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I am a neurodivergent literacy teacher. It still takes bravery for me to say that. Not many people understand neurodiversity, and disability in general, as a multidimensional, constantly evolving color wheel of identity, describing a plethora of experiences, and not as a shameful label. Therefore, it is difficult to convey the message that I want to communicate to students when I call myself neurodivergent: that you can be successful and disabled, happy and disabled, complex and disabled, human and disabled.
So often, disabled and neurodivergent children do not see themselves represented in the people who teach and care for them, or as part of the curriculum they are immersed in every day at school. Reflecting on the value of disability representation in children’s literature is crucial to the practice of inclusive educators. If we do not critically examine the books we are sharing, we are robbing our disabled students of valuable mirrors: books they can see themselves and those similar to them existing authentically. We are also robbing our non-disabled students of crucial social-emotional lessons about acceptance, inclusion, and power dynamics.
As a literacy teacher, I want my students to see high-quality books that feature disability as something natural, complicated and, above all, worthy of acceptance. Unfortunately, I am continually met with books that tell children that in order to exist in this world as disabled, you need to be “inspirational”; books that pander to the neurotypical, able-bodied gaze and portray disability as something to merely tolerate or even eradicate; books that ignore how disability intersects with other identities; books written by non-disabled authors who have no idea what it is actually like to be disabled.
Children must learn that disability is both beautiful and mundane. Disability is difficult partially because society has made it difficult to be someone with a disability. Disability hurts sometimes, but it can also draw us closer to each other and to neglected parts of ourselves. Conversations about disability should be a rallying cry for trying to understand each other and our own bodies better in this hyper-individualistic world where so much divides us.
Fortunately, there are children’s books about disability that speak to their lived experiences. And when we do find books that portray disability in an accurate way, it is up to teachers to foster anti-ableist values and create classroom culture centered around respect, justice, and access. DSP and CSP are essential, both in terms of the content we teach and how we teach it. These books should not just be used in one lesson, read-aloud, or even unit, but used across the year and curriculum as part of a larger exploration of identity. We should emphasize honesty, nuance, and deep inner work around assumptions and biases by asking, “What else could be true?” When teaching about disability as a social justice topic, teachers must make the “why” explicit: every human is worthy of love and understanding. And good literature, as well as good teaching, help us get there.