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I once heard about a teacher who proudly called herself a “passionate special educator.” But when she encountered children with severe needs — like a child with cerebral palsy who drooled — she kept her distance. What struck me even more was this: she advised her friend to keep her own baby away from children with special needs, fearing the baby could somehow “contract” their condition. That single comment spoke volumes. This is where words and actions begin to part ways. Passion, when it’s only convenient, can actually harm the very children we claim to support. Convenient passion is surface-level. It shows up when it’s easy, when it earns praise, or when it looks admirable. It hides when things get messy, uncomfortable, or when stigma creeps in. Convenient passion says: “I love helping children with special needs… but not when it makes me uncomfortable.” What Research Reminds Us Studies show that teacher attitudes deeply shape the success of inclusion.  A 2020 review in t...

A teacher once asked:  “Is it right to force a child who finds it difficult to respond to questions after a class?” It’s a brave question—and one that deserves an honest answer. The short response? No. Forcing a child to answer isn’t the path to learning. When a child doesn’t respond to questions, we often assume they don’t know the answer. But silence can mean many things . Sometimes the child is still processing. Sometimes they know the answer but are afraid of being wrong. Other times, it’s about needing more time, or struggling with the way the question is phrased. Imagine someone asking you a question in a room full of people, your mind racing, but the words just won’t form. You know, but you can’t say it fast enough. That’s what many children experience. Now, let’s think about what happens when we “force” a response . Pressure kicks in. The child may shut down further, associating learning with stress or embarrassment. Instead of building curiosity, we build fear. Instea...

At a recent teachers’ conference, a hand went up from the audience with a question that has lingered in my mind ever since. The teacher asked: “How can I help a child in an environment where the school allocates limited time to me as a teacher?” I could feel the weight of that question. It wasn’t just about time—it was about responsibility, about care, about the silent frustration many teachers carry when they want to do more but feel they cannot. The truth is: in education, time often feels scarce. Schedules are packed, lessons are rushed, and support time for children with unique needs is often cut short. But does less time automatically mean less impact? Not necessarily. It’s Not How Much Time, It’s What You Do With It If you only have 10 or 15 minutes, those moments can still change everything. What matters most is intentionality. Instead of trying to do everything at once, focus on one specific goal. Maybe today you help the child practice calming down when overwhelmed. Ma...

Dear School Leader, One of the most fascinating things I’ve learned as both an inclusive education practitioner and an NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming) practitioner is this: Teachers don’t just act on what they know; they act on how they think . So when a teacher resists professional development, it’s not always about stubbornness or lack of care. Often, it’s about the mental filters —that shape how they see growth, change, and responsibility. 'Sameness' versus 'Difference':   We talk about people who prefer sameness (sticking with what already works) and those who thrive on difference (seeking out what’s new). A “sameness” teacher may say, “I’ve been teaching like this for 10 years and it works.” A “difference” teacher may say, “I love learning new strategies; it keeps me fresh.” Neither is wrong. But if most of your staff are wired toward “sameness,” then growth feels threatening rather than exciting. 'Toward' versus 'Away': Teachers who ...

Imagine it’s a Tuesday morning. A teacher knocks on your office door. You invite them in, and after a deep breath, they say, “ I’ve decided to resign. ” In Neurolinguistic Programming (NLP), we say “every communication changes the state of the listener.” In that moment, your emotional state will shift—maybe you feel disappointed, surprised, or even betrayed. That’s normal. But the truth is: just like in any other job, teachers have the right to decide when it’s time to move on. They have dreams, plans, and personal goals—just like you do. Why Does It Sting So Much? Maybe because you’ve told them more than once, “We’re a family here.” It’s a nice sentiment, but from my perspective, the word “family” carries an embedded presupposition —it suggests permanence, loyalty without limits, and an emotional obligation to stay. So when someone leaves, your mind might process it as “family breaking apart” rather than “a professional moving to a new chapter.” That unconscious framing can ma...

Let’s talk, teacher to teacher 🙂. You signed up for that expert-level training programme that runs for a few weeks—the one you were super excited about. You paid for it (with your own money!), told your colleagues about it, and maybe even whispered a prayer like, “ Lord, let this be my ticket to that next level.” But now, midway through the course, your facilitator is still sending you multiple reminders. “Have you read the instructions?” “Did you attend class?” “Have you submitted the assignment?” You’re dodging emails, missing deadlines, and somehow needing to be chased around like a child who doesn’t want to do their homework. So, here's my honest question to you: What happened? We Get It: Teaching Is Hard Look, no one’s saying you’re not busy. Teaching is a physically and mentally demanding job. You’re showing up for your learners, juggling lesson plans, discipline issues, meetings, and still trying to stay sane. However, the same way you value your work and want to grow is th...