Cluster 8 Neurodiversity Event 2025

 

Conference Reflection – Neurodiversity Event
At the heart of this recent gathering was a powerful invitation to re-see learning, difference and inclusion. Over two days, I found myself repeatedly challenged — to step beyond familiar frameworks, to lean into cultural perspectives, and to ask: how might I bring greater safety, belonging and agency into my own work?

One of the first notable take-aways came from the session by Nathan Wallis on the neurobiology of difference. I was reminded how our early years — the brainstem, the limbic system, the emerging frontal cortex — form foundational gateways to how we learn, respond and behave. When trauma hijacks those early pathways, the ability to access the more reflective, cognitive parts of the brain becomes compromised. It made me question: how often in our settings are my students operating in the “survival brain” zone rather than making space for the “learning brain”?

From there the focus shifted into the internal world of the learner: interoception, neuroception, co-regulation. for me it was a bit of lightbulb moment when I heard “the loudest kid can be the most sensitive to sound,” and the notion that internal body-sense matters, not just outward behaviour. In essence: safety and regulation come first, then learning. That flips a common script on its head — and makes me reflect on how my own planning might prioritise cognition, when in fact the body must feel safe, the system calm.

Then came a profound layer of cultural narrative, led by Māori-centred strands of thought. The notion that the brain (“roro”) carries sacredness, that whakapapa and mana are entwined with neuro-difference: it reframed the conversation for me. Too often I’ve viewed neurodiversity through a Western lens of disorder or deficit. Here I was invited to see it as difference, strength, connection. To listen for the question: What’s being valued here? — and to consider whether the language I use uplifts or distances. The whisper of “don’t should on me” from an inclusive design frame still rings in my ears.

Another theme: the design of systems. Session after session reminded us that curriculum, classroom design, assessment frameworks are not neutral—they shape who gets to belong, who gets to contribute. Inclusion isn’t about fitting more people into an existing mould. It’s about re-shaping the mould, shifting the baseline from “average” to “range.” The four key questions – Who, What, How, Who (agency) – rise as a practical compass for me. How often do we build with variability in mind? How often do we invite student agency explicitly?

Finally, I left with a renewed conviction: our role is less about fixing and more about inviting. The role is less about managing deficits, more about scaffolding access, honouring difference, designing for that unpredictable human messiness. I’ll carry with me the three-step support model: Remove barriers → Identify group needs → Identify individual needs. It’s deceptively simple—but powerful in its orientation to context, to person, to possibility.

What will I try next week?

• I’ll start by auditing my physical and emotional “safety” cues in my space: what might elevate stress for someone’s nervous system?

• I’ll revise one upcoming lesson/task by asking: What’s the meaningful destination? Then backwards design from there.

• I’ll revisit my language: how often I say “average,” “typical,” or “normal” — and consider shifting to “range,” “difference,” “diverse pathways.”

• I’ll invite student/whānau voice into the planning: “What do you need to feel safe and ready to learn?” rather than “What’s wrong with you?”

• And I’ll stay curious: about culture, about brain-lighting, about safety not just as a static state but as a process.

In all, this event didn’t just offer new frameworks—it invited a subtle but necessary shift in stance. Learning, it reminded me, isn’t just about brains and behaviour—it’s about belonging, regulation, design, culture. If we hold those at the centre, everything else falls more kindly into place.