regardless of their background, has access to a truly equitable education. We cannot afford to wait for change to happen on its own – we must be the ones to make it happen. The diversity, passion, and commitment I witnessed at the conference filled me with hope, but I also know that it will take all of us – working together, side by side – to ensure that the next generation of students can thrive in an educational system that fully supports their needs and potential. In the end, the Diverse Educators Conference wasn’t just a moment of celebration – it was a call to action. It was a reminder that our work is far from over, and that every step we take towards inclusivity and equity is a step closer to a brighter future for all. Let’s not rest until that future becomes a reality.
Championing Diversity Through Literature: Our Pioneering Journey with Lit in Colour
Written by Gemma Hathaway
EDI Trust Lead for Inspire Education Trust, Assistant Headteacher at Blue Coat School Coventry.
At Blue Coat School Coventry, our partnership with Penguin and Pearson through the Lit in Colour project has been transformational. It has reimagined how we engage with English literature, ensuring that the stories we teach truly reflect the diversity of the world our students live in.
As the EDI Trust Lead (Inspire Education Trust), I have been privileged to work alongside the English department in this pioneering project. It’s been about more than simply adding new books to the curriculum — it’s been about fostering a deeper, more authentic approach to inclusion. Through this project, we have embraced the belief that literature has the power to validate identities, open minds, and create communities rooted in understanding and empathy.
Choosing The Empress
As part of Lit in Colour, we made the bold decision to teach Tanika Gupta’s powerful book The Empress at GCSE. Set against the backdrop of British colonial history, the play explores the relationships between Queen Victoria, Abdul Karim, and Rani Das, a young ayah from India.
Choosing The Empress was a courageous move — it challenged traditional literary choices and brought forward voices that have too often been marginalised. As a school community, we knew this would be a bold step, but one that was absolutely necessary.
Shaped by Broader Conversations
Our journey has not happened in isolation. The work of organisations like Diverse Educators, Equaliteach, and the ASCL EDI sub-groups has played a huge part in supporting us to approach this work with authenticity and integrity. Through dialogue, training, and collaboration, we’ve deepened our understanding that genuine change requires courage, reflection, and a commitment to ongoing learning. We have proudly embraced the idea that it’s okay to feel uncomfortable at times — because that discomfort signals that something meaningful is shifting.
Recognition and Gratitude
It was an incredible honour when Pearson recognised Blue Coat School as a Bronze Winner in the ‘Making a Difference’ category of their national awards. This accolade celebrates schools that have gone above and beyond in driving positive change — and it felt like a powerful acknowledgement of the journey we have been on.
We are so grateful to Pearson, Penguin, and the Lit in Colour team for their partnership and encouragement. Their support has allowed us to be bold, to innovate, and to centre pupil voice in every aspect of decision making.
Looking Ahead
But this is only the beginning. We are excited about the ripple effect this work is already creating — not just within our own school, but across the wider education community.
We are currently working with Tanika Gupta to explore adapting The Empress for a live stage production, offering students an even richer, more immersive experience. It’s another way to bring these powerful stories to life, allowing young people to step into the characters’ shoes and truly understand their journeys.
In May, we will be attending a national celebration event in London, where schools from across the country will gather to continue raising the voices of authors who deserve a platform within our curriculums. We hope to encourage other Multi-Academy Trusts (MATs) and schools to review their English curriculums with bravery and vision — to be bold in asking: Whose stories are we telling? And whose voices are we still missing?
At Blue Coat, we believe that every student deserves to see themselves in the stories they study. Through projects like Lit in Colour, we are building a future where every voice matters — and where literature truly belongs to us all.
References:
Distorted Mirrors, Fogged Windows: A Call for Deeper Representation in Education
Written by Tamanna Abdul-Karim
Tamanna Abdul-Karim is Assistant Headteacher responsible for Literacy, Equality and Diversity in an inner city school in Birmingham. She has completed the NPQLL and Masters in Educational Leadership and Management /Level 7 Apprenticeship with the National College of Education. She is an English teacher at heart and her desire to create a sense of equality and justice motivates her. It is through education, she hopes to create impact and leave a meaningful legacy.
The concept of “mirrors, windows and sliding doors,” introduced by Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop, has become a foundational framework in conversations around diversity in children’s literature and multicultural education. In her metaphor, mirrors reflect readers’ own identities and lived experiences, windows offer insights into lives different from their own, and sliding doors allow readers to step into those other worlds, fostering deeper engagement and understanding.
This framework is not only relevant in literature — it has transformative potential across all aspects of school life. From curriculum design and cultural representation to enrichment opportunities and even staff recruitment, it offers a way to embed inclusion and equity into the very fabric of educational settings. When embraced authentically, it cultivates a culture where every student is seen, valued, and empowered.
However, if not approached thoughtfully, these mirrors and windows can distort reality. They can perpetuate stereotypes, invisibilise complexity, and contribute to feelings of alienation, shame, or disconnection — particularly for students from minoritised backgrounds.
A Personal Reflection: Distorted Mirrors, Fogged Windows
As a child of Bangladeshi heritage growing up in inner-city Birmingham in the 1990s, my school experience offered only two narratives about my country of origin: that it was poor and that it flooded. While these facts are not untrue, they painted a one-dimensional picture that deeply distorted both my self-image and my understanding of my heritage.
The mirror I was presented with reflected famine-stricken children, submerged villages, and chaotic streets. The window offered a view steeped in deficit — one that suggested my background was something to be downplayed, or even disowned. As a result, I internalised a sense of shame. I learned to code-switch early: Bengali at home, English at school. I adapted the way I spoke, behaved, even the way I ate — compartmentalising parts of my identity to belong.
What my schooling failed to reveal was a far richer, more complex history. I didn’t learn that before colonial rule, Bengal was one of the most prosperous regions in the world — a hub of culture, trade, and innovation. I wasn’t taught about the globally coveted Jamdani textiles, or that Dhaka was once one of the busiest ports on earth. There was no mention of how British colonial policies contributed to devastating famines, or how Bangladesh achieved independence through extraordinary resilience and sacrifice.
This erasure had consequences. It shaped how I saw myself — and how I believed others saw me. It taught me that some stories are celebrated, while others are sidelined.
Who Holds the Mirror? Who Builds the Frame?
This experience highlights a deeper issue: representation is not just about inclusion, but about how people, places, and histories are portrayed — and who gets to do the portraying.
We must ask: Who is holding up the mirror? Whose perspective shapes the window? What frames are we using to present narratives of identity, culture, and heritage?
It is not enough to simply provide visibility. We must examine the structures — the frames and lenses — through which these representations are filtered. If the frame itself is biased or incomplete, then the images it presents will be equally flawed.
A Call to Educators: From Representation to Reimagination
Educators carry immense responsibility. We are not only curators of knowledge — we are architects of perception. Every decision we make about curriculum, literature, resources, or enrichment shapes the mirrors and windows we offer to our students.
This work requires deep reflection. We must interrogate our own biases, challenge inherited narratives, and resist the temptation to present simplified or tokenistic views of cultures and communities. We need to move beyond surface-level inclusion to truly equitable representation.
This begins with unlearning — with a willingness to revisit what we’ve been taught, and to seek out the histories, voices, and perspectives that have long been marginalised.
Because when children see themselves reflected fully — in all their richness and complexity — they stand taller. And when they’re given a window into the full humanity of others, they grow kinder, more curious, and more connected.
Let us hold up better mirrors. Let us open clearer windows. Let us build sliding doors that do not just invite exploration, but also affirm belonging.
Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Belonging in Leadership: Shaping the Future of the Teaching Workforce
Written by Susi Waters
Susi Waters, Operations Manager at Norfolk Research School; the Research Schools Network (RSN) Regional EDI Link (East of England and East Midlands); and Operations Manager and ITT Strategic Lead at the Julian Teaching School Hub.
In today’s educational landscape, fostering diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging (DEIB) feels essential for creating a supportive and effective teaching workforce that reflects the lived experiences of the students we serve. This blog post offers some thoughts on the importance of DEIB in educational leadership and highlights the challenges and opportunities for improvement.
Understanding Intersectionality and Privilege in Leadership
One of the key considerations in promoting DEIB in education is recognising intersectionality — the overlapping and interconnected nature of social categorisations such as race and ethnicity, gender, disability, and socioeconomic status. Leadership roles in education have historically been dominated by white cisgender individuals without disabilities, but there’s a growing call for more inclusive representation.
Many of us are familiar with the concept of “checking our privilege,” which can sometimes trigger defensiveness. It’s helpful to remember that, in this context, “privilege” refers to an absence of disadvantage. Having “white privilege” doesn’t equate to guaranteed success; it means that one’s skin colour hasn’t posed societal barriers.
Chris Hildrew, a headteacher in Somerset, articulates this experience well:
“I am usually in the majority. I joke about how I have the privilege full house: White. Male. English. Straight. Cisgender. Middle class. […] When I speak, people listen. They always have. I expect them to.“
Data from Edurio(2021) and NFER (2024) reveal that the representation of non-white educators, disabled individuals, and LGBTQIA+ educators remains low in leadership positions. Addressing these disparities calls for thoughtful recruitment, retention, and career development strategies.
The Role of ITT Recruitment in Teacher Diversity
Recruiting a diverse teaching workforce starts with how we market initial teacher training (ITT) programmes. While people of colour are overrepresented among applicants for ITT, they are significantly underrepresented in the teaching workforce overall. In fact, 60% of schools in England had an all-white teaching staff in 2021 – 22, with 86% having an all-white senior leadership team.
Research by Dr. Gabriella Beckles-Raymond (2020) underlines the importance of targeted recruitment strategies aimed at attracting African, Caribbean, and Asian teachers. Schools and training providers might benefit from adopting inclusive messaging and outreach initiatives to encourage individuals from underrepresented backgrounds to explore teaching careers.
Recruitment should be thoughtful. For instance, we could consider:
- Do providers offer pre-application support, like explaining the English school system to those who didn’t grow up here?
- Are interview processes truly inclusive? Do they provide interview questions in advance or offer online options?
- Is the interview panel diverse in terms of race, gender, and age?
Making sure that trainee teachers have the right support means addressing barriers that can impede career progression. Access to mentorship, leadership training, and workplace policies that foster inclusion are all important aspects to think about.
Making Teaching a Sustainable Career for All
For many educators, especially those from marginalised groups, remaining in the profession long-term can be tough. Research from BERA (2019) on LGBTQIA+ teachers and the “Missing Mothers” project (2024) highlights how workplace culture, lack of support, and discrimination can push talented educators away from the profession.
To encourage sustainability in teaching careers, schools should implement policies that accommodate diverse needs, such as:
- Support for teachers going through menopause.
- Flexible work arrangements for primary caregivers.
Anti-discrimination policies that protect neurodivergent and LGBTQIA+ individuals.
Leadership: Breaking Barriers and Creating Opportunities
Leadership in education needs to evolve to better reflect the communities it serves. Disparities persist; for instance, men are twice as likely to take on leadership positions as women, even though women comprise the majority of the teaching workforce. Gaps remain in representation among racial and ethnic minorities, disabled individuals, and LGBTQIA+ professionals.
Educational leaders can play a significant role in advocating for equity by:
- Sponsoring and mentoring diverse talent.
- Implementing transparent hiring and promotion practices.
- Encouraging conversations about privilege and systemic barriers.
- Revisiting senior leadership recruitment processes to ensure job descriptions and interview processes don’t unintentionally place women, disabled individuals, or caregivers at a disadvantage.
Moving Forward
We should ask ourselves: are we really setting up all teachers to enjoy a sustainable and fulfilling career?
Rethinking our approach to leadership is key — not just at senior levels but also in shaping the next generation of educators. There are alternative pathways to leadership in education beyond headteacher roles, such as Teaching School Hubs, Research Schools, and ITT leadership. These roles often offer flexibility, hybrid options, and meaningful opportunities to affect educational policy.
Ultimately, if we don’t act, the next generation of teachers will mirror those who currently remain in the system. Without deliberate attention and change, we risk perpetuating a cycle where leadership remains uniform. However, by embracing diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging, we have the potential to create a teaching workforce where all educators feel valued and every child sees themselves reflected in their role models.
To cultivate a more inclusive educational system, leaders should commit to ongoing education and implementing best practices. By embracing these principles, we can nurture a teaching workforce where diversity is celebrated, equity is upheld, inclusion is practised, and belonging is experienced by all. The future of education rests on leaders willing to challenge the status quo and promote DEIB at every level.
This blog is a summary of a session that Susi delivered as part of Derby Research School’s Change Champions conference in autumn 2024; it forms part of the RSN and Norfolk Research School’s ongoing work around EDI and developing diverse voices.
All sources and recommended reading can be found here and you can watch the full session here.
Decolonising the curriculum
Written by Shashi Knott
Shashi Knott is an English teacher and former Deputy Head of Sixth Form, with 16 years of experience teaching in state secondary schools across North London. After earning her MSc in Education, Power, and Change, she transitioned from her role as a full-time English teacher to focus on driving change within education. She is interested in working with other professionals to see how we can create more compassionate environments in schools. She is currently an outreach English teacher and Associate Trainer with KCA Training.
Decolonising the curriculum is like finding new love—it’s hard work, often requiring us to let go of what we’ve cherished. It’s a struggle, and one that calls for understanding and acknowledgment of the emotions involved.
The department meeting went silent. A chair scraped awkwardly as we shifted at tables. It was nearly 4.30pm. Everyone had marking to do. Was this about to get tricky?
In London, where I work as an English teacher, 46.2% of residents identify as non-white. It’s not a difficult context to make an argument that the texts we teach our students should be more representative. And yet, somehow, we don’t seem to make it happen.
We could absolutely have spent some of our fast- vanishing department budget on a new set of texts for Year 9. Amazingly, we all agreed that Elizabeth Acevedo’s ‘The Poet X’ would be an excellent choice for the spring term. However, when one of us asked, “What about George Orwell?” I know they were not the only ones thinking this. The silence in the room might have suggested otherwise, and we all knew what we should say next. So when our Head of Department was conciliatory, coming up with the comfort of delay, we were all secretly relieved. “We’ll revisit the discussion at the end of the term.” “ We’ll review again in our gained time.” “We’ll assess our existing schemes of work for diversity. ”
We know what we should be advocating for, but there are so many reasons why teaching ‘Animal Farm’ feels more comfortable, and it’s not just because we already have established schemes of work.
As English teachers and often English graduates, we have all internalised an idea of what constitutes the canon. Literary critic Harold Bloom describes canonical texts as works of ‘aesthetic beauty’ (1994) and therefore, he suggests, to question these texts is to question the merit of art itself. Bloom describes the ‘idealistic resenters’ who ‘denounce competition’ and want to focus on marginalised voices, as missing the point of art and culture. (1994) Whilst Bloom’s ideas have been convincingly challenged and are now certainly out of fashion, they are ideas that we cannot fail to have internalised. Many of us grew up with these views being the dominant narrative in the study of English Literature and speaking for myself, I did much work to embrace the canon. I certainly did not want to be seen as someone who missed the point of art.
We have to acknowledge that decolonising our minds is uncomfortable. It involves acknowledging that some of the texts we loved, we might need to let go. A bit like the way a song from our youth, however rubbish, will always evoke strong feelings, those first occasions of literary love will do the same. The first time you felt seen, grown up, clever, understood. That first moment of connection with the canon. Mine was Keats, the perfect poet for the
misunderstood teen. Decolonising the curriculum involves a deconstruction of the canon, of beloved texts, and that can mean a painful epistemic discomfort. We picked apart those texts. We invested meaning in them. We succeeded at them. That’s why we’re English teachers.
Decolonising the English curriculum is as much about interrogating our own relationship with literature as it is about buying new books or creating schemes of work. It is about being willing to forge new relationships with texts and giving our students those special moments of connection, potentially with texts that are not our one true love. It’s not just about representation for global majority students, it’s about a more inclusive literary canon for everyone.
Maybe as English teachers we need to go forth and find new literary loves. New characters to fall for. New writers to make students feel understood, and to voice, in new ways, all the age old feelings. Not a new canon. Just new names to add in. New, gritty, glittering, literary loves for students of English to come.
References
Bloom, H. (2014) The western canon: The books and school of the ages. New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
Why Every Child Deserves to Hear Their Own Song
Written by Matthew Dix
Matthew Dix is a primary school teacher of 17 years. He continues to work as a teacher whilst working as a primary reading consultant across Nottinghamshire. He is the Founder of resource website Manic Street Teachers and has recently launched 'Musician of the Month' to create a culture of musical appreciation and understanding across schools, with a focus on diversity and inclusion.
Growing up, music wasn’t just background noise – it was how I made sense of the world. It was my mum playing the piano, it was watching her dance to ABBA and playing, of all things, a mandolin! It was my dad blasting heavy metal one minute and Vivaldi the next. Nothing quite says ‘peaceful Sunday morning’ like Iron Maiden shaking the windows!
As I reached adolescence, my heroes ranged from Tupac Shakur to Freddie Mercury, from John Lennon to Annie Lennox. Following their lives taught me that struggles were universal and at the end of a struggle, there can still be success. Behind every composition, every lyric, every guitar solo was a person with a story – often one of resilience against all odds.
Music took centre stage when I formed an indie band in the early 2000s. It wrote songs, often with the children’s help, for primary school subjects when I began my career as a teacher. It was a focus of mine when I created the music resources for ‘Manic Street Teachers’. Music has always been in the foreground of whatever I do.
A decade ago, I took a job in an inner-city school in Nottingham with 98% of children having English as an additional language. In fact, there were 52 different languages spoken in total. And yet, the music curriculum offered very few mirrors of themselves or windows to other worlds. A colleague and I decided to introduce a new musician every month in the hope of engaging children who seemed vacant during singing assemblies, and often unable to discuss and share their likes and dislikes in music lessons.
It wasn’t until we chose Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan as a musician one month that parents started to leave emails, children started to talk and a buzz started to make its way through school. I remember a child telling me that their parents listened to him at home. We shared his life, his trials and tribulations, his achievements and videos of his performances. Children could explain his words and what they meant. They were fascinated to learn that he had come to England in 1985 and brought Qawwali music (a form of Sufi Islamic devotional singing originating in India) with him. Children finally saw themselves and their families in our curriculum.
👉 Free Sample (Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan) – sign in required
It got us thinking. What if a girl thought that she could never be a classical musician because she looked nothing like Mozart, Beethoven or Bach? Well, we created resources all about Florence Price, whose compositions were forgotten until, just 16 years ago, when a whole collection of her work was rediscovered in a dilapidated house on the outskirts of St. Anne, Illinois.
What about a child who believes music is impossible with a disability? We shared Stevie Wonder’s story, Jacqueline du Pré’s story, and we shared how Joni Mitchell had to detune her guitar to learn to play another way after polio affected her hand. Let’s show them how these artists found ways to keep playing, no matter what. The show must go on, as Freddie Mercury said!
We live in a global world – our music curriculum should reflect that. Instead of saying, “Let’s learn African drumming,” let’s say, “Let’s learn about Babatunde Olatunji, a Nigerian drummer who learned by immersing himself in the culture and following the master drummers in his village, eventually being given a cowbell and then various Yoruba drums, took his craft to America, became an important friend to Martin Luther King Jr., and became a world-wide sensation!”
If a child thinks you can’t play music when you’re old, then share the story of The Buena Vista Social Club – how Ry Cooder, a producer from the US, had a twist of fate when musicians from Mali had their visas delayed so he ended up in Cuba, reuniting forgotten musicians like Ibrahim Ferrer, who was still shining shoes to make ends meet. The musicians, most of whom were over 70 years old, finally had a chance to tour the world with their music.
👉 Read our EYFS eBook (Ibrahim’s Song)
Context is always king, and every child loves a story. I believe the person behind the music is as important as the music itself, and becomes the bridge to another world. Teaching children to empathise helps them feel less detached from the music they are studying. Music bridges cultures, generations, and experiences in ways that words alone sometimes cannot.
That’s why I created Musician of the Month – a simple, accessible way for teachers to bring diverse musical stories into their classrooms. It’s directly linked to The Model Music Curriculum and the 9 Protected Characteristics and, as the site develops, we hope it will help schools show every child that they too can be a musician. To a child in school, the right musician, with the right song, at the right moment could well hit the right notes!
👉 Musician of the Month + Free Sample (David Bowie)
Using drama to drive empathy in schools
Written by Rachel Crowther
Rachel is a trained actor, coach and founder of Squash. She started working in L&D over 10 years ago and experimented with using drama to bring training to life. She created Squash to address some of the harmful workplace behaviours that were accepted as the status-quo and to offer an engaging antidote to traditional, tick-box DEI training. She’s designed and delivered impactful training experiences for global organisations, charities and young people.
Empathy is an important skill for young people (and adults) to develop. It helps them build relationships, resolve disagreements and create more inclusive environments – in the classroom and in the office. A powerful way to encourage empathy, is through drama..
I run corporate workshops for adults, using actors to spotlight behaviours and perspectives and to start meaningful conversations. Something our workshops enable, is for participants to step into someone else’s shoes.
A phrase we often hear in discussions is “We don’t know what we don’t know.” There is so much we don’t know about those around us, classmates and colleagues, the challenges and barriers they face. We often make assumptions and generalisations, to fill in the blanks, but this is where unconscious bias creeps in. Instead, learning the importance of curiosity and perspective-taking from a young age, prevents us making assumptions and helps us to create genuine, connections.
Storytelling and role-playing are simple ways for students to experience situations from multiple perspectives and are effective tools to start objective conversations on important topics like friendships, bullying, cultural differences. It builds an awareness of the unseen challenges faced by those around them, strengthening the muscle for empathy.
It’s a way for young people to experience feelings in a safe environment. For instance, acting out a scenario in which they are excluded from a playground activity. Feeling this kind of experience, in a safe, facilitated environment, is going to be far more impactful than just being told about it.
Empathy isn’t just about understanding someone else’s feelings – it’s also about how we respond. Drama helps young people to ‘rehearse’ difficult social situations. Practicing the ability to actively listen, express themselves clearly and respond with sensitivity. Improvisation is a great way to develop communications skills and the ability to think on their feet.
The benefits of developing empathy at a young age are clear. It helps young people to stand up for others and create inclusive, and welcoming school cultures and communities. Using drama is a way to not only understand empathy but to feel it and it’s that emotional connection that they’ll remember throughout their education and beyond.
True Inclusion Starts with Seeing Students for Who They Are
Written by Purvi Gandhi
Purvi Gandhi, MA MBA FCCT CPsychol is a psychologist, educator, and advocate for student wellbeing, leadership, and equity in education. With a career spanning clinical psychology, secondary and post-secondary education, and educational leadership, she bridges mental health and education through evidence-informed practice. She is the author of A Little Guide for Teachers: Student Mental Health, a practical resource for educators.
Imagine stepping into a new environment where your name is mispronounced or shortened to something more “convenient.” It’s a minor inconvenience, perhaps, but one that over time chips away at your sense of belonging. Now imagine this happening every day, in a place where you are supposed to grow, learn, and thrive.
For many students, particularly those from ethnic minority backgrounds, this is not hypothetical—it is their daily reality. And yet, within the walls of our classrooms, the power of a name is often underestimated. Names are not just labels; they carry history, identity, and cultural heritage. To overlook them is to overlook the student. To get them right is to affirm who they are.
Beyond Good Intentions: Why Inclusion Must Be Active
In a recent workshop with early career teachers, we explored what it really means to create inclusive classrooms—beyond policies, beyond slogans, and into the lived experiences of students. The session began with a simple but revealing exercise: storytelling.
One African tale set the tone. A great flood sweeps through the land, and every animal finds a way to escape—even the mighty crocodile. High up in the trees, the monkeys spot a fish struggling in the floodwaters. Moved by compassion, they “rescue” it, placing it safely on a branch. Of course, the fish begins to suffocate.
The lesson is clear: good intentions do not equate to good outcomes. In education, a one-size-fits-all approach can be just as ineffective as the monkeys’ well-meaning mistake. Every student has unique needs, shaped by culture, background, and identity. The question is, are we paying attention?
Consider this: A teacher, in an off-the-cuff remark during a classroom discussion on relationships, casually states that arranged marriages are “backward” or “unfair.” It’s not intended to harm, just a spontaneous reaction based on personal beliefs. But what if a student from a culture where arranged marriages are the norm is sitting there, quietly absorbing that statement?
Perhaps this student has spent years trying to navigate the space between two worlds—balancing the values of their family with the expectations of the society they are growing up in. Now, in a single moment, they are made to feel that their culture is lesser. They may go home carrying this conflict, questioning their parents, their upbringing, and where they truly belong. Suddenly, they feel like an outsider in both places—neither fully at home at school nor at home with their family.
This is the impact of uninformed assumptions. Educators do not just teach subjects; they shape perspectives. A thoughtless comment can widen the gap between a young person and their identity, making them feel alienated rather than empowered.
To be truly inclusive, we must move beyond our own perceptions and seek to understand the lived experiences of others. We must create spaces where students don’t feel forced to choose between their heritage and their education, but rather see their identities reflected and respected within the school environment.
Because, just like the fish in the flood, what a student truly needs may not be what we assume is best for them. Listening, learning, and adapting is the key to meaningful inclusion.
Rethinking What It Means to ‘See’ Our Students
An alternative version of the tale drove the point home. In this retelling, the animals hold a competition to see who can see the farthest. The eagle soars and surveys the horizon, the giraffe gazes across the savanna, and the monkey takes in the view from the treetops. When it’s the fish’s turn, it can only see the immediate waters around it. The other animals laugh—until the fish explains that while they focus on the distance, it detects subtle currents, hidden dangers, and movements they cannot perceive.
Here lies a second lesson: students should not be judged against a singular definition of success. The education system, often fixated on rigid measures of ability, risks missing the unique strengths that lie beneath the surface. A student who struggles with traditional assessments may have an extraordinary ability to lead, innovate, or empathize—if only we are willing to recognize it.
The Power of a Name
Of all the discussions that day, one stood out: the impact of names. Inspired by Bennie Kara’s work on diversity in education, we asked teachers to explore their own names—their meanings, origins, and the personal stories behind them. What followed was a conversation about identity, belonging, and the small but significant ways that schools can either affirm or erode a student’s sense of self.
One student shared how her intended name was “Yah Yah,” meaning “gift from God,” but her parents, wanting to make life easier in an English-speaking country, renamed her Ysabella. She was seated alongside another student, Anjali, whose name means “gift to God.” Here were two students, from different cultures, bound by the same idea: they were gifts.
Imagine the impact of recognising that connection—not as a coincidence, but as an intentional act of inclusion. When we take the time to pronounce a name correctly, to understand its meaning, or even to ask about it, we are sending a powerful message: You belong here.
Moving From Awareness to Action
It is easy to talk about inclusion in broad terms. It is harder—but far more necessary—to embed it into daily teaching practice. The workshop concluded with three core reflections for teachers:
- Cultural Competence: How much do I really know about my students’ backgrounds? Where are the gaps? What steps can I take to learn more?
- Equity Over Equality: Do I recognize the unique needs of my students? How can I tailor my support to meet them where they are?
- Celebrating Identity: What cultural capital do my students bring into the classroom? How can I acknowledge and honour it?
Education is not just about imparting knowledge; it is about shaping identities. A student who feels unseen will struggle to engage. A student who feels valued will thrive.
The work of inclusion is not grandiose. It does not require a total overhaul of curriculum or sweeping policy changes. It starts with the smallest of acts: a correctly pronounced name, a thoughtful seating plan, a recognition that success looks different for everyone.
And perhaps, that is the greatest takeaway of all—belonging is built in the details.
References:
Fernando-Smith,L and Aow, A, (2024), ‘Letting go of imposter syndrome: writing herstory.’ In Disruptive Women – A Guide for Equitable Action in Education, Corwin
Kara, B., 2020. A little guide for teachers: Diversity in schools, Corwin
Pierson, R., 2013. Every kid needs a champion. TED Talks Education.