There is no such thing as a neutral rule. Every expectation reflects a theory of the child: what is normal, what is ideal, what is possible. And in most classrooms, these theories are wrong.
I was given a list of behavioural values from my child’s class—Division 3. It included items like: stay in the group, be quiet, wait to speak, ask the teacher to leave the room, be at your desk. These were framed not as expectations to be discussed, but as virtues to be upheld. What they lacked were the accommodations that make these rules accessible. What they assumed was sameness.
But my children are not the same as the children these rules were built around. They are autistic. One has a PDA profile. They regulate through movement. They express distress non-verbally. They do not always use spoken words to communicate need. They need breaks preemptively, not punitively. And when they cannot meet a rule, it is not defiance. It is disability.
Let’s take just one example: ask the teacher to leave the room. For a PDA child in distress, that demand is often impossible. Verbal processing may be shut down. Executive function is impaired. The need to leave may be urgent, physiological, uncontrollable. To expect a polite verbal request under those conditions is not just unrealistic—it is harmful.
Or consider stay in the group. Group settings are often overwhelming: the sound, the movement, the social complexity. A child who removes themself is not refusing to participate—they are doing what they must to avoid meltdown. When rules like these are enforced without flexibility, they do not teach responsibility. They teach self-erasure.
Even rules that sound supportive can mask exclusion. It’s normal to use fidgets and take breaks, one guideline said. But when fidgets are locked away, when breaks must be earned or requested verbally, when autonomy is gatekept—then the message is clear: these supports are conditional. Your needs are not.
The cumulative effect is profound. Children who cannot comply are labelled disruptive. Their bodies are read as resistant. Their distress is mistaken for intent. And instead of adjusting the rule, the school adjusts the child’s access.
Rules can build safety. But only if they are flexible, revisited, and embedded in a culture of accommodation. My children want to learn. They want to belong. But they need rules that recognise difference—not ones that punish it.
