The Big Article

Labels and Everyday Words: Speaking truth to kids with learning disabilities and other learning challenges.

When I consult for kids who have learning disabilities I have to be comfortable in two different worlds - the world of science, and the world of the family. Each of these worlds has its own language. Science likes precise and technical language (”fancy words”). Families tend to use language that’s plainspoken and natural.

Have you ever been labeled by a teacher, parent, or someone you trusted? You might like your label. You might hate it. You might have ambiguous feelings towards it. But, if you’re like my students, it’s probably affected you one way or another. Labels matter.

If your kid has a learning disability, you already know one fancy word: “learning disability.” This word - and way of thinking - was put into the world by a researcher named Samuel Kirk. He used it to group kids by how they struggled to learn, and it birthed a new perspective on learning challenges. In education we use labels from many fields: medicine, psychology, education … and so many more.

After all, education is where everything all comes together- our collective wealth of knowledge; our societal needs; and our ability to pass it on to the next generation. So we take ideas and words from anywhere that might help.

No matter where they come from, the most popular ‘fancy language’ describes a student using a label or two: they’ve got “dyscalcula”, they have a “mood disorder”. Each label gives access to a ton of understandings and interventions for use by parents, practitioners, and (most importantly) the kids themselves.

The alternative to science talk is a folksy language, based on ordinary words: “my kid learns differently,” or “they’re a slow reader.” Usually, this way of talking comes naturally, or comes from someone who is working with the kid. In this view, the kid has their own unique set of skills and goals, which forms the core of how the we understand the kid’s behaviour.

The question “which is right?” is obvious, but misguided. The “which is right” tool leads you to choose one way of thinking over the other. I’ve found no benefit in limiting myself to one way of thinking. Labels and everyday words can both be powerful tools in your kids’ liberation. Or, they can be used to make your kid suffer and feel like they can’t achieve anything at all.

For me, it all depends if I use labels blindly or mindfully. Thinking about when to use each approach has been helpful, and I’m going to share what I’ve observed here.

Let’s start with labels. When do you think a label helps? When do you think it hurts?

Here’s a even more basic question: what do psychological labels actually do?

They are all about finding patterns and then naming (and describing) them. For example, there are different labels for different forms of dyslexia, each reflecting a different way that people struggle to read. If my student has one of those lables I know where to start, and I”ll make some assumptions about how they read.

These patterns are “discovered” (i.e. described and re-described) by researchers, content creators, and professionals like me who work with kids and families. They make a label and set it loose where it spreads other researchers, media makers, professionals and parents and kids too.

Some of these lables are great for us! They spread because they’re useful. But others spread because because they’re memorable, because they feel good to think, or beacuse they hijack our brain with marketing tricks. So we can’t assume that a label is useful just beacuse it’s popular.

Sometimes labels are undeniably useful. I think of the many students I’ve had who were confused by their own behaviour - and then found deep relief from an Autism Spectrum diagnosis. For some kids, self-understanding goes way up after diagnosis. Social events that were overwhelming and confusing become more fun and easier to navigate; personality masks worn for years can be shed or better integrated into a person’s personality; and, people often find it easier to create joy and happiness.

But that’s not always how it goes. I’ve seen many harmful uses of labels, too.

To begin with, a label is only as useful as the field that produced it. When I’m using a term produced in a high-quality way - with solid science and a long history of successful use - it’s safer for my students. But when fancy words are made with shoddy thinking, research, or application, they can hurt the people they’re applied to.

It’s challenging for me to know which labels are best to use - and I’m trained to read research and try to keep up with new ideas. For most parents it’s even harder to tell the quality of the science, or, the science might even change over time.

For example, there are some particular behavioural interventions (e.g. ABA) that, today, many Autistic people consider harmful and disempowering. But, for a time, some of these were ‘gold standard’ therapy. So, in the 90s, the label of ‘autism’ would drive you towards a harmful treatment, while today (we think! we hope!) it’s more likely to lead to improve things. We don’t actually know.

As a parent, you’ll never be sure which world you’re living in. Putting 100% trust in the ideas and concepts of the wrong label at the wrong time might really backfire.

Even if the field is solid, a label can stop kids from getting the help they need. Kids with ADHD are often ignored because of the label - it gives parents and teachers a reason to ignore totally reasonable concerns a kid might have. When my students are avoiding a task, I assume they have a good reason - maybe they think the task is irrelevant and have no way of motivating themselves to do it. Parents and teachers will say ‘their ADHD is making it impossible to concentrate.’ They might lower expectations, increase medication, increase help from tutors and other teachers - all ways to ‘fix’ and ‘support’ the underlying disability and thus the kid.

But they might not listen deeply. (I’ve made that mistake many times!) They might not ask ‘Why don’t you want to start this task?’ and then take the answer seriously. The kid really wants to talk about their concerns, and without that conversation, they’re sure you don’t get it. (If your kid doesn’t want to talk about their concerns it’s a sign you don’t get it).

A parent not getting it is a sure recipe for failure. So nowadays, when a kid tells me “‘it’s not just ADHD, there are other problems with what I’m being asked to do, please help me!”- I try to start with what they see.

I’ve learned to watch out for sketchy labels that aren’t very rigorous. I’ve learned to avoid making assumptions based on the label, and actually ask the kid what’s going on. But, even so, danger remains. Labels have another attribute that makes them even more treacherous: they can be fun to use.

For example, the label of ‘narcissist’ is used for both people who act selfishly and people who have a personality disorder. We use the label ‘narcissist’ for many people who don’t fit the clinical criteria for diagnosis. Why? It feels good to think of other people’s bad behaviour as coming from a persistent, selfish defect in their personality - even if the real cause is trauma, poor health, misunderstandings, or a learning disability.

The precision of the term narcissim helps people with the disorder and the people who’ve been hurt by them. When we wash out its meaning (because we use it for fun), it makes it harder for people with an undiagnosed personality disorder to get help, and it makes it harder for people who are a bit selfish (but not disabled) to take simple actions to change it.

So I’ve seen that labels are dangerous. They require good science. They have to be used sparingly or they can hurt people and objectify them. They have to be used accurately or they spread too widely and lose their meanings. But on the other hand, they can be incredibly helpful.

I think it’s cool to realize that a well validated label has been thought about by the some of the best minds in the world, who went through a flawed, but awesome process of mutual critique called “peer review”. Then it’s been used by clinicians to make real and lasting change in the lives of kids who learn differently. It’s not just a word, it’s a whole system of understanding!

My students with anxiety disorders are not just ‘feeling stressed.’ Knowing this reminds me of the automatic and unhelpful nature of the anxious thoughts. It reminds me to be compassionate when the anxiety becomes overwhelming for the student. And sometimes, when I talk about a few research supported anxiety strategies and model my compassion for the student, they internalize them, and practice it, and that can change everything.

Similarly, understanding that a kid “has a learning disability” can take something super vague - ‘this person is smart but they don’t seem to learn right’ - and make it useable, specific, and better fit to what makes that person unique. A kid who is always staring out the window in socials studies seems like they have an attention problem - until we realize that their auditory processing is out of whack and they have a ‘central auditory processing disorder’. Then we understand that the kid is too busy processing the sounds to think about social studies, so they’re terribly bored and tune out

We don’t just get a fancy word - we get a world of strategies and techniques for removing suffering and improving learning. The student with auditory processing disorder can train to improve and the school can make it easier for her to hear the teacher.

Turning a vague observation into a label can make it so much easier for a teacher. For example, when a student of mine has a non-verbal learning disability (NVLD), I’m going to know that words are a relative strength. I’m going to reinforce visual information with verbal labels, and give lots of time and practice when operating with numbers, imagery, and non-verbal reasoning. I don’t have to do anything fancy, or buy any programs - I just need to take the label into account as I interact with the student.

The label also tells me what not to do. If I don’t know a kid has NVLD, I’ll probably assume many of their comprehension problems are attentional, and try to “help them get organized.” But with the right label - NVLD - I know that comprehension and meaning will be a challenge. I’ll switch to preloading, so they know what’s coming and get multiple passes through the material.

That’s the power of labels: they summarize huge pools of knowledge, created by communities and understandable to those who want to learn all about it. And, that power is the source of danger: when they summarize a student incorrectly or incompletely, they make it so that student can’t make progress at all.

And interestingly, that is the power of everyday words as well. They, too, summarize vast pools of knowledge - the common sense understandings parents and kids have about each other.

When I got into the educational psychology business I was obsessed with fancy words. They impressed parents and teachers; they gave me a clear direction; they made me feel that I understood what was “really” going on.

But I often forgot that everyday words have a secret source of power that fancy words don’t -- they make sense. We’re built to understand them. When you treat another person like they have goals, beliefs, thoughts and desires you’re using a perspective as old as we are. You don’t need to know you’re doing it, it’s intuitive.

You can see this in action by pretending you’re doing this psychology study from 1944. Watch this video and tell me - what’s happening to these shapes?

This youtube commenter saw a family drama:

This is similar to the original 1944 study results.

[Viewers]  described a love story, a fight, a chase, a victory. …shapes hit your eyes, but we see meaning …all in the form of a social narrative -David Egleman

To think about intentions is beyond natural. It’s built in. We don’t just use it for people  - it’s how we think about anything that acts like it’s got a mind, even if it’s a triangle. When we use natural thinking to talk about common learning situations, it can make things much easier.

When we treat kids like they’re regular humans having everyday problems, sometimes complex situations are easier to understand.

Here’s some “technical” vs. “everyday” ways of explaining situations I see day-to-day as a special ed consultant.

Situation 1: A kid with dyslexia avoids reading her book, and quits after a few minutes.

• Technical: She’s dyslexic, so her phonemic awareness is low, and fluency is reduced, putting burden on her in long tasks.

• Everyday: She has doesn’t know the sounds of language, so reading is slow and awkward, and she tires quickly.

Situation 2: A kid procrastinates whenever they’re starting an assignment.

• Technical: A student’s ADHD is causing executive dysfunction around task initiation, requiring executive skills training.

• Everyday: This kid has trouble figuring out what to do first, we need to help them with that step.

Situation 3: A student continually fails tests despite their best efforts.

• Technical: Past trauma has led this student to be actively inefficient and studying is ineffective

• Everyday: This student is under pressure from home, and so they spend time studying to show that they’re trying hard. But they don’t think about what the work really means or how to best do it (they’re way too stressed), so they choose cookie-cutter studying methods like highlighting that don’t work.

Situation 4: A student never remembers what the teacher says.

• Technical: There is a gap between this students’ auditory processing and other language abilities; using a more appropriate mode will likely to lead better performance on complex tasks.

• Everyday: This student doesn’t process what they hear, and needs things written down.

To me - and most of my students - the everyday words are easier to understand. But let me tell you an awkward secret: I actually like the academic ones a lot, (even though I’m going to argue that they’re pretty useless as presented here!). And I’ll tell you why that is - I’m a huge nerd.

I did 12 years of post-secondary schooling. These words are a playground and I feel them deeply and intuitively (or at least I think I do) - mostly because I’ve been using them for decades. They represent complex models of human behaviour and each term gives access to a ton of knowledge.

That's how I know that, in many cases, these words won’t work to help kids and parents deal with hard situations.

Why don’t fancy words work? It’s not that academic words are longer, or more complicated. The problem is that these perspectives don’t easily include the human being as an active agent in their own life.

• The student doesn’t read because of the trait “dyslexia.”

• The student doesn’t begin the task because they have ADHD

• Trauma has caused a student to study in a way that is inefficient

• A student’s poor performance happens because they’re better at processing written words rather than sounds.

Where is the human in these ideas? These mechanistic accounts of behaviour can make students feel like objects, and deepen negative patterns. “Oh I have ADHD? I guess that’s why I can’t focus or start anything”. The language we tell kids gives them an idea of what is possible, and these explanations often disempower students.

Of course, we’ve got to give science some credit! There are many branches of science that do try to position the human as an empowered agent. These are my favorite parts of science. But my experience is that those ideas don’t catch hold in the same way that simple labels do, and so many people interact with a more narrow type of “science.” When a naive view of science is held by many parents and even practitioners the result is ironic: everyday words can be better for expressing complex truths.

On the other hand, everyday words have a serious problem - they can provoke shame, bad behaviour, and create conflict between parents, students, and teachers. These words evolved to allow human interaction, and that includes shame. Everyday language can make a kid feel like everything is their fault. Trust me, I’ve accidentally done it many times.

“Want” is an example of an ‘everyday’ term that - when it’s used by parents or teachers - will usually block a kid’s progress.

Here’s a few examples:

• If you really wanted to go to College you’d be studying

• I guess you didn’t want to go to French class today

• These kids only want to learn things that they find interesting.

What, exactly, is a “want”? It’s something deep inside us that drives us towards a goal. These stories all use ‘bad wanting’ as a reason to explain why a student isn’t doing things they should.

Do you see the problem? It’s the same as the fancy words - these words take away agency from the student! A student who doesn’t “want” to go to college won’t study. Why? Because they don’t want to! How do we know that? Because they don’t study! Why? Because they don’t want to! (and on and on).

This easily becomes toxic in the parent and child relationship, because ‘wanting the wrong thing’ makes it seem like the kid is making a bad choice, for the wrong reasons. “You don’t want to study?!” says the parent, “how will you ever get a job?” It seems to the parent that the kid is so “lazy” (another shitty everyday word), that they won’t undergo any stress to achieve their goal. The issue appears to be one of character.

But I’ve worked with hundreds of kids in this situation, and let me tell you, it is rarely an issue of character. It’s usually an issue of “this situation sucks and I don’t know what to do”.

For example, here are some thoughts your “won’t study” kid might be having:

• I’m too stupid to do well in college, so I better not try to get in.

• It never helps when I study - I still do badly - so why try?

• If I study, I'll have to go to college, and I really want to play in a band.

• My tummy hurts too much to study, and when I sit down and try to focus it gets worse.

• I hate this teacher, and she always gives me a low grade. What’s the point?

The “want” isn’t the cause, it’s the outcome! “I don’t want to” is a summary of a complex interaction between that kid’s psychology, and their specific teacher, class, life goals….so many things! And that’s the problem with ordinary words. They, too, can hide the cause of behaviour, and paper over complex processes with simple explanations that don’t help much.

That’s why fancy words can be such a relief. They may take away a student’s agency, but they’re not likely to suggest the problem is the kid’s fault in a way that ordinary language can. So even if fancy words are harder to understand, sometimes we might gravitate towards them, because they’re safe, and they let parent-student-teacher take aim at the same target: the disability, not the student.

So what are you to do? Well, I don’t know! But I know what works for me - and I’ll share that next.

I love talking with kids about their disabilities; it’s always a secret inroad to talking about their strengths and empowering them to enjoy their learning. Yes, it can be sensitive for kids; but it makes them more confident and knowledgable about who they are and how they can thrive.

I’m going to explain two different approaches I use to talk with students about their learning challenges. I think they both work for a simple reason: they start with the student, and not the vocabulary (or the perspective) of the parent or teacher.

Starting with what my student thinks and wants was always my intuition, which is why I had luck with my early students even though I was so untrained!

After I realized that this was a common way of teaching, my skills grew rapidly, and I benefited from some of the fancy terms that describe this way of teaching. I first ran into student-centered teaching formally when it was presented as Strategic Content Learning (SCL) - a teaching method invented by Deborah Butler and shown to help some kids with learning disabilities.

Here’s how I think of SCL:

Teaching with SCL is all about helping students figure out and test their own personalized goals and strategies.Together with a teacher-collaborator, they test some strategies for the task. They talk about what a kid thinks the task means, and their goals, strategies motivations, history, and other contextual factors as they choose and test approaches to the work.

The teacher focuses on asking guiding questions, interpreting and paraphrasing what they’re saying, and linking what they’re saying back to other ideas. They don’t spend much time evaluating - telling the person if their ideas are good or bad. Overtime, people become more independent with a set of personalized strategies they know how to use.

Here’s an example interaction from an SCL session (read the whole paper here):

There’s much to enjoy in this rich interaction. The way the teacher provides just enough guidance; or, how redirecting the student’s attention to the assignment helps her figure out what’s required. But one of the most important things is who is leading the interaction: the student.

This conversation was started and ended by the student. This is common in SCL, and I love it! In some studies students initiate up to half of the interactions. And when teachers do initiate, they don’t offer direct instruction - e.g. “Ok, here’s this is the first thing you need to do” - instead, they offer a question that provokes a student to figure out what to do. The student makes the important decisions, the student analyzies the task, the student figures out the right strategies. It empowers them.

SCL is helpful for kids with learning disabilities, but it doesn’t neccesarily suggest teaching them about those disabilities. I’ve found it easy use similar methods to bring disabilities into the conversation. Note that I’m not a very disciplined SCL teacher - I’m inspired by its responsive nature, but my adaptation contains a lot more enthusaistic exclamations and personal opinions/suggestions.

Here’s what it might sound like if I was having an SCL-style conversation with a student who has dyslexia:

Student: Oh man, I do NOT want to do this assignment.

Teacher: How come?

Student: I hate reading.

Teacher: Oh, k - and what’s this assignment?

Student: It’s an essay on “Cats Cradle” by Kurt Vonnegut.

Teacher: Oooooh. I love that book. What are you supposed to do?

Student: I don’t know. Read the book and write about it. Something about story and character.

Teacher: Is there an assignment sheet?

Student: Maybe. It could be on our classroom webpage.

Teacher: Should you check?

Student: Ok. [Checks]. It says I need to write notes on each chapter regarding ‘character’ and then and essay at the end. Ugh.

Teacher: Ugh? Is it the reading, or are you worried it’s boring?

Student: It’s going to be hard and take so long.

Teacher: Is the dyslexia part of that?

Student: Well, yes!

Teacher: Maybe it would be helpful to look at some dyslexia-friendly strategies for projects like this.

Student: Ok, maybe.

Teacher: Should I tell you a few?

Student. Ok.

Teacher: Well the classic strategy is to use an audiobook! It takes the reading load way down and you can easily make notes. But some kids like reading the text on the page. In that case I think it IS going to take a long time. But that’s kinda ok. Sometimes when kids with dyslexia take their time they can go very deep - an advantage of your hyperconnected brain. I can show you some ways to make it quicker - short reading sessions, a copy with the right text size, taking notes as you go - but it probably won’t be fast.

Student: Reading it on the page sounds like too much work.

Teacher: So, try the audiobook?

Student: Well I kinda wanna read it on the page. I wish we could do something that I knew I enjoyed. Then I’d read it. I read all the Harry Potter books, and it didn’t matter to me that they took so long.

Teacher: Well, I could help you write a note to your teacher asking to do a different book. But, honestly, I think part of the point of the assignment is to stretch your thinking, and get you reading some classic books. What do you think?

Student: Ok, yeah lets not change it the book. I’ll do “Cats Cradle”

Teacher: Sweet! Audiobook, or plan a bunch of time for paper reading?

Student: Ummmm. I think Audiobook.

Teacher: Ok! So first step, let’s find an audiobook? How could you do that?

This is not typical SCL! I’m doing more direct instruction, and offering some of my own knowledge and experience. But what I’m trying to capture from SCL is the responsive and flexible way I might engage with their learning disability. It’s not about me evaluating their idea. I’ll offer some practical ideas that flow from my teaching experience and/or the science of dyslexia, and they can sort through to find one that’s right for them, or move the conversation forward to come up with new and different ideas (e.g. asking for a new book).

Each kid can choose their own way to address their disability. One student thinks “dyslexia is easy as long as I use the audiobook.” Another student might remind themselves that they’ll need a ton of time to read the paper copy. A third might ask for remedial tutoring to help reduce the dyslexia’s interference with the task.

I, as the “expert,” don’t know what they need - I know how to offer support, and respond to what they’re really saying. That’s at the heart of most good teaching.

SCL relates to a method that’s more informal, and that I use with families and kids. There are lots of fancy terms related to this approach: ‘active listening,’ ‘co-constructing,’ ‘student-centered-instruction’ - but they don’t really capture how it feels to me.

For me, it feels like “treating the person with respect.”

“Respect”, to me, is about deference; and when we talk to kids about their disabilities, we need to defer to the student’s inner world - respect how they see their own learning. When we’ve started with the kid’s worldview, the options we offer are more useful, and easier for the kid to listen to. We’re more likely to think outside our preconceived notions when listening closely and showing respect.

It’s actually pretty simple: you talk with the kid, until you ‘get it,’ and then you offer them some options… maybe. Or you just listen as they figure out the next step themselves.

I’m glossing over the fact that my 25 years of teaching means I’ve got a ton of good options and disability-specific strategies that kids are often grateful to use. But I'm glossing over that, because, for parents, it doesn’t matter. It’s not about expertise for a parent. My own kids don’t care that I’m an education expert. They need me to love them, and to listen.

Listen to the problems - often without too much added opinion- and show your kid you realllllly get it.

In reality, for most parents, this isn’t about learning a bunch of new tricks or listening skills. It’s about reducing our automatic responses, slowing down, and listening. Becoming curious. Avoiding furious.

I’m going to show you how I override my automatic responses to inquire more deeply. We’ll look at everyday problems, how to share your opinion, and how to say when you think there’s a serious issue.

Everyday Learning Problems

When problems come up, it’s time to ask questions and reflect what you see.

Don’t Dominate Your Kid When They Say Something Intense

You can find out more about what’s happening for them if you ask the right question!

Express Your Concerns Without Assuming You Have All The Answers

Share your concerns, and then listen!

These are really just conversation starters. In reality, each question sets off a complex back and forth between parent and kid, and provides many opportunities for the parent to offer ideas, feedback, and support to their kid. But at the heart of it is listening to what’s really, specifically, going on for the student. To internalize their perspective so well that your comments are empathetic and useful, and they say “yeah, that’s right.”

And you might be thinking “well, my kid is often not right!” For example, kids might unfairly blame a teacher, be unwilling to address a learning disability, let anxiety keep them from trying useful strategies, be rude to other kids at school, or self-sabotage in a number of ways. And, when this dysfunction is deeply entrenched, your kind-hearted guiding questions might just provoke a sharp rebuke from the kid, or a complete shut-down. It hurts when your kid is clearly missing something, causing themselves and you frustration and harm.

You might be right that your kid is doing something “wrong.” It doesn’t really matter - you still need to inquire about how the student sees the universe, and the problems they face. We’ve already learned that everyday and fancy words are dangerous when we remove students from their own story and decide what’s happening for them. So even if they’re in the wrong, the first step is to see what they see. And the next step is to nudge them to tune into a deeper truth, and decide to make a change. Any change they make is more likely to succeed than one you impose.

But you’re probably not right. Usually, when parents think their kid is “doing it wrong”, the parents are missing something. There’s an important point the parent is ignoring. And that is why inquring, listening deeply, and getting to know your kids internal world is how to do right by them. Without this, you risk misunderstanding your kid’s situation, and harming them further by imposing your understandings on their problems.

Kids don’t easily forgive being misunderstood, nor should they, as it imposes harm that can take a lifetime to unwind.

So - at the heart of helping kids is using language that empower them. From that, we can see the interplay between everyday and science words, and how they might each be useful.

I balance ‘everyday words’ and ‘fancy terms’ when talking to kids about their learning disabilities by following these rules of thumb

1. Start with everyday words until there’s a reason to use fancy words (They’re easy to use and understand)

   • the problem is directly related to the LD - “I want to read but the words are swimming on the page”

   • the kid thinks of themselves in terms of their disability “Mom, I have ADHD, I can’t do well at school”

   • you have a insight you want to offer “Kid, I think your NVLD is making it hard to do these graphing questions, what do you think?”

2. When there’s a reason to use fancy words, use them lightly, and as a source of suggestion. (They’re easy to use oppressively)

   Important exception: when your kid needs medical treatment for their physical or mental health, it should not be a suggestion. This is meant for matters of learning and school.

   • “Your processing speed is slow, so you might need more practice to ace the math test. Should I get you a tutor who knows how to tutor kids like you?”

   • “Sorry your depression is acting up today. Don’t worry about studying. Wanna watch a movie with me? Sometimes it helps to hang out with people who love you!”

   • “I understand why you’re so frustrated with school. You’ve been trying so hard! I want to talk to your teacher about having assignments where your strengths are properly valued. What do you think?”

3. Ask questions about thier labels instead of telling them what the label means. (Listen and respond. No automatic responses).

   • “How is reading at school? Do you feel the dyslexia is affecting silent reading time?”

   • “What’s class like? Is it easy to control your attention or hard?”

   • “Dang. Sorry you’re so anxious today. What happened in your mind during the test?”

Here’s the final secret. It’s not really about what you do. It’s what you avoid. So to finish I’m going to share the top 5 things I try to NOT DO. Whatever remains after you avoid these things - as long as it’s real and authentic - will probably be just fine.

#1 - DON’T use a service or intervention the student doesn’t want.

I don’t work with a student unless they fully agree to work with me; no parent can sign them up. If a student says no, forcing them into a treatment is likely to make it worse. It’s not that you can’t strongly advocate - actually, it’s your job to advocate kindly and offer lots of useful options. But - in most cases it needs to be a conversation that brings agreement, first. Labels become most oppressive when they lead to non-consentual treatment.

#2 - DON’T communicate on behalf of the student to a teacher, counsellor or psychologist, without their permission.

There are exceptions - e.g. someone is discriminating against or harassing your kid, or you have a responsibility to respond. But in most cases, I ask kids if I can intervene on their behalf. You might be surprised how often they say yes! If you want to talk to a teacher on their behalf, make sure they know what you’re going to say, and ask them if there’s any boundaries they want respected. Importantly, make sure you use the right language - if your kid is expecting accomodations for ADHD, use the langauge of ADHD; if your kid wants the teacher to treat them with more respect, use the everyday language of human relationships.

#3 - DON’T leave the kid to figure out their label themselves or trust the experts to work it all out for them.

When your kid is a private person, or they find you too stressful to talk to, it’s tempting to leave it to them - especially if it seems like they have “got it all together”. But your responsibility to open a non-threatening conversation is still there. Using your kid’s language is a key way to open up conversation, so that, when they do need you, the trust and history is there. To start, use the words they use.

#4 - DON’T insist on using phrases and fancy words that the kid doesn’t use or finds oppressive.

If your kid hates the label ADHD, don’t use it, except when it’s absolutely necessary (e.g. an IEP meeting with the teacher). Instead sub in everyday words like “paying attention” and “staying focused.” Forcing a label on someone will make it harder to see the value in the label, and everyday words can do lots of the work. If you leave it alone, they’ll bring it up in due time (if you’re actually safe to talk to about it).

#5 - DON’T focus on ‘fixing’ school performance so much you forget what really matters for this kid

If every mention of a student’s special needs is about them doing well in school, you’ll teach the kid that their learning disability is all about school. But learning is way bigger than school. Their way of processing the world impacts everything they do. And, outside of school, it might be their biggest strength. A kid who is gifted and has an output disorder might thrive with complex work, with other neurotypical people, and thrive in a specific type of project.

Make sure you’re focusing on all those incredible things your kid brings to the world, and your spend your resources on making sure their fullest potential is reached, in and out of school.

It’s important to think through all the parts of the issue. But in the end, it’s simple. Here’s what I’ve learned.

💡 I can use both everyday words and science words with kids who have learning disabilities.

💡 I like that everyday words are easy to understand and often empower kids to make choices and pursue goals. I like that Science terms are specific and reflect a wealth of knowledge that can be used to help a kid with their specific problems..

💡 But, whenever I’ve used these terms without inquiring as to the student’s experience, it’s taken away a student’s power, made them worse at school, and made life less enjoyable. If I’m flexible and respond to what a kid is really saying and feeling, there’s lots of science and everyday words that will resonate with the kid.

💡 When I focus on avoiding the most common errors, and I bring a kind, open, student-based approach, then we can work together to build a student-specific language and way of working. And we can include everyday and science terms in a way that makes sense to both of us.

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