The Pacific Heights Elementary Code of Conduct positions the school as a community of “learners (curiosity, humility, engagement, wonder, delight, creativity, collaboration, passion)” and emphasises “care for self, others, and the environment,” framing positive relationships as “foundational to learning.”
This aspirational preface signals a relational ethos. Yet the operational sections reveal a blend of restorative language, behaviourist assumptions, and moralised performance expectations that can function unevenly for neurodivergent children—especially those whose sensory systems, relational capacities, or communication styles sit outside school norms.
Values and behavioural expectations
The list under “What does this look like?” includes:
- “Using kind words with others”
- “Treating everyone with respect; using manners”
- “Engaging in learning and giving our best effort”
- “Moving safely in the classroom, hallways, stairs”
- “Including others”
- “Solving problems in peaceful ways”
These statements carry an implicit behavioural ideal—regulated, pro-social, communicative, effortful, calm, and consistently relational—which creates friction for autistic children, PDA children, trauma-impacted learners, and students who rely on movement or withdrawal as self-protection.
The phrase “using manners” is particularly ableist in school contexts, where neurodivergent communication differences often get pathologised as rudeness. Similarly, “engaging in learning and giving our best effort” is a non-falsifiable expectation—one that staff often interpret through compliance rather than capacity.
The inclusion mandate—“including others”—is ethically commendable but practically complex; it risks placing the burden of social integration on children rather than on the school’s responsibility to build accessible, supported community structures.
The restorative-behavioural hybrid
The Code’s “Process” section states that consequences will be applied “in a fair and consistent manner, respecting individuals’ rights, responsibilities, age, needs, and maturity,” with a stated “focus…on restorative practices that strengthen relationships.”
This is promising language, yet the subsequent structure reveals the familiar four-step behavioural sequence:
- Awareness
- Taking responsibility
- Making reparations
- Demonstrated learning
Each stage contains assumptions about insight, emotional literacy, executive function, and meta-cognitive capacity. For autistic students or children in meltdown-adjacent states, these expectations—particularly “understanding the impact of one’s actions” and “acknowledging that what has occurred is not reflective of our goals”—can feel coercive rather than restorative.
The fourth step, If time could be reversed, what would you do differently? What will you do next time?, presumes that behaviour arises from choice rather than from neurology, overload, or unmet support needs.
The final line—Over time, if learning has occurred the actions/behaviours should have stopped—returns fully to behaviourist logic. It positions the cessation of behaviour as the proof of learning, which undermines the claim of relational restorativeness.
Behaviour rooted in disability does not “stop” through insight; it diminishes through accommodation, environmental adjustment, and co-regulation.
Disability and diversity lens
The Code does not reference:
- disability
- neurodiversity
- sensory needs
- communication differences
- trauma-informed practice
- legal duties (e.g., FIPPA privacy, Human Rights Code protections, or the duty to accommodate)
This absence is not unusual, but it leaves significant interpretive gaps. A student who engages in “unkind” speech because of echolalia, impulsivity, or emotional overload may be misread as violating respect norms. A child who cannot “solve problems in peaceful ways” due to dysregulation may be funnelled into disciplinary processes instead of supported through predictable, preventative scaffolding.
The Code frames harm primarily through interpersonal morality rather than structural or disability-related context. This risks pathologising the child rather than interrogating the conditions that produced the behaviour.
Privacy and psychological safety
The expectations for reporting—“Reporting dangerous situations to staff”—align with safety norms, but the Code does not clarify privacy boundaries, student rights during incidents, or the conditions under which information will be shared with other students or families.
This lack of clarity creates vulnerability: restorative language without privacy protections can lead to public conversations, breached confidentiality, or staff disclosure that retraumatises children.
Roles and accountability
The concluding line lists the responsible stakeholders: “Student, Parent, Teacher, School.”
This framing distributes accountability laterally rather than hierarchically—useful in theory, but too often used to imply that children and parents share equal responsibility for preventing incidents. In disability contexts, this can shift responsibility away from schools’ legal obligations and toward families’ emotional labour.
Summary evaluation
| Dimension | Assessment |
|---|---|
| Equity / Disability Justice | Limited. No explicit acknowledgement of disability, sensory needs, or diverse communication profiles. |
| Neurodiversity Affirmation | Minimal. Behaviour is framed through moral, relational, and effort-based expectations. |
| Behaviour Framework | Primarily behavioural with restorative vocabulary layered on top. |
| Privacy & Safety | Insufficiently articulated for vulnerable students. |
| Alignment with BC Human Rights Code | Implicit, but not explicit; lacks language around the duty to accommodate. |
| Collective Punishment Risk | Moderate to high if interpreted through compliance norms; no explicit prohibition. |
Overall rating: ★★☆☆☆
Pacific Heights uses warm, aspirational language to articulate community values, yet the operational structure remains grounded in behaviourist assumptions about insight, effort, self-regulation, and moral alignment. For neurodivergent learners—especially those with PDA profiles, trauma histories, or sensory-driven behavioural expressions—this framework risks misinterpretation and punitive responses disguised as relational practice.
Interpretive note and invitation for feedback
This analysis reflects the perspective of one parent, grounded in lived experience, trauma-informed principles, and a neurodiversity-affirming framework. It is not legal advice. If the school district leadership believes this reading misrepresents the intent or implementation of its Code of Conduct, I welcome clarification—and the opportunity to revise my understanding.
- To educators: These critiques are not intended to shame or condemn. They are written to illuminate the structural patterns that shape how school policies are experienced by disabled students and their families. If you feel your school’s Code of Conduct has been mischaracterised, or if important context or corrections are missing, your insight is welcome. Thoughtful disagreement and collaborative improvement are always invited.
- To families: If you recognise your child—or yourself—in these patterns, or if your experience has been different, I want to hear from you. Whether a policy has caused harm, offered support, or raised questions, your perspective matters. Stories, corrections, and clarifications all help us understand how these codes function in real schools, for real people. Honest dialogue is how we build something better.
