I have been wobbly all my life. Doctors use other terms to describe me, but this is the word I prefer.
To my brother, however – the only person who’s known me their whole life – I’m normal. When he was at school, his friends used to ask him, “Why does your sister talk funny?” and he would respond, “What do you mean?”
I think that’s beautiful. If children grow up alongside difference from a young age, they accept it as a normal part of humanity.
That’s why my Martin Luther King dream would be that kids of all abilities be educated side by side, from day one. I know it’s not simple. Disability is complex, and we need to support people adequately. But there are so many positives about human difference that we don’t talk about enough.
Disability brings people closer together. My brother is my best friend because he’s toured the world with me because I couldn’t tour on my own.
Being wobbly made me happier because I had to question a lot of toxic ideals, such as unrealistic body image. Because I knew I could never achieve those superficial aspirations, I totally rejected them.
And everyone needs to reject them. Children who grow up with difference gain a broader perspective and a greater appreciation for what their bodies can do, which hopefully helps them to embrace themselves and question this culture of self-loathing.
But of course, you can’t just throw everyone together in school without any adaptations.
At my mainstream secondary school, the PE teacher would force me to stand on the basketball court with everyone else, even though it was physically impossible for me to play the game.
Inclusion isn’t about treating everyone the same; it’s about acknowledging difference and trying to make every child feel seen, heard and valued for what they have to offer.
When I chaired a panel at this year’s Festival of Education, I was saddened to hear some disabled students’ stories, which made me feel like little had changed since I was growing up.
So how can mainstream schools and colleges be more inclusive?
Listen to the children
Only they can tell you what they need to feel included. I can’t even tell you what works for others; I can only tell you what works for me as a wobbly woman!
Small changes can make a big difference
On the panel, Tyler said he would have appreciated a quiet space where he could go when he needed it during the day. That’s a tiny change that would have made a huge difference to him.
Big changes are needed too
We heard from Caitlin that she needed intensive support with reading and never got it. Schools need sufficient, well-trained staff to support pupils with learning needs.
Making schools and colleges accessible to wheelchair users like Ella and Amber can be costly, but this depends on the society the government wants to create. It’s no good telling schools to be more inclusive and not funding them to do so.
Inclusion is an approach
Amber told a lovely story about a teacher putting her in an office chair and wheeling her around so she could participate in an activity. This was a make-shift solution, but it allowed Amber to take part and made her feel included. Sometimes what matters most is a willingness to try.
We all need to be humble and open to learn what we don’t know. Educators have to learn by working with each student. Inclusion isn’t an end-state; it’s an ongoing process.
I haven’t suffered in my life because I’ve been disabled; I’ve suffered because the world hasn’t treated me as a fully complex human being. Love and support are what define you and give you confidence.
My wish for society is that we stop being so simplistic about how we define human beings and start to realise that who we are inside is more powerful than how our bodies work.
Schools and colleges can be the place where this profound change begins.
Listen to a special Festival of Education podcast episode with Francesca Martinez here
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