One Size Fits None

"It is nothing short of a miracle that modern methods of instruction have not yet entirely strangled the holy curiosity of inquiry."

Albert Einstein, The New York Times 1949

Really? 1949?!?!

Can We Stop Pretending Inclusion, In Its Current Form, Is Working?

I'm not an academic or education expert. I'm a parent who's been navigating the school system for over a decade with three very different, neurodivergent kids.

After years of trying to make school work, I still lie awake at 2am with the same questions circling my head.

We've worked with teachers, school leaders, occupational therapists, speech pathologists, paediatricians, psychiatrists, and psychologists—all trying to piece together an education that fits the child, not just the system.

I don't have all the answers. But I do have questions that we sometimes push aside because they're hard, uncomfortable, or don't fit the way things are done.

I'm sharing these thoughts this as someone who cares deeply about learning—about students, teachers, and the environments that hold them. I hope it opens up some honest conversations, whether that's around kitchen tables, in classrooms, staffrooms, or policy meetings.

The Dream

I used to believe inclusion was the goal. One classroom. One curriculum. One community.

But I've started questioning whether that dream, however well intentioned, is actually achievable the way we're going about it.

You know that cartoon with the monkey, elephant, penguin, seal, dog, and goldfish all lined up for an exam? The examiner says, "For a fair selection, everyone has to take the same test: please climb that tree."

It's clever. It's uncomfortable.

And it hits way too close to home.

When the measure of success is uniform (same exam, same pace, same expectations), some learners will always be left behind. They can learn just fine; they weren't built to succeed under those conditions.

Universal Design for Learning is brilliant in theory. Remove barriers from the start rather than accommodating after the fact. In a system obsessed with standardisation though, even the best frameworks get watered down.

So I keep asking:

• Are we actually designing for all learners, or just tweaking the same thing for different creatures?

• Are we offering real flexibility in how kids show what they know?

• Are we ready to move past "fairness" meaning "sameness"?

  
  

Maybe the problem is assuming that climbing trees is the only way to show intelligence. What if instead of "Can you climb the tree?" we asked "How would you get to the top?" What if instead of "Keep up with everyone else" we asked "What do you need to succeed?"

And what if it wasn't a race at all? What if the elephant used its trunk to lift the seal? What if the monkey built a catapult for the fish? What if success wasn't individual achievement, but everyone contributing their strengths to something bigger?

What if it was "we" before "me"?

With everything happening in the world right now, imagine that for a minute.

So here's the real question:

If we stopped asking "Can you climb this tree?" and started asking

"How can we help each other reach heights we never could alone?"

What would that world look like?

Are We Designing Learning for Humans? Or Maintaining a Machine?

Walk into most classrooms and they feel like open plan offices. No play. No movement. No room to breathe. Just rows of kids packed in like a call centre, expected to sit still and focus. Even the physical space prioritises control over curiosity.

Our education system still runs on the industrial model that created it. Timetables. Bells. Standardised benchmarks. Uniform expectations.

Human development is messy and varied and influenced by way more than what shows up on a test or report card.

We have decades of research on alternatives:

• Self directed and unschooling approaches

• Nature based and outdoor learning

• Sensory aware and truly inclusive environments

• Hands on, project-based learning driven by genuine curiosity

• Coregulation and trauma informed practices

The evidence varies depending on context, but these approaches consistently improve engagement, wellbeing, and adaptability. Especially for kids who don't thrive in cookie cutter settings. The catch?

They work best as part of a flexible system, not as band aids on a one size fits all model.

So the question isn't just "How do we fix what's broken?"

It's "What would it take to build something that doesn't need constant fixing?"

What If Schools Were Built Around How We Learn—Not Just What We Learn?

Picture schools organised not by subjects, but by how people learn best. What if every adult in a school wasn't expected to teach the same way?

Some teachers are incredible at hands on projects. Others excel at movement and play. Some shine as researchers or emotional safety anchors.

You'd have educators who specialise in regulation. Who create sensory-friendly spaces. Who help a kid reset instead of shut down.

They wouldn't be "support staff." They'd be essential.

Specialists like speech pathologists or occupational therapists could become learning mentors, supporting both students and staff in understanding how learning actually works.

Some kids need structure and clear steps. Others need time to move, freedom to explore, or just space to exist before they can begin.

Isn't it the same for teachers? Different styles. Different strengths.

What if schools worked more like actual communities? More collaborative. More flexible. More human.

This isn't pie in the sky thinking. It's necessity.

The current model is burning out students and educators alike.

Meanwhile, the World Keeps Moving

While we debate how to tweak the system, technology races ahead.

Kids are already learning through AI tutors, global platforms, collaborative games, and content they can pace themselves. They're curating information, building skills on demand, figuring out how their brains like to learn.

Most classrooms still run on fixed schedules with fixed pacing and fixed expectations. Same format. Same tree to climb.

The gap between how kids want to learn and how they have to learn keeps growing.

So the question isn't just "How do we fit neurodivergent students into a traditional model?"

It's "How do we create something that works for everyone in a world that's changing this fast?"

I Don't Have the Answers, But Check This Out...

While we're still debating fixes, MacKenzie Price is building the future. Her work with 2 Hour Learning and Alpha Schools shows what education could be when we stop trying to patch up a broken system.

Not that it’s an option where we live, but our kids could actually thrive in this kind of school, and I know they're not the only ones.