Beyond the Whiteboard: Rethinking Education for Diverse Learners and Our Collective Future

Navigating the challenges of raising children whose learning needs don’t align with the way the curriculum is taught requires us to consider both their experiences and our emotional responses. Reflecting with close friends on the challenges of motherhood, especially when raising children who struggle with school, I found myself wondering, “Are there parents out there whose kids genuinely find joy in life?”

While my kids enjoy certain aspects of life, their day-to-day experience with school is something they loathe. I often think how much more fulfilling it might feel to be the parent of children who are truly happy.

Yet I also know that life’s challenges are where our opportunities for growth come from. In my fifties, I wouldn’t have half the resilience, competence, and confidence my kids see in me if I hadn’t been through some tough times. Not that we wish tough times on our kids, but they are an inevitable part of life, and I try to teach them that they can do hard things. I truly hope that as I watch them grow and mature into adulthood, I’ll see them flourishing, and that may bring a deeper sense of fulfillment in my role as a parent.

I don’t remember being as miserable as my kids when I was growing up. I remember the thrill of climbing onto the top of communal garage blocks, running across rooftops, and playing games like Hide and Seek with friends in my younger years. Sure, there was angst over friendships and boyfriends, anxiety in new situations, and resistance to my mum’s behavior and opinions most of the time, but on the whole, school wasn’t something I actively resisted. On the contrary, it was an area where I found autonomy and independence.

Through my competitive swimming, I experienced another world of independence outside the home, traveling to distant towns and staying away overnight. My mum used to say the biggest benefit of the intense training schedule was keeping me off the streets while doing something healthy. In high school, though, I always felt like I didn’t belong. I was “Shona the Swimmer” or, devastatingly once called, “Shona the Man” because I did Physical Education with the boys. I was dorky, wreaked of l'eau de chlorine, and often drifted off in class. But thankfully I didn’t have any learning difficulties; I did reasonably well academically.

Reflecting on my childhood, I can’t help but contrast it with the experiences of my kids. It makes me think about what Abraham Hicks says—that the purpose of life is to experience joy. When we’re true to ourselves and follow our inner guidance, we naturally feel joyful. Growth happens as a by-product of that joy; we don’t need to force it. But then I think about how tough it is for kids with learning challenges. The traditional school environment can be so frustrating for them because it doesn’t fit how they naturally learn. Every day can feel like a great effort, and it’s hard for them to find any joy or motivation in that kind of setting.

From kindergarten onward, my kids have balked at being in school. I didn’t fully understand why they seemed so exhausted and overwhelmed early on. Sure, there are days when they go without fuss, and occasionally things they look forward to, but both have (different) dyslexic and sensory challenges that make the learning environment particularly tough, leading to resistance and frustration.

I think about the concept of optimal motivation, which involves aligning tasks with intrinsic goals or value. While I understand that there are things in life we might not want to do but have no choice about other than choosing our attitude, for most kids, this is a level beyond their understanding unless they regularly see it role-modeled. Their childhood is filled with obligations they have to fulfill because the government or their parents say so.

For many kids, especially those who are neurodivergent, understanding and embracing the idea that they can choose their attitude toward learning tasks is both complex and often unattainable. They may struggle to see the purpose behind what they’re forced to learn in class, leading to feelings of frustration, resentment, or even helplessness.

As children grow, how they internalize these experiences can significantly shape their adult behavior. Some may continue to comply out of fear of disappointing others, leading to a pattern of people-pleasing and self-sacrifice. Others might rebel, seeking to assert their autonomy but sometimes doing so in ways that are self-centered or harmful to others. Finding that balanced approach—being assertive yet mindful and compassionate—is rare and often requires a conscious effort in adulthood to unlearn deeply ingrained patterns.

At the age my youngest is now, I was immersed in an intense routine—swimming morning and evening, attending school all day, and sneaking in late-night reading sessions by the hallway light. In contrast, my youngest doesn’t seem to have any strong interests outside of school. Social activities are rare, and by the end of the school day, they are completely drained, having expended all their energy at school.

My older child, who overcame many early reading and writing challenges, would greatly benefit from a hands-on, project-based learning environment now that they are in high school. They thrive in settings involving experiments, arts, crafts, and building models. Unfortunately, traditional education still relies heavily on a lecture-based approach, where teachers present information and students are expected to follow along all at the same pace. This system can be particularly challenging for students with non-linear thinking, as it often exacerbates issues related to memory, organization, time management, concentration, and communication.

On top of these learning challenges, my children also navigate typical social anxieties and emotional pressures of being teens—further complicated by screens and social media. These factors often lead to internalised stress, adding to their complexity of experience.

Reflecting on their journey since kindergarten, I understand the value of both education and resilience, yet it’s heartbreaking as a parent to see every day feel like a struggle for my children. I often feel frustrated with how the education system seems to overlook opportunities to make learning more engaging and fulfilling.

As I think about re-imagining education, it closely aligns with my current book project on healthcare, finding better ways to support people more holistically. While my current focus is on health, I’m eager to explore and share the stories of the people and organisations doing something different in terms of engaging our younger generations more holistically into the realms of learning.

It’s been forty years since I sat in a classroom, and back then, neurodivergences were not recognized. Those who struggled with traditional methods were often misunderstood and labeled unfairly. I’ve encountered many intelligent individuals who were misjudged simply because the system didn’t accommodate their learning styles.

Today, we recognize that learning differences exist, yet many educational systems still rely on outdated methods. This raises an important question: When will we embrace a more inclusive approach that truly supports diverse learning needs?

As we reflect on these issues, I invite you to consider your own experiences with education and the impact of outdated systems. How can we collectively work towards a future where every child’s learning style is valued and supported? How can we advocate for changes that will make learning more engaging and effective for all students? Your insights and actions could be key to driving the transformation we so urgently need.

If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Finding Balance: Making Big Changes Through Small Steps in a Complex Life, The Silent Wins: How to Acknowledge and Celebrate Your Growth, Leaders Who Walk the Talk and Are Interested in People and Self Empowerment , Crafting a New Vision for Healthcare: How Our Personal Journeys Shape the Future and Evolving Education. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.