Pursuing Equity for Neurodivergent Students

This article is about individualized education programs (IEPs), but in a more holistic way, it’s about recognizing the humanity of neurodivergent students, a status we can often be denied through the language used in policies that are ostensibly created to help us. Even if I grant that almost all teachers who work with students with disabilities don’t mean us harm, far too few have heard directly from us about what it’s like to be inside our heads and what it’s like to feel the way we feel. Yes, I say “us” because I’m neurodivergent myself—I was diagnosed with ADHD (combined type) at age 35 and have since spent considerable time unpacking how my experience as a student was shaped by this reality, on top of the fact that no one knew or even seemed to suspect it. 

I should also mention that I’m Black and that the stereotype of a neurodivergent student—and particularly one with ADHD—does not look like me, so everyone outside of that small box has a harder time being fully seen. Instead of seeking solutions for undiagnosed students like me, I ask, “How can neurodivergent students be well-served within the potentially harmful constraints of IEP language?” 

Neurodivergent Students are not Problems to be Solved 

Most people are aware of the more visible traits of neurodivergent students: sensitivity to physical stimulation, hyper-fixation, etc. These patterns aren’t divorced from our emotionality—the fact is, we are well aware of how our physicality is viewed by our peers, and we know that we’re being assessed based on how well we can mimic the people around us. Unfortunately, the ability to create a facsimile of peer behavior is a common facet of IEPs, and this metric can leave us feeling even worse about ourselves. 

To top it off, women and people of color are diagnosed far less often than their counterparts, because the traits that signal neurodivergence can be classified as disruptive or “maladaptive,” and that leaves us as problems to be solved by our educational institutions. Our neurodivergence is our brain’s way of adapting effectively to our surroundings the best way that it can (for example, strong reactions to physical discomfort are an adaptation to help us evade distress), and unfortunately our surroundings are maladapted to us, which leads to much of the turmoil we experience.

Social Development Benchmarks Can Be Stigmatizing

With the obvious caveat that no IEP is the same, let’s examine some examples of goals that could be listed on one. It’s important to note that some of the language within it can be harmful and stigmatizing, even when crafted by educators without any malice. I won’t explain the entire policy, but you’ll catch the drift with just a few of the benchmarks (measuring success at 80 percent): 

a. _____ will raise their hand and wait to be called on before talking aloud in group settings 4/5 opportunities to do so. 

b. _____ will work cooperatively with peers in small group settings (i.e., share materials, allow peers to share different thoughts) 4/5 opportunities to do so. 

d. _____ will engage in appropriate cooperative social play interactions initiated by others 4/5 opportunities to do so. 

Many of these goals rely on the nebulous concept of “appropriateness.” The goals assume not only that the student in question doesn’t understand social conventions but also that having students placed into a rubric will push them to develop said awareness. The entire list of benchmarks is essentially an exhortation for the student to mimic their peers or face educational consequences.

Shift From a Deficit Perspective to an Asset-Based Perspective

In my view, these goals were written from a deficit perspective. If you were to craft your own list, I’d urge you to work from an asset-based perspective. But let’s say you’re given an IEP with similar language that you need to follow, and you can’t change it. How can you find the student’s humanity within these constraints?

First, you can make it fun for the student. Using the examples above, none of us enjoy the fact that mimicry can be a challenge, but if you can inject some joy into that benchmark, it might go a long way toward working against the shame students might feel. You can imagine demonstrating mimicking classmates in a way that is lighthearted and enjoyable. 

In an acting class I took in high school, we were asked to walk around the room as “ourselves.” Then, everyone else was supposed to copy our walks in an exaggerated way. I’m not necessarily suggesting this particular activity, especially if you have students with mobility issues, but the idea of the activity was that none of us move through the world in a better or worse way. “Walking” in each other’s shoes would help all of us feel like part of a broader community. Activities like this, which I’ve repeated as an educator, help students build the social skills they are, for better or worse, going to be assessed on. 

Additionally, although it’s an individual plan, there’s no reason you need to take the student aside and admonish them, explicitly or implicitly, for these social struggles. Why not explicitly encourage them, even if they fall short of a benchmark? If we want them to reach that theoretical “4/5,” let’s praise them for reaching 3/5.  What if you spent a few minutes of every class building everyone’s capacity for these skills? Create or make use of activities where turn-taking is required to succeed, rather than scrutinizing a particular student’s tendency to struggle with patience. 

It might seem silly, but even when I’ve worked with adults, I’ve had students play Jeopardy-like games where it was implied but never said aloud that participants needed to wait their turn to help their team. Even the students who struggled with patience would forget about their need to blurt out responses while they played, and no one stood out as supposedly socially deficient.

Finally, the word “appropriate” can be interpreted many ways. And indeed, cultural norms will define it quite differently. My guidance here would be to spend time understanding the student’s cultural background and learn what is socially appropriate in their context, thereby placing less pressure on them to conform to broader norms. I started my own career teaching in South Korea, where almost all of my students were meeting a Black person for the very first time. If I can bridge that cultural gap by finding out not just common linguistic phrases but also the up-to-date discourse for my students’ age range, then I feel as though anyone reading this can do the same for their students. You may come off corny, but you won’t come off as if you don’t care.

These suggestions can start you on a path to serving students more compassionately even when IEP language might feel like a massive barrier to overcome.