When the system doesn't bend
There's a point where you realise that no matter how hard you push, advocate, adapt, and innovate, some systems simply weren't built to bend.
As a teacher, I have spent years working to create inclusive environments, I've designed programmes, scaffolded learning, delivered professional development, and worked alongside student to try and reduce the barriers they face in education.
And yet, the deeper I have gone into this work, the clearer something has become.
Inclusion is often treated as something we add on.
A strategy.
A differentiation.
An adjustment.
But for many learners, especially neurodiverse learners, inclusion isn't an add-on. It's the foundation.
Without it, everything else becomes harder.
As a solo parent to a non-verbal autistic child, this is no longer just theoretical. It is a lived, daily reality. It is navigating systems that require constant advocacy just to access what should already be there. It's balancing professional knowledge with personal exhaustion.
And eventually, you reach a point where the question shifts. Not: "How can I keep pushing within this system?" But: "What kind of life allows both of us to thrive?"
This isn't a story about leaving teaching. It's not a story about giving up. It's about recognising that sustainability matters.
That support matters.
That proximity to people who understand matters.
That being able to show up, fully, consistently, and without constant depletion, matters.
Sometimes the most important decision isn't how hard you push forward. It's when you choose to step sideways into something that works better.
I'm still committed to inclusive education. Just in a way that's more sustainable.
