Inclusion

ADHD Heads: How can we utilise neurodiversity in shaping the future of schools?

Written by Nadia Hewstone

Nadia is a certified executive school leadership coach. She left headship to start Destino Coaching and now supports school leaders with their own development as well as development of their teams.

Below is what I shared at the ‘Breaking the Mould 2’ in Cambridge for #IWD2024. I would love to hear from you with your thoughts and reflections on the themes I explore:

I am Nadia, founder of Destino Coaching – an organisation that supports Headteachers to remain strategic while tackling the enormous amount of operational challenges in schools.

I want headteachers to increase their influence over policy.

Usually, I’m invited to speak about ways to stay on track with your big goals in headship. Over many years I have developed several planning strategies to help me stay focussed and on track. The main principles are now tools I teach the headteachers I work with.

Looking back over my career I see that I became hyper focussed on finding ways to overcome the challenges I faced associated with being neurodivergent. This is what I want to explore with you today.

Over the next 10 minutes, I want to make a case for the need for neurodivergent leaders in schools as one of the key ways we will address the multiple systemwide issues schools are now facing.

My story

Like many parents of neurodivergent children, I started to look at some of my own behaviours through the lens of my developing understanding of autism and ADHD about 10 years ago, when I was a headteacher. Both of my children have autism and ADHD and my own assessment of ADHD raised a question about potential ASD too – I have yet to find the time and space to investigate this but I have ADHD and while I am just one person with ADHD, I have now worked with many neurodivergent headteachers and have thought long and hard about what we bring to schools as a group.

As a woman with ADHD I face several struggles and I also experience a freedom I believe is unique to neurodivergent women. Here are some things about me that can appear strange to others:

I stand up for meetings or regularly leave my seat if I am required to be seated.
I often put tasks off until the last minute
I find it difficult to follow people when they give long explanations or instructions. I can appear to be bored – and often I am!
I have to try very hard not to finish other people’s sentences and speak over them in an attempt to speed them up
I have to work extremely hard at relaxing and being calm – even though I know it is essential to my well-being
I need others around me to attend to details as I find detail painfully difficult and race forward
I break rules – especially when they don’t make sense to me
I do not proofread my documents

The first time I went on a road trip with my deputy Steff, we stopped at a service station and her standout memory of this day was me getting out of the car before she’d finished parking. She still laughs at this memory now. While I see the funny side I also stand by the decision to do this – she is a stickler for doing things correctly, accurately, by the book – I am not. I saw an opportunity to get our Starbucks order in while she finished her perfect bay parking exercise – therefore cutting down lost time.

Steff and I were a match made in heaven! She was accepting of my pace and challenging about my shortcomings – she gave me space to lead my way and facilitated my growth through her attention to detail. I will love her for this forever.

Now that I recognise many of my behaviours as part of my ADHD, I am learning to work with them, quieten my inner critic and communicate more effectively so that others do not take offense.

As a headteacher, I implemented change very quickly and my high energy meant I took my team with me – they told me I was full of purpose and great fun to work with. I also disregarded things I saw as unnecessary restrictions. This was sometimes significantly risky but meant we cut through challenges and achieved things more quickly.

I’ll leave it up to you to imagine the downsides of all this for my school business manager!

I have had 12 female coaching clients over the past 5 years who have a diagnosis of ADHD and all of them report frustration with the restrictions placed on them by the education system.

Neurotypical heads undoubtedly experience this too – the difference is that people with ADHD view this as intensely impossible to work around.

Coaching women with ADHD is generally focussed on how to achieve their massive, exciting, propositus goals despite external barriers such as Ofsted, the National Curriculum and prescriptive working practices. Mostly they are successful once we work out how to embrace the difference.

People with ADHD are 60% more likely to be dismissed from a job, and three times more likely to quit a job impulsively (Barkley, 2008). This is a great loss to society and I hope we can reverse this in schools so that we can secure a way forward that serves young people.

2. Broken system – needs radical change

If you work in a school, I don’t need to tell you the system is broken:

A widening gap between rich and poor educational outcomes
Fewer resources
Greater mental health needs in our young people
Fewer services to support children and families

I believe that we need a different type of school leadership, a different kind of teacher.

Teachers and leaders are still trapped by the exam treadmill, still unable to have in-depth curriculum discussions or spend proper time collaborating.

Imagine if we flipped the story and leaders and teachers were designing the curriculum, to better match modern societal needs with an intelligent approach to assessment alongside it.

I suggest that neurodivergent thinking is a great way to flip any story.

3. Creative thinking

Take impulsivity, one of the main symptoms of ADHD. The studies suggest it might lead people to have more original ideas. That’s because people with ADHD often lack inner inhibition. This means they have trouble holding back when they want to say or do something.

Many of my neurodivergent clients have found a new voice and new priorities, including giving attention to staff wellbeing and rethinking the micro-management that characterises so many schools. But achieving this small-scale will not have the impact we need it to have and they often do this at the cost of risking their career.

Women with ADHD, in my experience, tend not to fear the truth and make brilliant cases for what new approaches might look like when systems are broken. More importantly, they often have the drive to see it through. This can appear radical, stubborn even, but for us it’s just about doing what makes sense.

In my book, the Unhappy Headteacher, I explore ways we can still have influence and find joy in the role – because I believe we can. I also believe the system needs drastic change with an uncompromising model of implementation. To me, it is clear that neurodivergent women have a valuable part to play in this.

And gender does matter here. According to Association for Adult ADHD (AAD) men with ADHD are likely to develop aggressive and defensive behaviours in response to being misunderstood, Whereas women with ADHD are more likely to mask and experience self-doubt. This self-doubt can be a gift in headship as with support, it is the place where growth and empowerment can be found.

What all adults with ADHD do have in common, in my experience is inner steel. We find EVERYTHING hard and to find fulfillment and do the stuff that lights us up – like pursuing excellence for a school – we have to accept that we will face tremendous amounts of challenge. Mostly because others often misunderstand our intentions. We share a bounce-backability that is unique to neurodivergent leaders and has prepared us well for the current state of affairs. When everything is hard anyway, dealing with the funding crisis seems surmountable somehow – leaders with ADHD believe there is a way to do the impossible, we just need to find it and we know we can

4. Representation

And let’s not forget the importance of representation in all of this. I have a client who has a diagnosis for autism and fears being open about this with her seniors because of her perceived risk of not being considered for promotion. This saddens me when I think about how far we still have to go in exposing our students to the talent and capability of people with ADHD. Our young people deserve to see examples of adults like them leading schools successfully yet as a culture we still shy away from celebrating the gifts of ADHD – these ‘gifts’ scare us rather than inspire us – what message does that give our young people with ADHD and what potential are we stunting?

Neurodivergent students need opportunities to learn ways to manage the challenges associated with serial rushing and extreme procrastination – what better way to do this than having high-performing leaders with ADHD modelling this around them.

My son has an EHCP and was recently interviewed by an Ofsted inspector in his college who asked him why he thought he’d been so successful at 6th Form, after performing below average at all other stop-off points. Lucas cited the single most important factor as being taught by a maths teacher who is autistic and comfortable with it. Could it be true that to become a mathematician, Lucas needed to see someone like him in the role first? And if so, what does this say about representation among our teachers and leaders in schools?

So how can we utilise neurodiversity in shaping the future of schools?

Create a climate where neurodivergent school leaders feel free to be unapologetically themselves
Celebrate neurodiversity in schools and society
Recognise behaviours associated with ADHD and get excited about them as a sign that creative thinking is taking place
Follow women with ADHD – they have survival mechanism we need right now in schools

Open-mindedness: The most important thing we can teach young people

Written by Liselle Sheard

Liselle is an experienced Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion professional, driving change in organisations of all sizes including global ftse 100 companies. Liselle is passionate about having a positive influence and encouraging others to do the same.

In a study by Mind UK (2021), 78% of young people said that school had made their mental health worse. 70% of young people who experienced racism in school said that it had negatively impacted their wellbeing. These stats are expected to increase further for minoritised young people. At such a critical age, children are internalising negative beliefs about their differences, and are questioning their place in society. Can we expect young people to achieve top grades and sail through school when the environment is excluding underrepresented groups and shaving their confidence at the very beginning of their journey into adulthood?

Complex data analysis and strategic models have a necessary place in the fight to drive systemic change, but are we overlooking the power of fundamental traits such as curiosity and open-mindedness? Can educational institutions model these traits to drive inclusion, and teach young people to follow suit?

Open-mindedness is the willingness to actively search for a diverse range of information, perspectives, and solutions when navigating through life. It’s the ability to admit that we always have more to learn, and that our experiences shape our perspectives.

In the education industry, open-mindedness can drive an inclusive environment for young people, whilst also encouraging them to be a catalyst for change themselves. In this sense, open-mindedness is about encouraging individuality whilst forging togetherness in the process.

Open-mindedness and finding identity:

Navigating the education system as a young person can bring about complex emotions. Systemically, individual differences and needs have been left out of the conversation, with a holistic service delivered in the same way to everyone. Young generations have expressed feeling stripped of their individuality and self-expression, making it difficult for students to find out who they really are, and grow confidence in their own identity.

To overcome this, self-exploration must be encouraged and welcomed wherever possible, and students should be given the power to consider what is important to them. When this culture is embedded into schools and colleges, it’s embedded into the outlook that young people have on life, increasing their respect and empathy for those around them.

An open-minded education system would fuel a culture of acknowledging the positives of our differences, giving young people the tools they need to support one another.

Open-mindedness can break down the stigma and shame attached to diversity and begin to replace this with pride. However, achieving this culture shift requires commitment from everyone, from industry bodies to individual teachers.

On one hand, it’s crucial that we take steps to increase the diversity of leaders in the education system so that representation is visible to young people during their childhood. On the other hand, we also need to be working to diversify the content covered in the curriculum so that young people are educated on different cultures and perspectives. Students should be able to learn about their own histories in school, as well as uncovering the histories of people with different identities to themselves.

Open-mindedness and finding purpose:

A wealth of research highlights the link between happiness, success, and purpose (Harvard Business Review, 2022). Rather than mapping out young people’s lives for them and pushing them to follow a rigid process, students should be taught the importance of finding their own purpose.

Young people should be supported in finding a purpose that will give meaning to whatever they do. By adopting this mindset, we can encourage students to create their own opportunities, and be ready to explore anything that comes their way.

With an open-minded outlook, young people are more likely to engage in information from a diverse range of creators, encouraging them to build connections with those who have different backgrounds to themselves, and expanding the opportunities that become available to them. Young people should be encouraged to remain curious and enjoy the journey of growing older. This journey is inevitably more educational and colourful when diversity is embraced.

Open-mindedness and its impact on others:

Being open-minded not only helps individuals to increase their understanding of the world and access opportunities, but it also helps young people to make more well-rounded and empathetic decisions that support others.

Open-minded young people bring a future of more inclusive friends, colleagues, innovators, and leaders. As the future of the planet and society becomes ever more uncertain, it’s fundamental that we support young people to build a future where everyone can thrive together.

If we look at many of the most widely recognised thought leaders across the world – from storytellers to artists, to activists – a key trait shared amongst them is their own open-mindedness, and their ability to open other minds to new ways of thinking. The most influential art, music, films, books, and speeches are those that stimulate; blurring societal boundaries and questioning norms.

As younger generations become increasingly more attached to the mission of driving wellbeing and inclusion, they themselves should be empowered in the education system to offer reverse-mentoring and share their ideas for change. Welcoming diverse young perspectives will build the confidence of students and teach them how to find their own power. Opening opportunities for students to be the ‘teachers’ would help to highlight how young people feel, where improvements can be made, and what actions can be taken to drive a more inclusive education system.

Is there a hierarchy of protected characteristics?

Written by Hannah Wilson

Founder of Diverse Educators

One of the questions we regularly ask in our DEI training for schools, colleges and trusts is which of the protected characteristics are visible within your context.

This question is deliberately wide and can be interpreted in a couple of different ways:

Which of the 9 PCs are visible? i.e. which ones can we see as some are hidden/ invisible.
Which of the 9 PCs are visible? i.e. which are present in our community and thereby which are missing or do we not have/ know the data to confirm they are present.
Which of the 9 PCs are visible? i.e. which are being spoken about, invested in, have we received training on.

Often people ask do we not mean – which is a priority? And we emphasise to focus on visibility and explain the gap between intention and impact as there is likely to be some dissonance between what is happening and how it lands.

The reflections and discussions across a full staff will surface some of the disparities of what is being paid attention to. Moreover, it will also highlight the difference in perspectives across different groups of staff – groups by role/ function and groups by identity.

A key thing for us to reflect on, to discuss and to challenge ourselves to consider is that there are nine protected characteristics – so are we thinking about, talking about, paying attention to all of them simultaneously? Are we balancing our approach to create equity across the different identities? Are we taking an intersectional lens to consider who might be experiencing multiple layers of marginalisation and inequity?

We encourage schools to lean into DEI work in a holistic and in an intersectional way, as opposed to taking a single-issue approach as our identities are not that clean cut. We worry that some organisations are focusing on one protected characteristic per year, which means that some people will wait for 8-9 years for their identity to be considered and for their needs to be met. This is also a problem as we generally spend 7 years in a primary context and 7 years in a secondary context so all 9 would not be covered in everyone’s educational journey.

Trust boards, Governing bodies, Senior leader teams do not sit around the table and decide that some of the protected characteristics are more important than others, but there will be a perception from outside of these strategic meeting spaces that there is a hierarchy. i.e. different stakeholders will have differing opinions that in this school we think about/ speak about/ pay attention to/ deal with XYZ but we do not think about/ speak about/ pay attention to/ deal with ABC.

Another thing to consider about the perceived hierarchy is regarding which of the protected characteristics we are expected to log. If all 9 of the protected characteristics are equal, why do schools only need to log and report on two of them for the pupils’ behaviour and safety – we are expected to track prejudiced-based behavioural incidents of racism and homophobia? Does this mean that transphobia, islamophobia, ableism and misogyny are less important? Does this mean we are holding the student to account but not the staff?

One solution to this specific imbalance is to move from a racist log and a homophobia log to a prejudice log. A log that captures all prejudice, discrimination and hate. A log that captures all of the isms. A school can then filter the homophobia and racism to report upwards and outwards of the organisation as required, but the organisation’s data will be richer and fuller to inform patterns of behaviour and intervention needs.

CPOMs and other safeguarding and behaviour software systems enable you to tailor your fields so see what capacity yours has to add in extra fields. You can then log all prejudice and track for trends but also target the interventions. We have been working with a number of pastoral leaders and teams this year to grow their consciousness, confidence and competence in challenging language and behaviour which is not inclusive and not safe. We are supporting them in making their processes and policies more robust and more consistent to reduce prejudice-based/ identity-based harm in their schools.

Another consideration alongside the student behaviour logging and tracking is to also consider the logging of adult incidents. Do our people systems capture the behaviours e.g. microaggressions and gaslighting that the staff are enacting so that these patterns can also be explored? Do our training offers for all staff, but especially leaders and line managers empower and equip them to address these behaviours?

So as we reflect on the question: Is there a hierarchy of protected characteristics?

Consider how different people in your organisation might answer it based on their unique perspective and their own lived experience. And then go and ask them, to see how they actually respond so that you become more aware of the perception gap – if we do not know it exists, we cannot do anything about it – and the learning is in the listening after all.

Safeguarding Inclusion: Nurturing Diversity in Educational Settings

Written by Caroline Anukem

Caroline Anukem is Equity, Diversity and Inclusion Lead at Beaconsfield High School in the UK. She is a driving force, a change-maker, and a relentless advocate for equity.

In the intricate cosmopolitan British society, the journey of being black and British often interconnects with the educational landscape in profound ways. From the halls of primary schools to the lecture theatres of universities, the quest for inclusion and diversity shapes the experiences of students and educators alike. As someone who has navigated this first-hand, I have come to understand the vital role that practice and policy play in safeguarding the well-being and success of every individual within these institutions.

Reflecting on my own educational journey, I recall moments of both triumph and tribulation. From the early days of primary school to the complexities of university life, I encountered an array of challenges and opportunities that shaped my sense of self and belonging. In the midst of this journey, the importance of representation and inclusivity became abundantly clear. Seeing individuals who looked like me in positions of authority and influence instilled a sense of pride and possibility, while the absence of diverse perspectives served as a reminder of the work that still needed to be done.

When I applied for the role of Equality, Diversity, and Inclusion (EDI) Lead. Initially, it struck me as a novel and innovative approach to promoting inclusivity within the educational setting. However, as I delved deeper into the role and its implications, I came to realise the profound parallels between EDI and safeguarding.

Just as safeguarding measures are in place to protect the physical and emotional well-being of students, EDI initiatives serve to safeguard the diversity and inclusion of all individuals within the educational community. From ensuring that curriculum materials reflect a diverse range of perspectives to implementing policies that promote equality of opportunity, the role of an EDI Lead is multifaceted and far-reaching.

In many ways, the principles of safeguarding and EDI are intertwined. Both prioritise the creation of safe and supportive environments where individuals feel valued, respected, and empowered to thrive. Just as safeguarding protocols employ a triage system to prioritise the most urgent needs of students, EDI initiatives must also adopt a strategic and targeted approach to address the unique challenges and barriers faced by marginalised communities.

One of the most profound benefits of a truly inclusive and diverse educational environment is the transformative impact it has on individuals and communities. When students see themselves reflected in the curriculum, when they encounter diverse perspectives and experiences in the classroom, it enhances a sense of belonging, wellbeing and empowerment which will ultimately correlate to improved academic achievement. It cultivates empathy, resilience, and a deep appreciation for the richness of human diversity.

As an EDI Lead, my role is not just about implementing policies and practices; it is about embedding a culture of inclusivity and respect that permeates every aspect of school life. It is about amplifying the voices of marginalised communities, challenging systemic barriers, and championing the rights of every individual to learn and thrive in a safe and supportive environment.

The journey towards creating truly inclusive and diverse educational settings is a collective endeavour that requires commitment, collaboration, and courage. This has prompted Beaconsfield High School (BHS) to take the bold step of hosting our first EDI conference in April this year. We will focus on highlighting the parallels between safeguarding and EDI. We will strive to communicate better understanding of the interconnectedness of these principles and the profound impact they have on the well-being and success of students.

In conclusion, the journey from the simplicity of my village education in Liverpool to the vibrant inclusivity of BHS is a testament to our progress. Yet, it serves as a reminder of how much further we can go. As an EDI Lead, my commitment is to develop a learning environment thriving on differences, not just educating minds but nurturing hearts, building lasting friendships, relationships and encompassing the British Values in our daily practices. The journey toward a more inclusive and equitable educational landscape continues, one story at a time.

The reality of being black in Durham - a diversity deficit

Written by Charlotte Rodney

As an undergraduate student currently pursuing my law degree at Durham University, I am an advocate passionate about Human Rights, hoping to propel into a career at the Bar. Public speaking, debating, and writing have always been passions of mine, placing conversation at the forefront of my passions. With a willingness to better understand intersectionality that is necessary but often lacking in educational institutions, I continue to pursue ventures that raise awareness on the topic of racial injustice. Writing for Durham's student publication, Palatinate, and immersing myself further into the legal field as a Durham University Women in Law Mentor, as well as being a mentee of a leading Professional Negligence barrister myself, I hope to always remain immersed in academic and working practicing fields.

467.

That is how many Black students there are, including those of a mixed background, who attend Durham University as of the 2020/2021 academic year. What’s more, that is 467 students out of roughly 22,000. Whilst, as a Black student myself, I am not shocked to see that only 2.3% of Durham is Black, this may seem low to others when considering that this is well below the national university average of around 8%, and the Russell Group average of 4%. What then is causing this? In conversation for a second time with the newfound community for Black women in Durham, Notes From Forgotten Women (NFFW), we have gone further into sharing the experiences of what it is like to be Black in Durham, delving to the root cause of the problem.

Co-founders of NFFW, Chloe Uzoukwu and Subomi Otunola gave their opening remarks on what their experiences have been like as Black women in Durham. Subomi discusses coming from a largely white background having studied in Bath, and how “I got to Durham and it seemed like that same cycle was going to continue where I barely had any black friends”. Subomi then goes on to describe her experience as “disheartening” being one of the only Black people in her History and Classics modules. “Even within my college, if I wasn’t placed with black people, I would not have spoken to them because the majority of my other friends and the people I’ve met within my college have been either people of colour, broadly or White.” Chloe echoes much of Subomi’s sentiment, describing her experiences growing up in Switzerland. “I would say that my experience in Durham has actually been arguably a big improvement from what I’m used to.”

…we ARE still here

One of the key points our discussion led us to was the difficulty of Black people coming together and finding one another at Durham. Chloe describes struggling in having to reach out to others of a similar background during her early time at the University. Whilst there is a general experience shared by all university students of having to reach out to others in your new environment, Chloe emphasises how other White students have the luxury of not needing to further search for people that look like them. “I actually really had to go and branch out on my own to find other Nigerian people… which is something that, you know, white people don’t necessarily have to do.” Sara Taha, NFFW’s social media manager, added her remarks on what she believes the key issues to be. Firstly, Sara highlights that “a lot of black people feel pressured to assimilate into a traditionally English culture”. Whilst Sara emphasises that this is not to say there is no place for Black people in a traditionally English culture, “the assimilation that a lot of black individuals feel they must do is at the expense of ever talking about their culture, heritage or race again”. Secondly, the discussion led us to the opposing point that in creating Black communities within Durham, with the hopes of bringing people together to share cultural experiences, this may in fact only help perpetuate stereotypes within the Black community. Sara adds, “ACS is a crucial society in many universities, just as it is in Durham…But, ACS does cater to certain people. It is usually led by a certain demographic.” What then is Durham not getting right about diversity at university, and perhaps more importantly what is going on within the student community that leads to these two polarising cultures?

Many readers might be familiar with a recent ranking that the University received via The Times, where we placed last out of 115 other institutions on the measure of social inclusion. Whilst this is an internal factor that many students may be aware of, it feels as though Durham aren’t doing enough about it. Chloe explains that “this reputation it has for not being socially inclusive, hasn’t affected them in the slightest. And if it hasn’t really affected them in the slightest, why would they care about changing?” As Sara would put it, “Durham has a certain aesthetic it has garnered over the years.” She explained that she believes that, “rather than try to seem integrated and diverse (like so many other universities), Durham values its inherent whiteness above all else.” So, with a socially exclusive culture that evidently does not prioritise Black students, what is Durham left with?

… Durham values its inherent whiteness above all else

To address the ever-metaphorical elephant in the room, it wouldn’t be fair to discuss diversity at Durham University without talking about the diversity in County Durham, and the North East as a whole. The Office for National Statistics has revealed that County Durham is 0.3% Black as of 2021. Nonetheless, the University isn’t made up entirely of students from the North East; in fact “Durham’s recruitment has not traditionally focussed on the local area, with large numbers instead coming from outside the North East”. So why is this University continuing to fall below the national average for Black students who attend university?

Durham University published their Access and Participation Plan, a 5 year plan set to conclude in the 2024/25 academic year. Within this plan, their section dedicated to all Black Asian and Ethnic Minority (BAME) students explains that Durham’s BAME proportion of all domiciled UK students remains below the UK national average because “there are geographical factors at work. Durham’s position is consistent with its regional context. The population of the North East Region is not very ethnically diverse, and this is reflected in the ethnic diversity of the NE universities…”. Furthermore, they raise the issue of having “a particular issue around the proportion of black students, which we have begun to address…” and this is a point we will return to later. For now, this is what the response has been. Sara comments that, “as a northerner, I know that there is a significant lack of black people here than down south. However we ARE still here.” Subomi added her remarks on the wider experience of what it means to be a student in higher education. “The very stereotype of what it means to be a student in the first place is to be white and to be of a certain privilege standing… we’re going to have to seek out these places to actually create a space for ourselves.” This is why, as Subomi remarks, there are no societies dedicated for white people. It is acknowledged that black students are in a minority, and hence communities are set up to facilitate a sense of belonging that doesn’t automatically exist like it does for white students. The sentiment may be there, yes, however it perpetuates a system where Black students are put in a space of being reminded they will always be disadvantaged. Afterall, you are perceived Black before you’re a student.

When asked for a comment, A Durham University spokesperson said: “We’re building a diverse, safe, respectful and inclusive environment where people feel comfortable to be themselves and flourish – no matter what their race, background, gender, or sexual orientation. “We recognise we have more progress to make in attracting black and other under-represented student groups to Durham, to ensure they feel welcome and to support their development while they are here.

“In making progress, it’s important to identify and develop solutions with our students, drawing on their lived experiences, as well as working with partners and specialist advisers. As part of this, we are consulting with student groups on the development of our new Access and Participation Plan. “We are also hoping to get a deeper understanding of the lived experiences of our racially minoritised students through our upcoming Equality, Diversity and Inclusion Survey which will open on 5 February. We encourage our students to respond so we can build as accurate a picture as possible – further details of how to get involved will be shared very shortly.”

Whilst statistics are great, and plans towards diversifying the University community may be well-intended, one can’t help but get a feeling that this isn’t an active priority for Durham University. For instance, their five year action plan “intends to add 100 UK domiciled black students by 2024/25”. That would be less than 0.5% of the student community. Sara expressed her disdain of the wording of a following paragraph which reads “Durham is not based in an area of the UK with a great deal of ethnic diversity and students with low aspirations are often unwilling to move significantly from their local area.” Sara explains that “I find the label ‘low aspirational’ to be offensive and based in racist stereotypes that black people ‘are not trying for a better future the way white people and other races are’.” What’s more, she calls for more compassion from the University in acknowledging the intersectionality of this issue.

I now call each and every reader to a point of reflection. As a Black student, would you find yourself recommending Durham University as an institution? The differing responses I have had perhaps speaks to the complexity of the issue. Chloe explains that, “I hate that we have to feel like we need to downplay ourselves simply because we’re afraid of stepping into white spaces. I don’t think that’s fair on us. And so I would 100% recommend the University to other Black students…but not without its warnings.” On the other hand Sara notes, “I am not likely to recommend Durham to fellow black students/friends, if they are used to a certain standard of diversity. First year, first term, was one of the most isolating periods in my life because my college was not diverse in any sense of the word.” What then are we left with considering the space, or lack thereof, there seems to be for Black students in Durham?

The very stereotype of what it means to be a student in the first place is to be white and to be of a certain privilege standing…

The University may have a lot to answer for in terms of tokenised efforts to add a mere 100 Black students by 2025, but the issue goes beyond that. We are immersed daily in a culture at this University where Black people are invisible. And in efforts to make us more visible, we are confined to our black spaces that very much have their own shortcomings. What might there be for us? The answer is simple: plenty. There is as much at this University for a Black student as there is for a White student, and every other ethnic background in between. Although it may not look like it, because the diversity is not fairly representative at all, we are still here and calling for the University to make more substantial efforts at diversity, beginning with tearing down the harmful association with Black students and low aspirations. So, the next time Durham University ranks comically low in what are extremely important areas of social inclusion, ask yourself who that benefits, and think of the number 467.

"How do we decide when to teach the names of private parts in Primary School?"

Written by Ian Timbrell

Ian is an education consultant and trainer, supporting schools develop their provision for LGBT+ pupils and their RSE curriculum. He has worked in education for 15 years; including as a class teacher and a deputy head teacher.

Debating whether to teach the names of genitals in Foundation Phase/Stage education (ages 3-7) is a nuanced discussion that encompasses considerations of child development, cultural norms, parental preferences, and educational goals. Making this discussion more complex is that in most countries (England and Wales included), when to introduce the names of genitals in Relationships and Sexuality Education (RSE) is not specified to a single age, but within a range (generally 3-11). In both England and Wales, schools are expected to teach the names of body parts, but which body parts, in which order and at what age, are not referenced. This is needed to provide schools flexibility to teach children at a stage appropriate to them, but has also resulted in a wide range of interpretations with some schools introducing the terms as young as 3, with other schools only teaching them when introducing lessons on puberty in upper KS2. I get regular questions about a particular RSE providers who provide lesson plans on the names of genitals in year 1. The rationale given by the organisation is not based in research, but in their own experience and through conversations with practitioners and so although a scheme has this lesson in, there are considerations that need to be made when deciding when to follow this guidance.

One of the reasons that it is difficult to make firm decisions about when to introduce terminology is the difficulty of finding peer-reviewed research in this area. For the most part, schools are led by either out of date research or guidance from organisations that is based on opinion and experience, rather than corroborated research. Introducing vocabulary in RSE and in areas of diversity is part of many studies and research projects and it is expected that in years to come, we’ll have more clarity in this area.

So with these difficulties in mind, what should schools do and how can we make decisions that is best for our pupils?

Arguments for Teaching Genital Names in the Foundation Phase/Stage:

Promoting Body Positivity and Autonomy: Teaching children accurate anatomical terms for genitals fosters a healthy understanding and acceptance of their bodies. By using correct terminology, some believe that children develop a sense of body positivity and autonomy, enabling them to communicate effectively about their bodies and recognise inappropriate touch.
Facilitating Safety and Awareness: Knowledge of proper anatomical names empowers children to articulate discomfort or instances of abuse more accurately. It is suggested that learning the correct names for genitals, like any other body part, have names helps break down taboos surrounding discussions of sexuality and promotes a culture of safety and awareness.
Preventing Misinformation: Using euphemisms or avoiding discussions about genital names may lead to confusion and misinformation. Children are naturally curious and may seek answers from unreliable sources if not provided with accurate information in a safe and supportive environment.
Normalizing Discussions about Sexuality: Introducing genital names in early education may usualise discussions about sexuality and reproductive health. When presented in an age-appropriate manner, such conversations may lay the foundation for future learning and promote healthy attitudes towards sexuality and relationships.

Arguments against Teaching Genital Names in the Foundation Phase/Stage:

Cultural Sensitivities and Parental Preferences: Some parents may feel uncomfortable with the idea of their young children learning genital names in an educational setting. Cultural norms, religious beliefs, and personal values vary widely, influencing parental preferences regarding what and how topics related to sexuality are addressed in early education. Introducing the genital names without the support of parents and guardians could cause conflicts with and between home and school.
Developmental Appropriateness: Critics argue that introducing genital names at too young an age may be developmentally inappropriate and potentially confusing for children. They suggest that focusing on broader concepts such as body boundaries, personal safety, and self-respect may be more suitable for early childhood education. There is also the risk that it may not be appropriate for pupils with certain ALN/SEND at a certain time, or that the resources don’t take into account their individual needs.
Respecting Family Dynamics: Education systems must respect the diversity of family structures and dynamics. Some parents prefer to address topics related to sexuality and anatomy within the family unit, tailoring discussions to their child’s individual readiness and comfort level.
Risk of Misinterpretation: Critics caution that discussing genital names in early education may inadvertently sensationalise or overemphasize the significance of genitals, potentially leading to misunderstandings or discomfort among children and parents.

Finding a Middle Ground:

In navigating this issue, finding a middle ground that respects diverse perspectives while prioritizing children’s well-being is essential. Educators and policymakers can consider the following approaches:

Consult with parents and experts: Engage parents, carers, and experts in child development, psychology, and education to gather insights and perspectives on the issue. Work with the community to develop an approach that works for your school, not because a scheme dictates it.
Plan for individuals: Do not take a blanket approach to teaching. Consider whether every pupil is ready and what reasonable adjustments need to be put into place for certain pupils.
Provide opt-out options: When permitted by the curriculum, offer parents the opportunity to opt their children out of specific lessons or discussions related to genital names, respecting their autonomy and preferences.
Emphasise sensitivity and inclusivity: Approach discussions about genital names with sensitivity, inclusivity, and cultural awareness, acknowledging diverse perspectives and beliefs within the community.

The debate over whether to teach genital names in early childhood education reflects the broader discourse surrounding sexuality education, child development, and cultural sensitivities. The review of RSE in England may provide additional transparency around this issue, but until then, we have to use our professional judgement and work with all stakeholders to ensure that our children get quality RSE and are safeguarded against harm.

Holistic Education for Diversity and Inclusion as Competitive Advantage for Prosperity

Written by Harold Deigh

Harold Deigh is an Educator and burgeoning Entrepreneur, qualified in International Business & Management / Economic and Social Policy / PGCE PCET (Post-compulsory Education and Training). His education, like most, includes lived experiences and circumstances, differences and intersections and indelible input of our five senses. His training and teaching experience in IGCSE Business, Humanities, Pastoral care, PSHE, SMSC, Citizenship, Health and Social Care and Well-being. Likewise, he is conversant in Value creation, Sustainability, ICT in Global Society (ITGS), Digital and Financial literacy, Global Holistic education, Customer relationship and Customer service.

It is good to know that life is a relationship – a series of shared moments. Moments of gratitude that we have a wonderful world, beautiful people, we belong, we overcome, with joy to enjoy, through the good education of attitude of appreciation and affection, conscious action and outcomes.

Duty and responsibility, like diversity, calls for accountability. We need to educate well and engage more. We learn, yearn and earn for a good quality of life, lifestyle and existence. To survive, manage and cope with our mental, physical, social and cultural, financial, environmental (natural and physical) health and well-being chores. But most importantly, to prevent and protect, safeguard and uphold such fundamental values of shared humanity and care of habitat (between and within countries) and its efficacious notion to serve and be served for prosperity and posterity.

The case for Holistic Education (HolEd) in helping understand Diversity and Inclusion (perhaps as seen in symbiotic nature of Biodiversity or Interdependency or Relationship), is inspiration to support a framework as a guide to better positive decision-making, problem-solving and finding right or good solutions. It employs Sustainable Enterprise, Computational Thinking, Input-Process-Outcome methods, benefits of ICT and Artificial Intelligence (AI), Sustainability Accounting, Social media, News and Information – that ensures carrying out significant but sensible power of responsibility (…that ‘Power is Responsibility and Accountability’). Engaging due diligence and duty of care, with commendable onus to humanity and habitat. We are bonded in our human traits to good quality of Life, Lifestyle, Livelihood, Liberty, Love, and Alive to enjoy the beauty and goodness they bring, and a gratifying, satisfying life of coexistence, well-being and wellness of mind, body and spirit. Recent research – THE POWER OF HOLISTIC EDUCATION – Bold News (boldnewsonline.com) May 30, 2023, highlights this.

Good knowledge of the importance and benefits of diversity and inclusion (especially as a competitive advantage (The Importance Of Diversity And Inclusion For Today’s Companies (forbes.com)– 03/03/2023) is relevant to business bottom line in particular, and society in general. I engage to explore this through the lenses of HolEd. But also embarking on creating and promoting, a comprehensive, and constructive Global Holistic Education Study Programme and Seminars of existing published accredited and approved educational resources and guides of awareness and appreciation of ‘Good and Valued Education’ and ‘A Better Life…a Better World’ pedagogy. This includes better understanding and empowering of HolEd, addressing and raising awareness of contemporary issues, changes and challenges.

Our task is to show and evidence that HolEd is worth exploring in how to proceed to successfully manage Life, Business and Society, including esteem Fundamental British Values (FBV) of: Democracy; Rule of Law; Liberty; Respect and recognition, both tolerated and celebrated, in institutions, individuals and business entities. Otherwise, its discouragement or slow demise is indicative we are against it and thus harbour unhelpful and toxic consequences for many. I particularly treasure the knowledge acquired in PCET as invaluable, especially learning, unlearning and relearning topics on:

Issues, Policies and Values (IPV)
Managing the Learning Environment (MLE)
Supporting and Tutoring Learners(STL)
Teaching, Learning and Assessment(TLA)
Emotional Intelligence Leadership

I seek to develop and engage with others, creating an all-round beneficial educational experience of importance, value and worth, with policies, processes and procedures regarding Holistic health, Wealth and Wellness, Nutritious food for our Energy source and sustenance (food for thought!). We thus embrace Fundamental Universal Values, and C21st skills for future prosperity, and good knowledge on survival for sustainable and inclusive successful business and enterprise models. A mantra of ‘No harm, hurt or hate’ to self or others and awareness, appreciation and effective and efficient means to learning, ensuring principled judgements and learning in the philosophy of UBUNTU – “I am because you are”. A conscious relationship has knowledge of good thoughts, intentions, actions and anticipated outcomes.

Physicians are made to “…first, do no Harm” – the Hippocratic oath. Society must emulate further: no harm; no hate; no hurt; no hostility or humiliation. Challenging times and daily chores come and go, so does rampage, anger and rage. As ‘valued educators’ we can courageously and confidently contest and seek to cancel amongst others, the Ills of society, misguided values, bad role models, stereotyping, by addressing and preventing the causes of these. But ensure society is imbued with the indelible disposition to heal, help, capture, cultivate, collaborate, celebrate humanity with co-existence of culture, commUnity, sustainAbility and harmony as we grow to, love and adore, create and appreciate, give and serve, care and share. There is such a thing as society… consciously functioning with humility and hope, to create, produce, sustain value and worth of a beautiful world and wonderful people…the opportunity of presence, acknowledgement and participation of individuals with varying backgrounds and perspectives, embracing our concerted successes from good education, accomplishments and achievements.

Seeing the Unseen

Written by Tyrone Sinclair

Tyrone is deputy headteacher of Addey & Stanhope School in London. He was a contributor to the BBC Teach resource, Supporting care-experienced children.

A significant majority of educators are drawn to the profession because they aspire to be catalysts for change. However, they are often taken aback by the limitations they encounter as they grapple with the multifaceted aspects of the profession. Change through support is a very delicate skill, one often not covered thoroughly whilst training, but it necessitates intentional leadership at an institutional level. Nonetheless, educators possess a unique liberty in that we are all leaders, regardless of our level of authority. We all possess the capacity to foster safety and facilitate opportunities for change within our respective spheres of influence, whether it be in our classrooms, through the curriculum, parental engagement, meetings, trips, and so forth – the possibilities are endless.

We are currently living in one of the most inclusive eras in human history. Whilst this allows for celebration, it also compels us to delve deeper and consider who is being included. Whose voices are being marginalised? Whose experiences are being disregarded? Who is seen and who is unseen? Ultimately, how is equity being applied in these circumstances?

The fight for inclusivity is a pursuit of social justice that extends far beyond the confines of the classroom. Its effects can be recognised and rewarded on a global scale. Although we may be making progress towards inclusive equity, it is important to acknowledge that not all spaces prioritise safety or consideration for all individuals. Education, therefore, is an embodiment of social justice as it endeavours to address the various inequalities that exist within society by creating opportunities and explicitly striving to provide equal opportunities for all.

This raises the question – what can I, as an educator, do? Amidst the external pressures, deadlines, targets, and ever-expanding job description, how can I make a meaningful change?

I believe the answer lies not in what can be done, but rather in how it can be done. I have been challenging educators to reconsider the spaces they create for safety. I urge them to contemplate the most vulnerable student who may ever enter their classrooms. Consider all the safeguarding concerns, whether they are rooted in familial or contextual factors. Reflect on the experiences these students have endured not only throughout their short lives, but even on that very morning. Contemplate the sacrifices and who they have to leave at the door just so they can walk into your space and conform.

Care-experienced young people are often among the most vulnerable individuals we encounter. The range of experiences they may have endured is vast, but more often than not, these experiences are far from ideal. Imagine the worst possible scenario. Consider the impact this must have on their worldview and how this trauma manifests itself in their thoughts, pathology, behaviours, and even their physical wellbeing. Now, take into account the intersectionalities that these young people may identify with. How much more challenging would it be for those from marginalised groups? How would you connect with such a young person? How would you welcome them into your space? What measures would you put in place to support, encourage, reassure, and protect them? How would you guide them if things went awry? Undoubtedly, your approach would be thoughtful, compassionate, and considerate. We know that for every vulnerable young person we are aware of and deem worthy of intervention, there are countless others who remain unknown and unsupported. Moreover, the strain on resources and support services makes it even more arduous for marginalised groups to access the help they need. Thus, your approach and support as an educator are pivotal to the safety and wellbeing of these young people, as your intervention may be the only kind they receive. Consequently, every interaction becomes an opportunity for intervention.

The experience of marginalised groups is to be unseen. This is often unintentional, but it is undeniably systemic and institutionalised. As educators, we are on the frontlines, and it is our duty to intentionally see what the world chooses to ignore. We must consciously consider worldviews and experiences that may differ fundamentally from our own. We must be intentional about change.

What can care-experienced young people teach us?

Acknowledging the unseen requires us to not only consider young people who have experienced care, but also challenges us to broaden our considerations even before they enter the system. Many care-experienced young people were once students in someone’s classroom, often unseen and unnoticed. However, we have the privilege of seeing the unseen and deliberately choosing to create safety for them within the spaces we control and have influence over.

For more information about the BBC Teach resource, Supporting care-experienced children, please visit https://tinyurl.com/ywykzd5h

The sea belongs to me again: Steering my disabled body through an able-bodied world

Written by Matthew Savage

Former international school Principal, proud father of two transgender adult children, Associate Consultant with LSC Education, and founder of #themonalisaeffect.

On a coaching call recently, my dog, Luna, and I were surprised by a sudden knocking at our front door. I apologised to my coachee, grabbed my crutches and went to investigate. Our house is at the remotest edge of a small crofting township on the Isle of Skye, in north west Scotland, and so doorstep visitors are extremely rare. Usually, Luna alerts us when anyone appears even on the horizon, but her guard was clearly down, and the knocking made us both jump.

We moved to Skye in the summer of 2021, post-lockdowns and having recently returned to the UK after a decade working in the international schools sector, our two children soon to fly our family nest. Like so many itinerant educators, enriching and mind-opening though the experience had definitely been, we were determined to find roots, and this was, we hoped, to be our ‘forever home’.

It offered a remoteness that appealed strongly to my inner introvert, and with nature at its absolute grandest at our finger- and toetips, I would be able to do some of the things I loved the most, every single day, hiking, trailrunning or losing myself in Luna-exhausting walks. In fact, there was a footpath from the end of our drive, snaking across the moors to a colony of harbour seals, but one jewel on a rugged coastline I longed to explore from the rocks, a kayak, or even, if I could brave the temperature, the waters themselves.

However, the weekend before our move, I began to fall ill. A complex neurological disorder would, within just a few months, confine me to a wheelchair, completely unable to walk. Swapping two legs for four wheels, my life would change unrecognisably. Two years on, try as I might and despite the ‘disability pride’ badge occupying pride of place below my computer monitor, I am struggling to be proud of my disability, even though – with each passing day, week, month – the lines between my disability and me are disappearing completely.

Many of my everyday symptoms – the allodynia that secretly burns my skin, the angry twitches that shock my muscles, the stammer that silently benights my speech, the spasticity which tugs my shrinking legs – are invisible to others. But everyone can see that I cannot walk, and learning to navigate an able-bodied world with a disabled body has taught me so much. About our bodies and all the things we take for granted; about a world designed and built by and for those who can walk; and about the power perpetuated by that design and construction, the tyranny of physical space.

I am privileged to be engaged in a project, with tp bennett architects and in association with ECIS, in which we aim directly to challenge that power and to seek what we are calling ‘liberated school spaces’. Teams of educators, architects and students will explore how the different spaces in our schools – circulation, classroom, sustenance, personal and outdoor – can too easily exclude, marginalise and oppress the very, marginalised groups they should most seek to include. A school campus, like the world beyond its gates, is, in so many ways, an instrument of power, and that has to change.

But it is beyond the school gates that I have most experienced this tyranny myself, and I share here some small windows into my story. These snippets are about planes, trains and automobiles; about bathrooms, doors, and bathroom doors; and about curb cuts, actual and metaphorical. Because all of these have, in their own way, kept me on the margins of society; because I know that my ‘protected’ characteristic is unprotected, tyrannised even; and because each of these spaces could, and should, be liberated.

Beyond the safe and known confines of our Highlands bungalow, I navigate any internal or external space in my electric wheelchair. The ‘door’ is a convenient metaphor for the portal to any community of power (we talk about getting our ‘foot in the door’, for example); but that portal, for me, is literal. If I want to enter or exit any building, or room therein, I am typically faced with a heavy, handled, hinged, outward-opening door, despite the fact that the only door that is easy and safe to open in a wheelchair is a sliding door, manual or, better still, mechanised.

This challenge is everywhere, in many an ‘accessible’ hotel bedroom, and especially so when I want to enter an ‘accessible’ bathroom. Almost every time I have wanted to use a public bathroom, I have had to ask a stranger if they would open it for me. As someone who does not believe students should have to ask for permission to use the bathroom, I certainly do not think I should have to do so myself. To add insult to injury, many an accessible bathroom does not provide sufficient turning space either; and flying out of one airport recently, I was told there was no accessible bathroom available at all.

As a consequence, I commonly try to minimise my fluid intake when out of my house, so that I do not have to suffer the indignity of a bathroom whose ‘accessibility’ is but a mirage, a performative badge that may tick boxes but does not liberate the disabled user. This is not to mention the bizarre requirement in many a public space that a wheelchair user report to a cashier in a nearby shop to collect, and return, the special bathroom key. I recognise this is to ensure able-bodied users do not occupy this targeted space – but, again, the design, much as it may seek to liberate, does anything but.

Whilst I love the success with which Zoom masks my disability, I love my face-to-face work. Norah Bateson calls this aphanipoiesis, the communing and commingling of multiple stories in a submerged, liminal space from which could eventually emerge a seedling of hope. And for me, professionally, nothing compares to this; how fortunate am I that the pandemic lifted its pall such that I can safely travel around the world again. And yet each flight, or succession thereof, treads on my agency and dignity, and my comfort and safety, at every juncture.

The system through which one requests special assistance when booking a flight varies between airlines in all but one thing: its complexity. Even airlines which build it into the booking process rarely pass this information on to the check-in staff, leaving me having to explain my medical condition and requirements again, all in earshot of an increasing, and increasingly irritated queue. And most airlines require persistent and repeated phonecalls and emails to secure a promise only that they will endeavour to provide said assistance.

I used to rely on the airport wheelchairs, but the understaffing of the privatised assistance teams, combined with the fact that most airport wheelchairs are not self-propelling, left me, too often, stranded in a corner, facing a wall, without access to food, water or a bathroom for several hours. Therefore, I invested in a foldable, electric wheelchair, which is now, to all intents and purposes, my legs. Just as I manage, despite numerous objections, to take it to the plane door, I am always promised that it will be returned to the door on landing; but, on landing, I am commonly told that it has been “lost”, panic setting in until it is discovered again, somewhere in the baggage hall.

Going through security is, at best, undignified and, at worst, invasive; on only one occasion have I been permitted to take my wheelchair onboard, and so my agency is taken away with it; boarding is a spectacle, whether or not I manage to avoid being forcibly strapped into the onboard wheelchair; the safety instructions, written or spoken, never mention someone like me; my crutches are routinely confiscated, and retrieving them, should I need the (inaccessible) bathroom, is laboursome.

And, on landing, it is not uncommon for me to remain on board for up to an hour after everyone else has disembarked, the crew for the following flight patiently caring for me until assistance has arrived. Every flight I take takes away a little part of me, and I am lesser forever thereafter. And yet, with intentionality, consultation and compassion, air travel is a space that could easily be liberated. The likes of Sophie Morgan fight this fight on my behalf; I used to give feedback myself, but nothing ever changed, and it is hard then not to give up on feedback altogether.

I love curb cuts. Designed in California by Ed Roberts and others in the 1950s and 1960s, they took one of the discriminating spikes of hostile architecture, and literally excised it to create a ramp that directly benefits people like me, but from which everyone else also benefits. Such a powerful idea is this that I use its metaphorical equivalent as one of the instruments of equity and justice through which every aspect of the school experience can be adapted for universal belonging.

However, whenever I navigate the pavements of a city, I have learned not to depend upon the existence of the actual curb cuts which would enable me to move, unencumbered, through those built environments. The only city where I have not faced this difficulty was Amsterdam, but this is because of the prevalence, far further up the food chain, of the bicycle; the wheelchair was an afterthought. I often talk to schools about the tussle, in any practice, between coincidence and consistency, and this is, fundamentally, an equity issue. The same is true for the humble curb cut.

In London recently, I selected a restaurant based on its social media and website having declared it fully accessible, only to arrive and find there was a step to enter the premises. This is not just frustrating; it is humiliating, distressing, and infuriating. The step may as well be a brick wall. Then there is the construction work which has temporarily diverted pedestrians on to the road, but without a ramp to cut that curb. And on a recent train journey, a step-free station was closed, which meant I had to ask several strangers to lift me, on my wheelchair, from the train at the next station.

Which brings me to the ramps, installed or designed with the best intentions, deliberate acts of inclusion, whose gradient is simply too steep to carry my wheelchair safely upwards. On at least three occasions this year, it is only the sharpest reflexes of a group of adults coincidentally nearby that prevented my wheelchair tipping backwards and sending me tumbling to likely serious injury below. Or the promised ramps which, for whatever reason, did not materialise, leaving me depending, again, on others, this time to lift me up the steps to the upper level.

I share none of these stories, any more than I would the myriad other stories I kept back, to elicit pity. No disabled person I know wants that. I only aim to offer a window into the tyranny, intentional or otherwise, of the able-bodied over those whose body is disabled, but one example of the power exerted by physical spaces over those for whom said power is but a pipe dream.

Too often, the burden of fighting for accessibility, equity and justice falls to those on the margins. Some schools I visit thank me for shedding a light on the inaccessibility of their campus; it is not uncommon for a school to ask a queer educator (or student) to educate the school on the harm of a cis-/hetero-normative curriculum, culture and climate; and many a school will finally seek to adapt to the needs of the minoritized only when an educator or student happens to inhabit that particular minority. And yet, as my own story epitomises, disability is a characteristic that could suddenly strike any one of us, temporarily or permanently, at any point of our life.

Consequently, I have had no choice but to adapt myself and my life to a world which has not, nor will it, adapt to me. The crutches offered to me, by default, collapsing bruisingly beneath my faceward-falling body too many times, I commissioned bespoke crutches which not only could bear my full weight but also came with attachments for mud, sand and even snow. And I invested in a disability-adapted, fully recumbent, motorised trike, on which I can now explore the lanes and byways of rural Skye, without depending upon anybody else.

Meanwhile, let us return to our unexpected visitor, knocking to the surprise of Luna and me in the midst of my coaching call. He was part of a team, funded by the charity, Paths for All, who were rendering fully wheelchair-accessible the entire footpath from the end of our drive to the rocky shore in the distance. And he wanted to inspect my trike, to make sure that the sharpest bend in the new path could accommodate its particular turning cycle.

I may cry easily these days, but I was moved to tears by this gesture. The view from my front room, until now teasing me with a landscape that I could only watch and imagine, was soon to be liberated. Both natural and built environment were bending to my needs, and the power was shifting. Very soon, I would be able to cycle to the sea, for the first time since we moved here. The seals may not have missed me, but I have certainly missed them; and, in this space, for the first time, I would finally feel free. I have yet to manage kayaking, and I cannot swim any more, but still, in a small but significant way, the sea belongs to me again.