Inclusion Starts Young—And We Need to Do Better

This weekend, I encountered a situation I really didn’t like while leading my weekly cross-country skiing session for my group of youngsters. Overall, the sessions have been going well. At 7-8 years old, they’re still learning the importance of group cohesion and collaboration (I’ll come back to this), but I admire their determination. Despite the recent cold temperatures and gusty winds, they continue to push themselves to improve.

This weekend was particularly challenging—it was freezing! Yet, 10 out of my 12 kids still showed up to ski. We had to take numerous breaks, staying close to the heated tent. Toward the end of the session, many groups gathered inside to warm up, but my group wanted to head back out to our practice hill for a bit—which made me quite proud of them.

The other groups were staying indoors to play games, and one child from another group enthusiastically said, “I want to go!” I had no problem with this. I knew his name and a little about him. He doesn’t really like playing with others, doesn’t always socialize in the typical way, keeps to himself, and finds fascination in things other kids might overlook. For example, he was mesmerized by icicles, watching how they shattered into pieces, but had no interest in playing with the others. He also has intense reactions for his age and can be quite determined to get his way, often not listening to directives.

You may have guessed by now—this child has ASD.

Coaching Canada trains us on inclusive coaching and adapting to different needs, and I’m grateful to have knowledge in this area. But I can’t say the same for all coaches. I knew what to expect when I let him join my group. What I didn’t expect was another child's reaction, which caught me off guard.

Very bluntly, she said, “I don’t want him to come. I don’t like him.”

My initial response was just as blunt—I firmly stated, “We do not speak that way about others.”

Later, I took her aside to explain that her words could be hurtful and that everyone deserves to be part of a group. She told me that he was in her class and that they didn’t get along well. I can respect that—not everyone will be your cup of tea. But that’s never an excuse to be unkind.

This situation left me wondering: Has anyone explained to these kids that some friends think, play, and communicate differently? Managing moments like these isn’t always easy, but here are some principles we should teach children (and maybe some adults too):

• Make people reflect on their own behavior.
• Frame inclusion as a general rule!
• Teach kids about differences in how people think, play, or communicate.
• If exclusion is mean-spirited rather than unintentional, step in and address it directly, reinforcing kindness and respect.
• If you’re an adult in the situation, model inclusive behavior. Kids learn a lot by watching how we interact.

Children start developing an understanding of kindness and social behavior at different stages, influenced by their cognitive development, emotional maturity, and social environment. Your role as an adult is to help build influence their development hopefully positively. As a general breakdown, the 8-year-olds are at an age where they should understand kindness and inclusion, but they’re still learning to navigate personal dislikes and group dynamics.

I decided to speak about this today because, over the past few days, I’ve witnessed similar behavior among adults.

During a class, one adult tends to be a "know-it-all"—he is very verbose and hyperactive. Obviously, I don’t know if he has a diagnosis, but that’s beside the point. Inclusivity and kindness shouldn’t be reserved for some; they should be the framework we all navigate within.

During the class, he asked multiple questions and kept talking at length. Eventually, another student, without realizing he wasn’t on mute, said loudly, “Will he shut up?” I later found out that in his group chat, they often say mean things about this person. I thought to myself, this is completely unacceptable from an adult.

This situation made angry and hurt for the person. It made me reflect on why teaching inclusivity to children matters so much—it’s not just about them; it’s about the kind of adults they become. If we instill kindness and respect early on, perhaps we’ll see fewer instances of exclusion and cruelty, even in adulthood.

In the end, teaching inclusivity and kindness to children isn't just about shaping their future—it's about shaping the world we live in today. The way we treat others, regardless of their differences or behaviors, reflects the values we internalize from a young age. If we want a society where respect and understanding are the norm, we must start by fostering these principles early on. The situation I witnessed serves as a stark reminder that adults are not immune to exclusionary or unkind behavior. It proves that the lessons we teach children—about patience, empathy, and acceptance—aren't just for them; they're for all of us. Inclusivity and kindness shouldn't be situational or reserved for certain people—they should be the foundation of how we engage with one another, at any age.