To Belong Is Not Enough: Why We Must Move Towards Mattering

Mohamed Abdallah portrait

Written by Mohamed Abdallah

With almost two decades of experience, Mohamed started his journey in youth work and pupil referral units before spearheading groundbreaking inclusive practices and systems as a leader in an 'Outstanding' all-through mainstream school. Driven by a relentless commitment to positive change, Mohamed now dedicates his efforts to collaborating with school leaders across the nation as the Head of the Inclusive Leadership Course at The Difference.

“No one would care if I weren’t here.”

I can remember the words hitting me hard. As Designated Safeguarding Lead there were immediate red flags, but on a human level it broke my heart.

100% attendance, great progress, and never in trouble. On paper he belonged – but in reality he thought nobody cared.

Across the country, I hear the language of belonging increasingly referenced in discussions about student engagement, wellbeing, and success. And I welcome it. It’s a refreshing shift in our narrative about the student experience.

Still, something didn’t feel right. Then, it clicked.

It is not enough to simply belong; you should also matter.

My experience has shown me that a student can belong to a school community without ever feeling that their presence or contributions truly matter. A friend recently shared a US study with me that revealed a surprising finding: a sense of ‘belonging’ to a school community did not significantly affect academic performance. But instead there were other factors that determined success, such as participation and self regulated learning.

Think about it this way: You belong to a gym, but do the regulars know your name? You belong to a workplace, but do your ideas shape the way things are done? You belong to a school, but when you are absent, is there a noticeable void?

Mattering is more than belonging to a place or a community; it is about your significance.

One of the most prominent academic advocates for mattering is the US community psychologist Isaac Prilleltensky. He argues that developing a strong sense of mattering depends on two things: feeling you are valued, and feeling that you add value – whether that be within your workplace, your community, your family, or your friendship group. In the UK, my good friend Luke Billingham has been one of the most influential thinkers and writers on young people and mattering.

The Three Components of Mattering in Schools

After multiple voice notes back and forth, Luke and I sat down to discuss this matter (see what I did there!), and we asked:

If a student stopped coming to school tomorrow, would they feel like their absence was noticed? 

Does every student have positive and affirming relationships with peers and at least one adult? 

Are students actively shaping the school environment, or are they simply complying with expectations?

These questions helped us think more deeply about mattering. Of course, students should belong. But would we be satisfied as school leaders with 100% attendance, high attainment, and zero suspensions, yet students still told us, “No one would care if I weren’t here”?

They should feel they matter.

Reflecting on our experiences in different schools, Luke and I identified some key factors which we think enable students to develop mattering; Voice, Relationships, and Participation.

  1. Voice: Too often, schools claim to prioritise student voice while keeping real decision-making at the leadership level. But voice is not just about being heard. Schools must embed student experience and perspectives into decision-making, not just through surveys, but by creating opportunities for meaningful dialogue and change. Even when student perspectives challenge us, they offer uncomfortable truths we must engage with. When students see their input shape school culture, they matter.
  2. Relationships: A student might belong to a school, but do they have relationships that affirm their worth? Schools could cultivate opportunities for positive peer relationships to create strong social bonds, and to ensure every student has at least one trusted adult. Relationships built on trust and recognition, and environments where students feel valued and connected.
  3. Participation: Mattering isn’t just about feeling noticed, it’s about feeling needed. Students need opportunities to contribute meaningfully to their school communities. This goes beyond enrichment clubs; it means ensuring that students are actively shaping their environments. Whether through student-led campaigns, or engaging with the local community, authentic participation allows students to see their impact.

Why Mattering Matters for Inclusion

I worry that belonging is being used as a catch-all solution for inclusion, or dare I say it, a form of soft inclusion. For many students from marginalised backgrounds, belonging can feel conditional. They may be required to turn up, but do they feel like their presence and identity are essential? Do they see themselves reflected in the curriculum? Are their voices shaping school systems? Are their experiences acknowledged and valued?

Mattering addresses these questions by ensuring that students are not just included, but recognised as integral members of their schools. For students from underrepresented backgrounds, the feeling of mattering can be a protective factor against marginalisation and disengagement.

If we stop at belonging, we risk creating schools where students exist but don’t thrive, they comply but are disengaged, are included but unseen. The real challenge for schools isn’t just inclusion. It’s significance. Instead of asking, ‘Do our students belong?’ ask, ‘Do they know they matter?’


I Am Not Afraid

Rachida Dahman portrait

Written by Rachida Dahman

Rachida Dahman is an international educator, a language and literature teacher, and an educational innovator. She started her career in Germany as a teacher trainer advocating the importance of relationships above academics. She then moved to Luxembourg where she teaches German language and literature classes to middle and high school students. She is an award-winning poet, co-author of the best-selling book, ATLAS DER ENTSCHEIDER Entscheiden wie die Profis- Dynamik, Komplexität und Stress meistern.

School hallways are noisy. So much simmers in those corridors during breaks, and even more seems to ferment in teachers’ lounges, in the spaces of our schools as a whole. One might call it a festival of unresolved relationships, one that struggles to keep pace with the relentless pressure of coexistence, confrontation, and interdependence. By the end of a school day, we often stand slightly hunched, worn out, with restless legs that refuse to find stillness.

Amid this disorder, schools often become arenas of fear, environments where anxieties are not merely tolerated but systematically nurtured. These fears dance unseen and unchecked while the guardians of order, the teachers and educational institutions stand by as mere spectators. But what if this breeding ground of fear is not simply the result of carelessness or overwhelm, but rather the consequence of constant monitoring, control, and evaluation?

In my own school days, things were not so different. Students were expected to know little, challenge nothing, provoke no one, and certainly not disrupt. Teachers, on the other hand, constantly provoked, carried their small scandals into the school and sometimes even into the classroom. They unsettled us, and when we went home after school, we had little to report. Math, German, English, sports—subjects isolated from one another. Even the teachers lacked unity; how could the subjects possibly converse?

I remember a history teacher who filled gaps in knowledge with half-truths about controversial topics, as though he were a chronicler from another era. His stories brought the past to life, yet within the fog of his legends, the facts remained hidden. In math class, so-called wisdom from “great thinkers” was often reduced to hollow phrases—”Einstein probably said something like this.” These words sounded clever but were no more than glittering packages. In physics, correlation was sold as causation, “The moon and bad weather? That can’t be a coincidence!” Stereotypes were used so liberally that distinguishing between reality and fiction became a challenge.

In sports, fear was a constant companion. Our physical education teacher constructed scenarios of dread, “No training? That could lead to serious long-term damage!” The art teacher presented false dichotomies: “Either you draw like Van Gogh, or not at all.” Where were the nuances? Where was the space for creativity and individual thought? The music teacher, meanwhile, sought constant excuses to shield herself from constructive criticism: “It sounded fine, didn’t it? The acoustics were just bad.” The pursuit of excellence seemed replaced by a need for approval.

Parents observed this strange game, unfolding beyond grades and lesson plans, a struggle for “the best” for their children, though it was unclear what that even meant anymore. The best opportunities, the greatest potential, the most tailored support, concepts they discussed without ever fully grasping, haunted by the question of how much of their desires were genuine and how much were projections of societal expectations.

Children sensed what adults dared not articulate — that this was as much about demands as it was about support. What simmered here weighed on all of us, a pervasive burden whose origins no one could pinpoint but whose presence was undeniable.

This was a time when sports and music icons of the 1990s sparked cultural revolutions. With their bold hairstyles and extraordinary performances, they left powerful impressions that extended far beyond their fields. They influenced not only fashion and trends but also the values and norms of an entire generation, embodying success, individuality, and determination. Yet the school corridors simmered. A cacophony of invisible tensions echoed between the walls, while the daily routines left unspoken feelings like a tangled web between teachers, students, and parents.

Parents understand that children learn as much about social dynamics in school as they do about academic content. The lessons taught in classrooms are only a fraction of the school’s essence. It is the interpersonal relationships and encounters that leave lasting imprints, shaping self-worth. Sadly, this invisible yet essential layer often remains untouched and unformed. Students seem to be molded into compliant chess pieces in the game of knowledge dissemination. But what of their independence, their ability to express themselves, their courage to be authentic?

“Tell me how you speak to my child, and I will tell you who you are to them.” Language shapes our self-perception, and this is especially true in schools. The way a teacher speaks to students often reflects how they perceive their relationship with them. Are the words mere rhetorical phrases repeated out of habit, or is there genuine dialogue? Students are perceptive, quickly recognizing whether a teacher’s words make them feel valued or dismissed.

When communication is honest and direct, it creates a space where students can trust that their thoughts and feelings are welcome in school. Sadly, this is not always the case. Too often, we encounter linguistic “theater tricks,” half-truths, exaggerated dramatizations, or the subtle construction of false dichotomies, “Either you understand it, or you just don’t have what it takes.” Language, however, could serve a different purpose, reducing fear and building authentic connections.

The days of teachers as untouchable authorities, almost divine in stature, are over. This venerable role, where educators not only imparted knowledge but also moral judgments and ethical frameworks, has been increasingly supplanted by social media. Today, it is platforms and influencers, not teachers, that shape the values and norms of our students. Algorithms and digital streams dictate what is right and wrong, eroding the teacher’s role as a moral compass.

When I ask educators, “What do you think was truly happening then, and is it definitively different today?” I rarely receive a clear answer. Perhaps the point is no longer the answers but the questions themselves. Asking the right questions is a form of resistance in this era. Questions that inspire rather than inflame, that touch rather than coerce.

The fear of new technologies like artificial intelligence (AI) may be significant, but the greater threat lies in the erosion of human connections that should form the bedrock of education. True education requires profoundly personal and meaningful relationships, not just to address technological challenges but to renew and solidify the interpersonal foundations of teaching and learning.

Children are acutely sensitive to language. They are deeply aware of repetition, which is why rituals carry emotional weight. As adults, especially in classrooms, how we speak to them matters immensely. Every word, every gesture reflects what we hope for them and believe in them. Relationships cannot thrive in utter chaos; they falter when they cannot take root in fertile ground. We must create spaces where these relationships can flourish, enabling genuine connections and fostering a positive learning environment. It takes courage to step into these spaces of vulnerability and to cultivate an atmosphere where students not only learn but also experience what it means to be part of a community. Every child has the right to sovereignty over their feelings and their story, and these spaces should be defined by openness and respect.

The future of education lies in empowering these voices, breaking rigid structures, and rethinking what is possible. As educators, we must rise to the challenge of creating spaces of vulnerability where students can safely express their fears and hopes, fostering an environment where learning is not only possible but joyful. By engaging in true dialogue, we can transform the corridors of our schools from places of fear into spaces of growth and understanding.

Only then can schools become what they were meant to be, vibrant places of learning where every person, regardless of their background or history, has the opportunity to thrive and find their voice. In honoring children as autonomous beings with their own stories and inalienable emotions, we unlock the fundamental relationships that make learning meaningful and transform schools into places of deeper humanity.


What's Special About You? Teaching Children About Identity.

Mel Lane portrait

Written by Mel Lane

Mel Lane (she/her) is Head of Education at Pop’n’Olly. She has been a primary school teacher and teacher trainer for nearly 30 years and worked in schools on LGBT+ inclusion policies with thousands of children and school staff. Mel is a co- author of What Does LGBT+ Mean? (Pop’n’Olly, 2021).

“I don’t know what’s special about me… I don’t have anything special about me,” a 5-year-old once told me. I’ll be honest, I was shocked. How could a child not be able to say a single thing that made them feel proud of themselves? – Nothing that singled them out from everyone else.

It was a learning curve for me. I realised that knowing what makes you special isn’t something that children necessarily know about themselves. For whatever reason, some children really need help with identifying what makes them stand out, what particular skills, talents and unique attributes help to define them.

Since then, I’ve really worked hard to ensure that I give children the language they need to talk about themselves – language that they can take with them throughout life to help them feel good about themselves, and to raise their self-esteem.

Here are some things you can do with your class:

  • Help children understand that they are made up of a complex mix of things, including how they look, their skills and talents, and their personality. Some of these change and some stay the same.
  • Pick a few different children each day. Talk to them in spare moments and find out what they like/dislike and are good at. Give them the language to praise themselves…

“Wow Molly, not everyone can remember to feed their dog every day/draw Pokemon so well/give someone space in the line without asking. That’s part of what makes you unique and special. Don’t forget to tell yourself that and feel proud.”

  • Actively teach children how to praise each other and how to accept compliments…

“I noticed that Tariq kept going when the maths was tough today/ was really careful when cutting out the pictures/ balanced that ball in PE really well. Who’d like to compliment Tariq? Did anyone notice anyone else they’d like to praise? Is anyone proud of themselves for something today?”

  • Hold a ‘Teach your Talent Day’, where children work in small groups sharing what they can do with each other. I’ve seen children teach each other magic tricks; demonstrate how to do a backbend, explain how to look after a dog and teach how to draw a cartoon dinosaur. Every child has a skill, they just sometimes need help realising it.

Also, don’t forget yourself. You are unique and special too. Every teacher has a different set of skills that help them be great at their job and none of us are the same. Instead of comparing yourself to the person in the next room and convincing yourself they’re better, look for the things you’re good at. Look for those little achievements throughout the day. There is no one way to be a great teacher – you are great just as you are. 

If you’d like to do some work on this with your class, our FREE Back to School: Identity Pack gives you lesson plans and resources to help children develop a sense of their own unique identity and feel good about themselves. Download it here.


What does it mean to our families when we support bilingual literacy?

Emma Sheppard portrait

Written by Emma Sheppard

Emma founded The MTPT Project, the UK's charity for parent teachers, in 2016 when on maternity leave with her first child. She has 12 years experience as an English teacher, Lead Practitioner and ITT Lead, and now runs The MTPT Project full time.

This is a vulnerable blog to share publicly.  If you follow me on LinkedIn, it will reveal the hard work and heartache behind the upbeat and practical strategies around bilingual education that I often share.  

Of course, we save our shiniest achievements for social media platforms but over the last few weeks – in the real world – I have felt keenly, the crushing failures of being “immigrant mum”. 

For context, I am an educated middle-class British former teacher living in France with my bilingual children and French husband.  My children were born in the UK, have been fully bilingual since birth, and now attend French state primary school.  I’m a fluent French speaker (and have a state-issued certificate to prove it) work in English and socialise in both languages.  

Sounds dreamy, right?

But sometimes, I feel as if I am losing my children – that they are so culturally embedded in the country we live in, that they have no connection to the identity of their birth country.  My identity.

This fortnight, we have been learning about Advent in our home-learning English lessons.  They don’t go to school on Wednesdays, you see, because it’s France.

My son, who had a year of lockdown education, is au fait with the characters.  He was, after all, the donkey in his Reception nativity and plodded along to Bethlehem with Mary and Joseph.  He best friend Gabriel was… the angel Gabriel.

My daughter, who has been educated in the secular French system since pre-school, has a vague understanding of the baby, called Jesus.  The star?  Joseph?  Virgin birth?  Heavenly hosts?  Gold, frankincense and myrhh?  Even the word ‘shepherd’ in English?  All these cultural indicators so essential to the British primary education experience?  Not a clue.

It gets worse: for the last three years, we’ve attended the carol service run by the local American church.  I alone in my family know the words to Silent Night.  My husband and children are ignorant to the joy of “Glororororororia” or “Fivvvvee go’old ringggsss!” and as such, they can’t sit through a full service.  I hissingly insisted my husband remove them (and himself) somewhere between Royal David’s City and Angels in the Realm of Glory and – French and relieved – they went to eat waffles and ride fairground rollercoasters in le marché de noël.

Extended writing – the lovely recipes and stories and letters you’d expect in lower KS3 – simply aren’t required of my children yet in the French state system.  Admittedly, their grammatical knowledge is fast surpassing my own, but mostly they are asked to copy, or write short responses to comprehension activities.

They have never been asked to be a Victorian maid or a to persuade anyone to save the rainforest.  They have not written a diary entry from a ship in the middle of the Atlantic, or a newspaper article about a volcanic eruption.  Maybe creativity, generally, will never be required of them?  

The request to write the Nativity story therefore resulted in meltdowns on all fronts: my son can’t bear the idea of more than two sentences and disappears into the ether of his daydreams; my daughter can’t remember how to spell ‘all’, even though it’s been on her spelling list for millennia.

My children are spectacular: there is no need to qualify this with any reasons why.  They just are.

But they are not British, and they have no other encouragement to be British than me, their mother.  Ensuring they retain a sense of this identity has become a base urge in me.  They will know who Shakespeare is.  They will eat jacket potatoes.  They will understand the culture importance of a Harvest Festival.  Failure simply isn’t an option.

But a lot of the time I feel like a lone salmon, swimming against the current.  And increasingly, I’m experiencing the anticipatory grief of becoming the mother of two French children.

For the first-generation immigrant parents in our school communities, how keenly is this loss also felt?

Do they, too, look at their children and see huge holes where a shared identity should be?  

And as schools, what can we do to support families who might be going through similar experiences?  

(Here come those upbeat, practical strategies…)

  • Understand, appreciate and acknowledge (if you can) the cultures of your school communities – including the educational cultures
  • Value and encourage the use of the home language – never fall into the trap of thinking that one language leads to an inability to acquire another because the opposite is true – languages feed off one another and grow together
  • Value languages, and teach them well – from the earliest possible age
  • Create bilingual streams if appropriate for your school context
  • Introduce Community Language GCSEs and A Levels as far as your timetabling or extra-curricular offer can support – and involve parents in their children’s preparation for these exams
  • Research community language hubs and signpost these to parents if you don’t have the capacity to ‘in house’
  • Align language with culture – food, traditions, literature, film, history, sports – and take opportunities to celebrate these
  • Foster opportunities where parents can make connections and build their own language communities

As cultural diversity in our schools increases, assumptions of monolingualism in our curricula and communities will only become a hindrance.  Celebration and practical support for families aspiring to full bi- or multilingualism will bring out the best in our students and support the full complexity of their identities.


The theme behind my Children’s book – Zeb, Jet and the Ice-Cream Calamity.

Mirabel Lavelle portrait

Written by Mirabel Lavelle

Mirabel is a qualified Teaching and Learning Coach, Creative Writing Lecturer, Allergy Awareness Advocate and Author of: Zeb, Jet and the Ice-Cream Calamity. An adventure story aimed at raising food allergy safety awareness. She is also the founder of: writebymirabel.co.uk – Crafting stories: where every voice counts and allergies matter. a website dedicated to the art of crafting stories, especially those that help raise awareness to disability, equity and inclusion.

I am a teacher and grandmother who loves stories. Two of my grandchildren carry auto-injector pens because of food allergies. One day, the older of the two asked me if I would write a story book about allergy. Hence, Jet, Zeb and the Ice-Cream Calamity.

I want to encourage the reader to learn about allergy, to become actively aware of how to safeguard and to include children with food allergies at social events such as Easter egg hunts, trick or treating, and parties without the fear of reaction to food – or worse still – anaphylaxis. I would like the reader to ask:

 ‘How can we plan a party that children with food allergies can safely enjoy?’ 

Allergic disease is a disease of the immune system, and it is the fastest growing disease among children in the UK. This condition impairs the sufferer on a day-to-day basis, in many different ways.

Sufferers cannot eat the same food as everyone else unless it has been prepared especially. This has substantial implications. For example, in school during lunchtimes a child may be asked to sit at a separate table because of their food allergies. Outside of school a child may be excluded from social events that centre around food because of a nervous adult. 

The culture this creates is that if a child is different in any way, for example by having a dietary requirement, then society will exclude them. New studies are showing certain children, who have experienced anaphylaxis, to display allergy related anxieties and behaviours that are similar to PTSD.

This is why I want to raise food allergy safety awareness. I want to educate so that we can eradicate food cross contamination. This way we can significantly reduce allergy anxiety and promote inclusion at all times.

My story book features a relatable fox cub (Zeb) and playful puppy (Jet) as characters, rather than humans, because of the subject matter. Jet has a food allergy and when Zeb meets Jet, he learns how to be allergy safe aware. This  exciting adventure encourages children to want to help Jet by telling others about how to keep him safe. It is an adventure that celebrates diversity, equity and inclusion.

I reinforced my message by creating a joyous song. The chorus shows how to significantly minimise food cross contamination. Children love music, the catchy chorus carries the central and crucial message of the book.

This book invites children to learn about allergy safeguarding by finding out about simple yet responsible behaviour around allergic kids. One example is not to leave wrappers, which may contain allergens, lying around but to bin them responsibly. My message to the reader is about building a society of caring individuals so that no one has to get sick because of the carelessness of others.

I added differentiated tasks to encourage readers to ask more questions about allergy. I want children to have fun whilst they learn. After all, it is through stories and through education and by putting ourselves in someone else’s shoes that we become more understanding of others. 

Going into schools to deliver allergy safety events is a very rewarding experience for me because of the positive response from children and staff. They are providing me with a wealth of exciting ideas on how to continue taking my campaign of safe allergy inclusion, forward. 

When I first wrote the book, I wanted it to be a key educational resource as well as an entertaining adventure. I aimed to provide schools and communities a point of reference that raises awareness and encourages people to want to know more about allergies and their impact. I needed to ensure that allergy sufferers are included in all activities that everyone their age enjoys. Since taking the book and the presentation into schools and libraries, it continues to inspire a range of immersive activities such as art projects, drama, puppet shows and animation. 

This book highlights equity and the tasks that follow the story are focussed on finding ways that are fair and inclusive for Jet. The story affords time to explore feelings, such as Zeb’s feelings after Jet got sick. It creates an opportunity for discussion, for thinking, for empathising, and for bringing about positive change.

Useful Links:

The Natasha Allergy Research Foundation (narf.org.uk)

The Benedict Blythe Foundation Allergy & Education Foundation | Benedict Blythe Foundation

The Sadie Bristow Foundation: Don’t Be Afraid to Be Great

 


Don’t Assume…

Gerlinde Achenbach portrait

Written by Gerlinde Achenbach

Gerlinde Achenbach is a senior education consultant and former primary headteacher. Her career spans more than 35 years, with over 30 years teaching in schools. Since 2021 she has been supporting schools across the UK with Equity, Diversity & Inclusion, specifically LGBTQ+ inclusion. Her expertise is in leadership and changing school culture.

It is a reality that every LGBTQ+ stakeholder within a school community – child or young person, member of staff, visitor, parent or carer – is on the receiving end of constant heteronormative messaging. This isn’t because schools are not complying with their Public Sector Equality Duty or because they’re not focused on being inclusive. It’s because the world is set up to portray ‘usual’ as heterosexual. 

The Oxford languages dictionary defines heteronormativity as: “denoting or relating to a world view that promotes heterosexuality as the normal or preferred sexual orientation.” 

Heteronormativity permeates every aspect of school life. It’s in the images on our walls, it’s in the things we say and in what we do. Put simply, there’s an unspoken acceptance that it is ‘the norm’. It confirms for us that heterosexual relationships dominate the human experience. It also reminds us of the relationship between heterosexuality and gender inequity for women and girls through history. We see this every day, where gendered language, stereotyping and imbalanced expectations still dominate our lived experience in the wider world. We like to think we work hard to challenge this in our schools…but are we doing enough?

What can heteronormativity look like in schools?

Environments

  • Most images of families show mums and dads. This can be on ‘welcome’ posters or in books and images on display. 
  • We find ‘corporate’ cartoon images depicting (stereotypical) boy, girl, boy, girl across school spaces. 
  • Books and literature have not been evaluated in terms of how representative they are of different types of families or identities.

Systems and Policies

  • In primary schools we have a habit of assuming (unless told otherwise) that a child has heterosexual parent(s) and that our children will end up in heterosexual relationships.
  • We include ‘mother / father’ on application forms and permission slips.
  • The words ‘Mr & Mrs’ are on the tips of our tongues when referring to families. 
  • Our school uniform policies state gendered expectations for girls and boys, even down to shoe styles. 
  • Our staff dress code does the same. 
  • We appoint a Head Girl and a Head Boy.
  • Our website staff lists denote marital status first – Mrs, Miss, Mr – and we have the same on classroom doors.

Communication and Language

  • We welcome our children with “Good morning, boys and girls” and our staff, or parents and carers, with “ladies and gentlemen”. 
  • The phrase, “Tell / give this to / show / ask your mum and dad” rolls off the tongue  for most school staff. 
  • Staff address girls as ‘darling’, ‘princess’, ‘sweetie’, and boys as ‘mate’, ‘mister’, ‘dude’. 
  • We hear the terms ‘Headmaster’ and ‘Headmistress’. We address staff as ‘Sir’ and ‘Miss’.
  • We hear adults calling for ‘a couple of strong boys’ for certain tasks around school.

Practice and Culture

  • We line up our classes in boys’ and girls’ lines, or in a boy, girl formation. 
  • We seat them on their carpet ladybird places or at tables in the same way. 
  • We separate and organise children by gender for the most random of reasons and activities.
  • We organise role play, construction and crafts with different genders in mind, albeit subconsciously.
  • We appoint class names of famous scientists, authors, sports people or musicians where the majority are male (and straight).
  • The staff culture feels fixed, exclusive, cliquey and difficult to break into.
  • Staff congratulate themselves on the way they have always done things. 

I have deliberately not set out here inclusive versions of the above examples. They are a starting point for whole staff thinking and they’re guaranteed to promote worthwhile discussion. It’s important in our schools to do the hard work required, challenge heteronormativity in all its guises and ask the following questions:

  • Might a child with same-sex parents feel quietly excluded in our school?  
  • Will their parents feel welcome?
  • How about a child who has lost a parent, or a child who is care-experienced? 
  • Have we removed assumptions in all our interactions with families?
  • Can a member of staff, whatever their sexual orientation or identity, can be their authentic self at work?
  • Are our language and expectations truly gender-inclusive?
  • Is our inclusive approach understood by all groups of staff in their varying roles across school?

Why does this matter? It matters because of the need for us all to feel we belong in the places where we, or our loved ones, spend a good deal of time. Marian Wright Edelman coined the phrase, ‘You can’t be what you can’t see’, and this matters if you rarely see yourself (child or adult) or your family represented in your school. Representation is validation.

It matters because subliminal messages such as those received (through unthinking words, gendered phrases and activities defined by gender) by girls and women, or by those for whom gender is not fixed or for whom gender causes anguish, can be damaging and self-fulfilling over time.


Be where you are embraced, not celebrated: exploring use of language when developing an equality ethos

Andrew Moffat portrait

Written by Andrew Moffat

Andrew Moffat has been teaching for 25 years and is currently PD Lead at Excelsior MAT. He is the author of “No Outsiders in our school: Teaching the Equality Act in Primary Schools” and “No Outsiders: everyone different, everyone welcome”. In 2017 Andrew was awarded a MBE for services to equality and diversity in education and in 2019 he was listed as a top ten finalist in the Varkey Foundation Global Teacher Prize.

Can we talk about the word celebrate?

I am a big supporter of Diverse Educators, but the use of the word celebrate in the tag line I think is not needed, in fact I believe it could be detrimental to our aims. “Be where you are celebrated…” Really? Do I need to be celebrated? For what? Being male, being gay, wearing glasses? Really?

Diverse Educators are not alone using this word; I used it in the past. My first resource on teaching LGBT equality in 2006, “Challenging homophobia in Primary Schools” (published by Coventry City Council in 2007 and by Birmingham City Council in 2010) states in the introduction, “Every child benefits from an ethos of mutual respect and a celebration of who they are.” (p2) and later, “Children need to understand that the world is full of different people who like different things and we should celebrate that fact with them.”(p5)

In my first properly published book, “No Outsiders: Teaching the Equality Act in primary schools” (2015) I state, “We have to be delivering a curriculum where diversity and difference are celebrated.”

But by 2020 I had changed my mind. I was trying to step away from the use of the word celebrate trying to find alternative words. Why? Because I was facing significant challenges to my equality work from a religious perspective, and I had to find a way to bring people on board. 

Let me explain…

2019 was a very difficult year. RSE ruined my life! Everything was going fine until new RSE guidance from the DfE suddenly put LGBT+ education into the spotlight. Despite my school successfully running No Outsiders for four years previously to 2019, suddenly there were huge protests outside my school against it. “Stop sexualising children!” “My child, my choice!” “Stop indoctrination now!” “Stop No Outsiders,” read the placards. The protests lasted for 6 months and then fizzled out. Today, that school runs No Outsiders successfully and it’s like the protests never happened. A 2022 Ofsted report for the school opens with the line, “Children say there are no outsiders here and that everyone is welcome.” 

During the protests, I received a letter from Mike Smith, a vicar from Cheshire who was also a chair of governors at a primary school. Mike was writing to express support but in the letter, he also mentioned the language I was using. Mike pointed out that I was asking schools to celebrate diversity and that meant in turn, asking schools to celebrate LGBT equality. As a Christian, Mike argued, he could not ‘celebrate’ LGBT people as he believes marriage is fundamentally between a man and woman. However, he could tolerate LGBT people; he wanted to be an ally. Mike asked me to consider using the word tolerate more, rather than celebrate.

Hmmm….

My initial reaction was absolutely not! I have never liked the word tolerate. Tolerate is word used when you are putting up with something; a buzzing noise, rain. I am not going to teach children to tolerate each other. It feels so wrong.

But I was in the middle of this mess at the time. People shouting at me from all sides. And maybe stopping and listening is the best policy. So, I got in contact with Mike and we talked. Mike was brilliant. He really shifted my thinking on this as we came together from two very different places and tried to find a way through.

Mike asked me, “Do you need to celebrate to feel accepted?” It’s a good question. I’ve worked in schools for nearly 30 years, and we’ve always blithely said, “We celebrate diversity,” whatever school I’ve been in. But let’s just step back for a moment and ask what that looks like. How do you stop that being tokenistic? ‘Ooh it’s pride month – get the rainbow flags out!’ 

The other problem here is that we don’t live in that rose tinted world. Homophobia exists, racism exists, misogyny exists. There are some people in our communities who simply do not wish to celebrate Pride month or celebrate gay people existing, and they should not be forced to. As an adult, you are not forced to join a pride parade; you cannot stop it happening and there are laws that protect the existence of LGBT people, but you do not have to celebrate that. You just need to accept it happens. 

Should schools be celebrating LGBT+ people? If we are truly preparing children for life in modern Britain, shouldn’t we instead be teaching children that Pride exists, asking why it exists and recognising that some people join pride parades as a means of protest, some as a means of celebration, and some people don’t agree with it. Children should form their own opinions. As long as a child is not othering someone, judging and saying they are wrong for being who they are, I think it’s ok for a child to choose not to celebrate pride. Pride exists and will be celebrated whether that child joins in or not. You could argue a debate about Pride where children are encouraged to disagree, only strengthens the arguments for Pride existing! 

There was a perception at the school where we had protests that we were forcing children of faith to celebrate LGBT equality. I don’t think we were doing that, but perception among parents is everything in schools, isn’t it. After conversations with Mike, together we came up with an alternative word to celebrate which was “accept”. At my school we spoke to parents about removing the word celebrate and we changed displays from “We celebrate diversity” to “We are diverse” or “We accept each other’s differences”. I really tried to show that I was listening and changing my language and the parents appreciated my efforts. I wrote a chapter in the second No Outsiders book “All different, all welcome” (2020) called “Tolerate, celebrate, accept” where I explained what I was trying to do. Lots of schools, particularly where there was a large faith cohort, told me they liked this strategy.

But I was never happy with the word “Accept”. I was constantly searching for an alternative word and then it came – “Embrace”. I think “We embrace diversity” is fantastic. You can embrace something without necessarily agreeing with it. You don’t have to celebrate it. 

So, since 2021, embrace is the word I have been using. In my own school hall we have a great display (see below) with the words “We are different – we belong here” which is perfect. I think celebrating can be triggering for some people, particularly when talking about LGBTQ+ and faith, so I have simply removed it.

I always discuss this in my training, and I always say, “Of course, I may be wrong about this!” I have been wrong in the past and maybe I’m wrong here, I think it’s certainly worth a discussion and I may change my mind in future. I also want to make clear that I absolutely celebrate Pride every year myself. I have been to three Prides this year and I love them. I love being gay and I’m very proud to be gay and to be out to people. But I don’t need you to celebrate me. I do want you to accept me without judgement, but I don’t need a clap! 

Find out more about No Outsiders: www.no-outsiders.com

Find our new No Outsiders scheme of work for 2024 “No Outsiders: We belong here” by Andrew Moffat (Speechmark, 2024)

Watch the film of Mike Smith talking about our conversations and language https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1PeUmCprYfo&t=2s


Talking Race and Racism with Children - when do we start?

Omena Osivwemu portrait

Written by Omena Osivwemu

Former Primary Teacher, Humanities Lead, Researcher. Author of 'Decolonising the Curriculum: A Comparative Case-Study of Black Learner and Educator Perspectives and Experience in London and Johannesburg' in The BERA Guide to Decolonising the Curriculum.

This question has played on my mind for a while; at a conference of educators reckoning with race, a Black senior leader who is also a parent asked “when is the right time to talk to my children about race?” This stuck with me and the academic on the panel looked to me, as an experienced Primary School teacher to respond.  

Given my lived experience growing up Black in Northern England, training and teaching across the North and the Midlands, the answer seemed obvious to me. 

In short- right away! As soon as children are absorbing language, learning values and copying behaviours. 

As soon as we teach toddlers what is a boy and what is a girl, that is the social construction of gender- even if you opt for a more gender-neutral or fluid approach- that is still teaching them difference. When we teach children to share; be kind; tell the truth etc., all values we deem to be ‘right’, we should also be teaching them that sometimes not everyone will be kind, share or tell the truth. At times this can be due to our differences. But difference is a wonderful, necessary part of life! 

Of course, discussions should be age-appropriate in language children understand and use. ‘Sulwe’ by Lupito Nyong’o is a beautiful book, aimed at young children and explores themes of ‘race’ and colourism. Now, there is a wonderful array of diverse books available for all ages! As children get older, we can then build on their racial literacy, empowering them to make some sense of the social construction that is ‘race’. For adults, I would recommend ‘How to raise an anti-racist’ by Ibram X. Kendi as a great place to start. 

As soon as we read traditional tales to children, let them watch YouTube, TV or films, we are passing on messages about society, how people interact and what is deemed ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. When children can describe something as red, green, blue, black and white; they can and will use this language to describe differences between people. It may not be ‘accurate’ to the adult lens, for instance as a young child in a Black, mixed family, I would draw my father’s dark brown skin as purple and my mother’s very fair brown skin as pink. 

One of my earliest memories as a 4 year old (contextualised by my mother’s memory) at a mostly White Nursery, was feeling different. Too brown, with hair that was too dark and curly, and eyes that were too dark, compared to the teachers, other children and most importantly the blonde, blue-eyed dolls which I adored! Then, when the teachers with good intentions, changed the play to ‘Curlilocks’ so that I could play the character Goldilocks, I knew I wasn’t ‘right’- I didn’t fit. If Black and brown children aren’t too young to experience or witness racialisation or racism, nobody else is too young to learn about ‘race’ and racism.  

Later on during undergrad’, volunteering in local primary schools in Northern Lancashire, as soon as I walked into classrooms, children as young as 4 would stare wide-eyed and mutter under their breath “she’s Black!”. Throughout my teaching career across England and Spain, most times I was the only Black teacher children had seen. The responses have varied from positive, such as expressing their love for my curly hair, inquisitive questions and collaborative cultural exchange. To the negative, for example young children avoiding touching my skin when I gave them something, or 6 year olds ignoring me as though they didn’t understand my English, because as one boy put it, I was “from Africa”.  

I recognise that in Black and brown majority spaces like London, experiences such as mine may be less common. However, if parents, the media, film, books etc. are socialising children as young as 3 and 4 to understand brown skin, or Blackness, or religious dress, or simply human difference such as accents, as ‘bad’ or negative, then we too should be equipping our children with the understanding that such a belief system (white supremacy) exists and continues to prevail- albeit gently. We should be uplifting Global Majority children to feel proud of their cultural and ethnic backgrounds, histories and identities. We should help children to contextualise what they are seeing and embolden them to have high self-esteem and confidence when facing barriers/ discrimination.

In the same way that we acknowledge teaching children ‘stranger danger’, online safety, how to respond to bullying, physical and mental wellbeing, and healthy relationships in order to protect them from harm and prepare them to safeguard themselves; we should also be empowering all children with the language and understanding to know when discrimination and racism are happening (unfairness / unkindness in children’s terms). In the same way that far-right rioters and sympathisers have taught their children, as we saw this summer, to attack, abuse and harass Black, brown, migrant, Muslim peoples; we too should be teaching our children from early why it is happening and how they can respond. 


Inclusion Love Languages

Caroline Anukem portrait

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.

Forget Acts of Service: The Love Languages Revolutionising Inclusion

Tired of the same old diversity and inclusion (EDI) initiatives that fall flat? It is time to do away with the generic and delve into a framework that speaks to the heart of belonging: Inclusion Love Languages.

Imagine this: You walk into a conference feeling a pit in your stomach. The name tags are impersonal, the panels lack diverse voices, and you struggle to find someone who “gets” your background. This is the opposite of inclusion. Now, picture a different scenario. You are greeted warmly with your preferred pronoun, the agenda reflects a range of perspectives, and breakout sessions offer opportunities for collaboration across differences. This – this – is inclusion in action.

Beyond Tolerance: A Celebration of YOU

Inclusion should not be about simply tolerating differences. It is about actively celebrating them.  The “Love Languages” model, popularised by Gary Chapman, categorises how individuals receive and express love.   I propose adapting this framework to inclusion, recognising that everyone has preferred ways of feeling valued and respected in a space.

What are YOUR Inclusion Love Languages?

Just like some crave words of affirmation from a partner, others might feel most included through mentorship opportunities or invitations to social gatherings.  Think about your own preferences. Do you thrive in environments with clear expectations and open communication (Acts of Service)? Or do you feel most valued when your unique perspective is acknowledged and celebrated (Words of Affirmation)?

Understanding your own inclusion love language is just the first step. Now consider how you can identify and address the preferences of others.  Perhaps a colleague or a fellow student feels most included through casual check-ins (Quality Time), while another appreciates being included in focus groups (Gifts – offering opportunities for contribution).

From Feel-Good to Functioning: The Power of Inclusion

True inclusion is not just about creating a warm and fuzzy atmosphere. It creates a sense of psychological safety, where individuals feel comfortable taking risks, sharing ideas freely, and being their authentic selves. This, in turn, unlocks a treasure trove of benefits:

  • Innovation Unleashed: Diverse perspectives combined with psychological safety create a breeding ground for ground-breaking ideas.
  • Engagement on Fire: Feeling valued motivates people to bring their best selves to work, leading to increased productivity and engagement.
  • Collaboration Takes Flight: A sense of belonging improves teamwork and inevitably reduces conflict, thus creating a more positive and collaborative environment.

Speaking Your Inclusion Love Language: Building a Thriving environment 

By understanding the “inclusion love languages,” we can move beyond a one-size-fits-all approach.  This reframing equips us with practical tools to cultivate a culture of belonging, the foundation for a truly thriving and equitable working or learning environment.


Pride Month 2024 - Responding to homophobic language: guidance for schools using Oracy and No Outsiders

Andrew Moffat portrait

Written by Andrew Moffat

Andrew Moffat has been teaching for 25 years and is currently PD Lead at Excelsior MAT. He is the author of “No Outsiders in our school: Teaching the Equality Act in Primary Schools” and “No Outsiders: everyone different, everyone welcome”. In 2017 Andrew was awarded a MBE for services to equality and diversity in education and in 2019 he was listed as a top ten finalist in the Varkey Foundation Global Teacher Prize.

Ensuring equality for all cannot be achieved if any group of people feel they are unseen, unwelcome or feel targeted because of the person they are. As teachers, we strive to ensure that everyone feels seen, everyone feels welcome, and no one feels they have to hide their true selves, or parts of their identity. 

In preparing children for life in modern Britain, we need to be clear and consistent in our efforts to make schools a safe place where children understand there are different ideas in society and prejudice may exist in the outside world, but prejudice and discrimination do not exist here, because in our school, there are “No Outsiders” and everyone is welcome.

Children are allowed to hold different views. I am a big champion of oracy as it encourages children to see both sides of a debate and understand it is possible to hold two views at one time. However, while different views are embraced, the othering of a group of people is not allowed. A child can disagree with a point of view and still show respect; this is the golden thread of a no outsiders ethos. 

If a child chooses to use homophobic language, this must be tackled immediately. Children must understand there is no tolerance of prejudice at our school. It is the job of any adult to respond to homophobic language, as this is a safeguarding issue (KCSIE, 2023, “Children who are LGBT” page 51),

A quick response is; “Excuse me?” or, “What do you mean by that?” followed by, “And what do we say at our school?” to which the expected reply is “There are no outsiders”. Reiterate, “That’s right, there are no outsiders here, so you need to think about the language you are using. How are you going to put that right?”

All homophobic incidents should be recorded, and parents informed.

If homophobia arises in a debate where no individual is being targeted but there are attitudes forthcoming that need to be addressed, make sure they don’t go unchecked. An oracy framework enables us to challenge such attitudes effectively by asking the class to respond; “Would anyone like to respond to that?”. If the comment is offensive, for example if a child says, “gay people are wrong” it’s important that the adult responds immediately along the lines of; 

“Can we think about the language we are using here… those ideas may exist in the outside world, but we need to be really careful about the words we use here. To say something is ‘wrong’ is different to saying, you ‘don’t agree’ with it. Do you want to re-phrase so that you are not othering anyone or being offensive?”

“What does the law say about this?” (The Equality Act, British law says it’s ok to be LGBT)

“What do we say at our school about different people?” (We say there are no outsiders, and everyone is welcome here.)

It’s vitally important the teacher addresses the attitudes while not giving their own opinion so we don’t get in to an argument or lead the children down any particular path. What we need to do instead is remind children it is ok to hold different views (“and that’s what makes this debate so interesting”) and we can still show respect and non-judgement. It’s ok to disagree with one another, the important thing is that everyone still feels they have a place here, including the child who is being offensive. It is the child’s views that are not welcome; the child is still welcome.

If a child brings their faith into the discussion; “My religion says it’s wrong”, respond in this way:

“You’re right, there are different views about this in different religions. And that’s the best thing about living in the UK- we have different views and beliefs, freedom of speech and democracy, and we have the Equality Act which protects religion and belief, so people are allowed to hold those views under British law. Who else is protected under the Equality Act? (disability, age, race, pregnancy and maternity, marriage and civil partnership, sex, LGBT) hmmm that’s interesting isn’t it – on the one hand you have religion and belief and on the other you have LGBT … both protected, both allowed… so I suppose we have to find a way to respect both views. We can co -exist without saying the other is wrong….”

And then open out the conversation, move it along using the oracy technique; “Who wants to build on that?”

Keep coming back to “That’s why we say there are no outsiders… we can have different opinions, and we can still respect each other. No one is pushed out because of their religion, their race, or because of their sexual orientation.”

I recognise that these conversations are not easy but they are important and we need to be having them with our children. My advice is to practice responses with each other as a staff team. 

Here are some useful assembly links from  www.no-outsiders.com:

https://no-outsiders-assembly.blogspot.com/2024/05/pride-2024.html

Assembly pictures : Football shirt (no-outsiders-assembly.blogspot.com)

Assembly pictures : football (no-outsiders-assembly.blogspot.com)

Assembly pictures : Bathroom (no-outsiders-assembly.blogspot.com)

Assembly pictures : Beano (no-outsiders-assembly.blogspot.com)

Assembly pictures : LGBT history month (no-outsiders-assembly.blogspot.com)

Assembly pictures : What is homophobia? (no-outsiders-assembly.blogspot.com)

Assembly pictures : Curly hair (no-outsiders-assembly.blogspot.com)

https://no-outsiders-assembly.blogspot.com/2024/06/veteran.html