In our well-intentioned drive to recognise and support neurodiversity, there is a growing risk that we inadvertently pathologise what are often natural, emotionally-driven human differences in learning and development. Diagnostic labels such as dyslexia can provide access to support, funding, or a sense of identity and community. However, they can also impose silent constraints that shape a learner’s self-perception across the life course. A child told they are dyslexic may carry an enduring belief that certain ambitions , writing a book, for instance , lie forever out of reach, not because of inherent inability, but because a label subtly communicated deficiency.

Week after week, I witness the misalignment between children’s authentic learning needs and the pedagogical structures they are expected to navigate. Many are described as ‘struggling to grasp phonics’ or ‘falling behind’ in reading, when in fact the methods used fail to accommodate natural variation in language development. Similarly, generations have grown up convinced they are ‘not good at maths,’ shaped by a curriculum delivered predominantly through rote, auditory, and procedurally linear instruction ,a style that excludes as much as it teaches.

This is not a failure of children to learn, but a failure of educational systems to teach inclusively.

Contemporary neuroscience reinforces the view that cognitive development is diverse, plastic, and profoundly shaped by environment. Learning differences are not pathologies to be remediated, but variations to be recognised, respected, and supported through responsive teaching. Labels, if used, must open doors , not close them.

True inclusion cannot be achieved through diagnosis alone. It demands a fundamental redesign of pedagogy, culture, and expectation , one that sees all learners as capable and worthy of growth, without prerequisite conformity to narrow developmental norms.