Almost Forgot This is The Whole Point

Coming off of a week-long vacation (and more time than I’d like to admit scrolling TikTok and Instagram), my “For You Page” was flooded with a simple trend: short, heartfelt video clips of everyday moments --- laughing over coffee with friends, snuggling a newborn as the sun rises, enjoying a home cooked meal with family --- each captioned with the words “I almost forgot this is the whole point.” Set to soft instrumentals, these reels remind viewers to reflect on what truly matters in life and to avoid getting caught up in the everyday distractions that can easily get in the way.  

Somewhere between the third and thirtieth video, I found myself wondering: how is it that we have strayed so far from the point of inclusive education?  At its core, inclusion is about something that we all crave --- to be accepted, valued and seen.  With two young daughters, ages 3 and nearly 6, I am reminded of this daily in the most authentic ways.  Getting ready for school, they choose outfits that they love and are excited to run into class to show their teachers and peers.  At dinner, they recount “funny” conversations they shared with friends.  While settling into bed, they relive moments where they felt noticed and appreciated --- a reminder that feeling seen is what makes them feel loved.  

When any one of us reflects on our K-12 education, we are far more likely to remember the moment where a classmate helped us up after we tripped and fell in front of the entire third grade than the A we received on a biology test.  There’s a reason these moments stay with us.  When humans experience something that is emotionally significant to them, their amygdala captures a “flashbulb memory,” one that is filled with vivid details and striking clarity (Brown & Kulik, 1977).  Cognitive processes like memory are profoundly intertwined with emotion, leading to deeper learning and longer retention (Immordino-Yang & Damasio, 2007).  In the end, we remember less about what our teachers and classmates taught us, and more about how they made us feel.

Inclusive education is often understood to be the opportunity for students with disabilities to learn alongside their peers in the general education classroom.  While that is essential, true inclusion extends far beyond disability.  It is about recognizing and honoring the beautiful range of human variability --- differences in cognitive ability, lived experience, language, culture, socioeconomic status, background and learning style.  

When we create classrooms and schools that are truly inclusive, we actively dismantle the constructs that divide us into educational “insiders” and “outsiders” (Rufo & Causton, 2022).  We strip away the labels that too often define individuals by their perceived limitations and replace them with a shared identity of contributors and learners.  When we do this well, the impact transcends education.  Over time, the intentional act of designing a school system that values the gifts of each person reshapes the communities we live in.  Society becomes less concerned with the “haves,” and “have nots,” and more invested in everyone having what they need to belong.  Inclusion in schools becomes inclusion in life, and the lessons we learn in those formative years serve as a blueprint for a more compassionate and equitable world.  

Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost sight of the heart of inclusion.  Schools and universities are under mounting pressure to erase the “language of belonging” from their policies and practices.  Federal agencies have quietly stripped terms like disability, women, and Native American from official documents as a result of broad language bans tied to the threat of lost funding.  Diversity, equity and inclusion, affectionately known as “DEI,” have been recast as politically radioactive.  Perhaps most troubling of all, educators are being urged to look past the differences within their students rather than empowering them to view these differences as opportunities for connection, understanding and growth.

What happens to the new kid with no one to sit with at lunch if we stop teaching lessons of kindness and empathy?  How will our marginalized students find meaningful connections to new content if we deny them the chance to see themselves reflected in the curriculum?

Students who learn in spaces where everyone is valued carry those experiences into their friendships, workplaces and communities.  They grow into adults who make room at the table, consider whose voice hasn’t been heard, and innovate with the needs of everyone in mind.  In today’s political atmosphere, as well as the constant pressure to do more with less time, it’s easy to forget the goal.  This year, let’s remember that it’s our job to shape the type of humans who will create a just, kind and connected world. 

Almost forgot this is the whole point.