Some questions stay with you. They follow you into quiet moments. They come back when you are driving, cooking, writing, working, or trying to fall asleep after everyone else is finally settled. One day, my daughter asked me if her autism was “good weird” or “bad weird.” I still think about that question. Not because it was cute, although children do have a way of saying things so honestly that adults are left speechless. And not because it completely surprised me. Children n

Sometimes children do not resist exclusion loudly. Sometimes they adapt. They become quieter. They watch before joining. They copy what other children are doing. They stop asking for help. They hold in their tears. They hide discomfort. They learn which parts of themselves make adults uncomfortable. And sometimes, adults mistake that adaptation for success. We say, “She is doing so much better now.” But sometimes “better” means quieter. Sometimes “better” means less visible.

I have been thinking about the word difficult. Difficult parent. Difficult family. Difficult conversation. Difficult child. In early childhood spaces, this word can appear quickly when a family asks many questions, follows up more than once, challenges a decision, wants more information about an incident, or does not seem reassured by the first answer they receive. Sometimes the word is spoken out loud. Sometimes it is not. But the feeling enters the room anyway. Before long,

It is easy to value inclusion when the day is calm. When ratios are covered.When routines are smooth.When educators feel confident.When the child is regulated. When the family is grateful.When no one is asking for more than the program already knows how to give. On those days, inclusion can sound beautiful. Every child belongs here.We welcome all children.We value diversity.We support families.We meet children where they are. I believe those words matter. But I also believe i

At first glance, inclusion can appear to be working well. A child is enrolled. Their name appears on the attendance list. They are present in the room and welcomed into the program. On paper, it seems they are included. Yet, when we look more closely, the underlying message can feel quite different. You can belong here, as long as you do not need too much. You can belong here, as long as you can follow the routine. You can belong here, as long as your support needs do not dis

In early childhood education, educators bring more than training into the room. They bring their beliefs. They bring their experiences. They bring what they were taught. They bring what they have seen work before. They bring their own comfort levels, values, fears, and assumptions about children. Sometimes, these beliefs align beautifully. Other times, educators working in the same program may see children, behaviour, disability, routines, risk, and inclusion very differently