What has representation got to do with schools?

I was travelling back from Stafford on Friday after delivering a session on storytelling and inclusion. As usual, I eased into the journey with a podcast to keep the motorway tedium to a minimum. That day, it was David Didau and Martin Robinson as my metaphorical passengers, discussing queer theory and whether it has a place in schools. As part of the conversation, they turned to the topic of representation and seeing yourself in the curriculum. They explored gender, sexuality, ethnicity, and culture. They didn’t mention disability.

Now, I’m not one for pointing fingers or saying, “you were strangely quiet about disability…” But I did wonder why this element was missing? And what does representation of physical difference look like in schools, if it happens at all?

My ex-husband was born with Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency, this is a rare condition which meant he was born without a hip socket and with a shortened, atrophied leg. Disability and difference have shaped much of his life: long hospital stays, childhood surgeries, and coping with people asking questions about his body. Interestingly, my younger children haven’t really noticed his physical difference. It’s just part of who he is. No big discussion. No dramatic reveal or specific moment.

However, not every child finds that same ease around disability and difference. A friend recently asked me if I had any storybooks about achondroplasia. His child had started to ask questions about why they looked different from others and the books on their shelves weren’t crafted well enough to answer his questions.

Representation matters. Not just in what we teach, but in what children see. The characters in stories. The people drawn in illustrations. The faces in training materials and classroom posters.

I’m fortunate to work with a talented artist-in-residence who brings our educational resources to life. Whether we’re creating materials about emotionally based school avoidance or transitions, we make sure our illustrations reflect the world as it really is, including children and adults with visible disabilities.

The resources might not be about disability. But they include disabled people, naturally and unapologetically, as part of the community.

Disability is a unique kind of difference. Anyone can become disabled, through accident, illness, age, or be affected by it through the people that they love. Yet, at present, disability is too often absent from our conversations about inclusion. Worse, some policy discussions paint disabled people as economically inactive, burdensome, or separate from the "productive" population.

I have Tourette’s and as a woman, that’s more unusual both statistically and socially. I remember reading about a brilliant teacher described as “the only teacher with Tourette’s.” It stuck with me, not because it was true, but because it wasn’t. I was a teacher with Tourette’s and I know others, too, colleagues who suppress, hide, or mask it out of fear or shame or because they worry it will change perceptions of others about them.

Teaching is a profession where you’re expected to be articulate, composed, and in control. Tourette’s can challenge all of that. As a result, when I get the opportunity, I speak to girls in schools about it. Representation isn’t just about being seen, or a curriculum nod, it’s about being proud of every part of who you are and being allowed to show that wherever you might be.

Your authentic self includes each facet of your identity, even the ones others don’t expect or those that they try not to see.

So what has representation got to do with school? Everything. Our schools are microcosms of the wider community and there is a lot we can do here to challenge poor representation socially.

And if you’re looking for inclusive resources, ones that start to reflect the diversity of our children, you can download them for free at: www.phoenixeducationconsultancy.com/tools