A Crisis of Inclusion

We're living through what I can only describe as a crisis of inclusion. It's playing out in every staffroom, SENDCo office, and governing body meeting across England. On one side, we have accusations of being "over-woke" (and I'm acutely aware of how politically weaponised that term has become). On the other, we see complete dismissal of genuine need with phrases like "everyone has ADHD these days." Meanwhile, parents oscillate between "I'm suing the LEA for not providing services" and others insisting their child "doesn’t need a label of dyslexia.”

As Chair of Governors at a primary school in the north of England, I witness this crisis daily. Our SENDCo juggles impossible caseloads with limited time alongside her teaching commitments, our teachers feel unprepared for the complexity and volume of need they face, and our local authority simply doesn't have enough specialists to meet demand. The latest government data shows that 18.4% of children in England now have some form of special educational need - up from 17.3% in 2023. That's over 100,000 additional children identified in just over a year.

But this isn't actually about numbers. It's about a fundamental misunderstanding of what inclusion means, how it works, and why we're getting it so spectacularly wrong.

The Perfect Storm: Why Now? 

The statistics tell a stark story. The number of pupils with an EHC plan has doubled since 2016, tipping over 500,000 in 2025. Meanwhile, pupils with SEN support have increased by 29.5% over the same period. To put this in perspective: whilst the total pupil population grew by just 5.5%, we're seeing exponential growth in identified need.

This perfect storm has several ingredients. First, there's genuine resource scarcity. Local authorities have been systematically starved of funding, leaving them unable to recruit sufficient educational psychologists, specialist teachers, or case workers. The Education Policy Institute's research shows that four in ten children are identified as SEND at some point between the ages of 5 and 16, yet the infrastructure to support them has been decimated.

Second, we're experiencing what sociologist Stanley Cohen would recognise as a "moral panic" around neurodiversity. Social media has democratised diagnosis culture, creating awareness without necessarily fostering understanding. Parents scroll through TikTok videos about ADHD symptoms and suddenly recognise their child's behaviours. They're not wrong to be concerned, but the system isn't equipped for this tsunami of awareness. And this is exacerbated by an increased acceptance of self-diagnosis (however useful this may be to the individual).

“Calling something a 'moral panic' does not imply that this something does not exist or happened at all and that reaction is based on fantasy, hysteria, delusion and illusion or being duped by the powerful.” Stanley Cohen

Third, our legal framework has created an adversarial rather than collaborative environment. The Children and Families Act 2014 promised a more holistic approach through Education, Health and Care Plans. Instead, it's created a postcode lottery where success depends on parental persistence and legal knowledge rather than genuine need. And the truth of this is that many schools and parents are spending time and money engaging with litigation experts to get provision that their children deserve and desperately need, which means the local authorities are spending time defending themselves in a legal setting - it is an even bigger drain.

Finally, there's what psychologist Daniel Kahneman would call availability bias in action. High-profile cases of successful legal challenges create a perception that confrontation is the only path to provision. This breeds distrust between families and schools, poisoning relationships that should be collaborative.

The Stakeholder Casualties 

In this crisis, everyone loses. Children with genuine needs find themselves caught in bureaucratic battles whilst their educational opportunities slip away. I've watched pupils spend months awaiting assessments that could have been completed weeks earlier if we'd had the specialists available.

Our SENDCos are drowning. They're expected to be educational psychologists, speech therapists, occupational therapists, and legal advocates simultaneously. They're brilliant professionals being asked to perform miracles with diminishing resources. The psychological concept of "learned helplessness," first identified by Martin Seligman, is playing out in staffrooms across England as dedicated professionals watch their efforts repeatedly frustrated by systemic failures.

“All over the place, from the popular culture to the propaganda system, there is constant pressure to make people feel that they are helpless, that the only role they can have is to ratify decisions and to consume.” Noam Chomsky

Classroom teachers feel increasingly unprepared. Teacher training still treats SEND as an add-on rather than core practice. Despite more and more UK teachers now using AI tools in their work, few understand how these technologies could transform SEND provision. They're brilliant at differentiation but lack the specialist knowledge to support the complexity they're seeing.

Parents find themselves navigating an incomprehensible system whilst watching their children struggle. Some become reluctant advocates, others reluctant adversaries. The emotional toll is immense, creating what attachment theorist John Bowlby would recognise as secondary trauma - parents developing anxiety disorders as they fight for their children's needs.

School leaders like the ones I support are caught between legal obligations and practical limitations. We want to do right by every child, but we're operating within systems designed for a different era. The cognitive dissonance between our values and our capabilities creates psychological stress that affects decision-making quality.

The Philosophical Foundations We've Forgotten 

At the heart of this crisis lies a fundamental confusion about what inclusion actually means. We've somehow conflated inclusion with integration, accommodation with transformation, and equity with equality.

True inclusion, as disability rights advocates have long argued, isn't about fitting children into existing systems. It's about designing systems that work for everyone from the outset. This concept, known as Universal Design for Learning (UDL), suggests that what's good for SEND learners is often good for all learners.

The medical model versus social model divide continues to shape our responses in unhelpful ways. The medical model focuses on fixing the child to fit the system. The social model recognises that barriers exist in the environment, not the individual. As research from the Special Olympics demonstrates, 64% of educators and 77% of parents of students with intellectual and developmental disabilities view AI as potentially powerful for promoting inclusive learning.

We've also lost sight of the difference between equality and equity. Equality means giving everyone the same thing. Equity means giving everyone what they need to succeed. This isn't a radical concept - it's basic justice. Yet our systems often default to one-size-fits-all approaches that serve no one well.

The principle of least restrictive environment has been misunderstood and misapplied. It doesn't mean every child must be in mainstream classes regardless of need. It means every child should be in the environment where they can best learn and develop, with appropriate support. Sometimes that's mainstream with adjustments, sometimes it's specialist provision.

The Psychology Behind the Crisis 

Several psychological phenomena are driving this crisis. Confirmation bias leads polarised camps to cherry-pick evidence supporting their positions whilst ignoring contradictory data. Parents desperately seeking explanations for their children's struggles may see ADHD characteristics everywhere. Conversely, those dismissive of neurodiversity may discount clear signs of need.

System justification theory, developed by John Jost, explains why people defend flawed systems even when those systems disadvantage them. Teachers and leaders may resist acknowledging system failures because it threatens their professional identity. Parents may blame themselves rather than inadequate provision because it feels more controllable.

The scarcity mindset creates zero-sum thinking where supporting one child means disadvantaging another. This breeds resentment and competition rather than collaboration. It's particularly toxic in schools where budgets are already stretched. And this is the furthest extreme created by the performative measures established by league tables under John Major’s leadership (and started under Margaret Thatcher really).

What Real Inclusion Looks Like 

Real inclusion isn't about heroic individual efforts or inspirational stories. It's about boring, systematic, evidence-based practice that becomes embedded in organisational culture.

Finland provides an instructive example (even if their model isn’t a paragon to replicate in every country any more than a one-size-fits-all curriculum should be in every classroom). Their approach focuses on early identification and immediate support rather than formal diagnosis and crisis intervention. Students there don't need a diagnosis to receive SEND support, removing bureaucratic barriers whilst maintaining appropriate oversight.

In New Zealand, their inclusive education strategy recognises that "there is a statutory requirement on schools to create, maintain and review personal learning plans" for pupils with additional needs. But they've avoided the adversarial culture that has developed in England by focusing on collaboration rather than compliance.

Estonia has pioneered AI-assisted personalised learning that adapts in real-time to student needs. AI algorithms can analyse individual student performance and adapt lesson plans accordingly, whether a student has dyslexia, autism, ADHD, or any other learning difference.

Closer to home, some English schools are leading the way. They've moved beyond bolt-on SEND support to Universal Design for Learning principles. Every lesson is planned with multiple means of representation, engagement, and expression. Technology isn't an afterthought but integral to learning design.

These schools understand that reasonable adjustments aren't special favours but basic accessibility requirements. They wouldn't design a building without ramps and then call wheelchair lifts "special provision." Yet we routinely design curricula without considering diverse learning needs and then wonder why so many children struggle.

The Path Forward

The crisis demands both immediate intervention and long-term transformation. We can't wait for perfect solutions whilst children's needs go unmet.

System-Level Changes

We need urgent investment in specialist capacity. With around 1.7 million school pupils identified with SEND, our current workforce is woefully inadequate. But we also need to think differently about roles. Instead of rare, expensive educational psychologists conducting individual assessments, we need teams of well-trained professionals delivering population-level support.

Early intervention must become the norm, not the exception. Machine learning algorithms can analyse patterns in student performance and behaviour, flagging potential issues for further assessment. This isn't about labelling children but about providing timely support before struggles become entrenched.

The AI Revolution

Here's where things get interesting. The Department for Education is already investing in AI tools for teachers, including Oak National Academy's Aila, an AI-powered lesson assistant (don’t get me started on that) and has recently announced some excellent AI toolkits. But we're barely scratching the surface of what's possible.

AI can democratise personalisation in ways previously impossible. Intelligent tutoring systems can provide each student with an educational approach tailored to their unique needs. Speech-to-text software, reading support tools, and adaptive learning platforms are already available on most school devices - we just need to use them systematically. My friends at Everway are certainly leading the way in providing tools to support authentic inclusion.

For SEND provision specifically, AI offers transformative possibilities. Social robots are being designed to capture and track individual student progress for specific tasks, allowing teachers and therapists to follow progress online and build personalised lessons. AI tools can be incorporated in a student's IEP as assistive technology, accommodations, or modifications.

Professional Development Shakeup

We need to revolutionise how we prepare and support education professionals. Every teacher should understand neurodiversity and other learning needs, not as an add-on but as core practice. The number of UK teachers using generative AI increased from 31% in 2023 to 47.7% in 2024, but we need systematic training, not ad-hoc adoption. SENDCos need proper recognition as specialist professionals with appropriate qualifications, time, and resources. The current model - where brilliant teachers are expected to become instant experts in complex needs - isn't sustainable.

And that is intrinsically linked to ongoing CPD for educators. We need pathways for staff to develop their skills, and not just around SEND either. Every educational professional should have a personalised development plan that they co-create with leaders. As a country, we need to invest in upskilling our teachers, not just training them during their PGCE but consistently throughout their careers. Oh, and not just a one-shot keynote presentation or a showpiece twilight training session to tick the boxes either.

Community Approaches

We also must break down the adversarial dynamic between families and schools. This requires recognising the full humanity and expertise that each party brings. Parents are experts on their children; teachers are experts on learning; professionals are experts on development. We need all perspectives. Peer support networks can reduce isolation whilst building capacity. When families support each other, they're less likely to view schools as enemies. When schools collaborate rather than compete, they share expertise and resources more effectively.

Ultimately, this crisis of inclusion reflects deeper questions about what we value as a society. Do we believe in meritocracy or justice? Conformity or diversity? Efficiency or humanity?

As I have mentioned before, Emmanuel Levinas argued that ethics begins with the face-to-face encounter with the Other - recognising their fundamental vulnerability and our responsibility to respond. Every child in our education system is that Other, deserving of recognition, respect, and appropriate support. This belief propels us to design systems without knowing our position within them. If we didn't know whether our child would be neurotypical or neurodivergent, academically gifted or struggling, what kind of education system would we create?

The disability rights movement has long argued that inclusion benefits everyone. Ramps help wheelchair users, but they also help people with pushchairs, suitcases, deliveries and walking aids. Similarly, inclusive education design helps SEND learners whilst improving learning for all. As my good friend Paddy would say,

“Necessary for some, useful for all.” Patrick McGrath

IEPs for All: A Radical Proposal

This brings me to a radical proposition: what if every child had an Individualised Education Plan? Not because they're failing or different, but because personalised learning should be the norm, not the exception.

Current IEPs are deficit-focused documents created in crisis. They typically describe a student's current academic abilities, functional skills, and areas of difficulty. But what if we flipped this model? What if every child had a learning profile that identified their strengths, interests, and optimal learning conditions?

Modern IEPs begin with a personalised assessment of the learner's strengths, challenges, learning style, and aspirations, identifying individualised goals aligned with the student's abilities. This approach, applied universally, would normalise differentiation whilst removing the stigma of ‘special’ provision. Surely, we all know that every child is special and has needs?

AI could make this scalable. Machine learning could analyse learning patterns, identify optimal teaching approaches, and suggest personalised pathways for every child. Students could use AI to create speeches for IEP meetings or school board meetings, personalising advocacy for their specific audience.

This isn't science fiction. Research shows that when schools use a planning approach that supports personalised learning, the academic achievement of all students improves. Universal IEPs would simply systematise what good teachers already do intuitively.

Beyond Crisis

This crisis of inclusion is simultaneously the greatest challenge and opportunity facing English education (alongside the integration of AI perhaps!). We can continue with our current trajectory - lurching between over-identification and dismissal, between legal battles and bureaucratic barriers. Or we can seize this moment to reimagine what education could be.

The technology exists. The UK government has announced AI in education investments, focusing on personalised learning and administrative support. The evidence base is clear about what works. The moral imperative is obvious. What we lack isn't knowledge but courage - the courage to admit our current systems are failing, the courage to try radical solutions, the courage to put children's needs before adult convenience.

As I sit in governing body meetings, watching dedicated professionals grapple with impossible choices, I'm reminded of Gramsci's observation: 

"The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born." Antonio Gramsci

We're in that liminal space, that crisis of inclusion where the old certainties no longer work but new possibilities remain unborn. The question isn't whether change will come - the statistics guarantee it. The question is whether we'll lead that change or be dragged along by it. Whether we'll design inclusive systems or continue retrofitting exclusionary ones. Whether we'll see this crisis as catastrophe or catalyst.

I believe we can do better. More than that, I believe we must do better. Because behind every statistic is a child whose future depends on our choices. And they deserve better than the false binaries and failed systems we've created.

Perhaps it's also time to abandon the phrase "SEND" altogether. The very language we use betrays our thinking. "Special Educational Needs and Disabilities" implies that some children are normal and others are not, that some needs are standard and others are exceptional. But what if we simply recognised that all children have educational needs? What if we acknowledged that human learning is naturally diverse, not deviant?

The word ‘special’ has become a euphemism that creates the very otherness it claims to celebrate. When we say a child has "special needs," we're really saying they don't fit our narrow definition of normal. But whose normal? And why should their learning differences be seen as deficits rather than variations?

If we truly embrace universal design and personalised learning for all, then every child's needs become simply ‘educational needs.’ The autistic child who needs sensory breaks, the dyslexic child who needs text-to-speech, the anxious child who needs movement breaks - these aren't special accommodations but basic accessibility requirements in a properly designed learning environment.

Language shapes reality. As long as we maintain the fiction that some children are ‘special’ and others are ‘normal,’ we'll continue to design systems for the mythical average and then wonder why so many children struggle. It's time to retire SEND and embrace what we've always known: every child is unique, every learner is individual, and every human deserves an education designed for them.

Key Takeaways

1. Reframe inclusion as universal design. Move from retrofitting support for SEND learners to designing systems that work for everyone from the outset. This isn't about lowering standards but about multiple pathways to achievement.
2. Embrace AI-powered personalisation. Leverage technology to make individualised learning scalable. Every child deserves a learning plan tailored to their strengths, interests, and optimal conditions.
3. Invest in early intervention over crisis management Use AI analytics to identify learning needs before they become entrenched problems. Prevention is more effective and cost-efficient than remediation.
4. Transform professional development. Make neurodiversity understanding core to all teacher training, not an optional add-on. Every educator should understand how brains learn differently.
5. Replace adversarial with collaborative relationships. Build systems that encourage partnership between families, schools, and professionals rather than creating winners and losers.
6. Scale successful practice systematically. Stop relying on heroic individual efforts and embed evidence-based inclusive practices in organisational culture and policy.

The only question left is: what are we waiting for?