Disability Inclusion

I think most people want to do the right thing and be kind to others. It can be hard though when you don’t know how to interact with someone. Disabilities can show up in all kinds of ways. Physical differences, unusual mannerisms or behaviors, facial differences, medical equipment, and more. Here are some ways to include those with differences, to be kind, and to teach your children to be kind.

Don’t Stare, Just Ask

I can’t tell you the number of times I heard a parent scold their child for staring at Declan. And I get it. He was different.

He had accessories (trach and g-tube). His eyes were sewn halfway shut. He couldn’t move his face or talk without putting his hand over his mouth for certain letters (it’s hard to make an ‘m’ or ‘b’ sound without being able to close your lips for example). He flapped his arms and spun in circles and squealed. We always teased him for walking like a drunken sailor. He was a goof.

What I know most parents of disabled children (and many disabled people themselves) will tell you though, is: please don’t scold your child for staring. While no one wants to be stared at, we also don’t want your child to be afraid or to pretend the disabled person doesn’t exist. Instead of scolding, we wish you would redirect. Say something like “are you curious? Why don’t you say ‘hi’ and ask questions?”

The sentiment on this varies a little within the disability community- but not much. Some people don’t want to get into details, but they’ll generally just tell you that if that’s their preference. The majority of the disabled people and parents that I have met will say the same thing. Just ask.

If you can ask kindly, the response will generally be very favorable. You might learn something. The disabled person might feel seen. And we all might be a little closer to living in harmony, with true inclusion.

Don’t Avoid

At playgrounds or indoor parks, I often saw parents steering their children away from Declan. I don’t think they were trying to be rude or hurtful. I think they were afraid their children might hurt him.

But keeping him out of unsafe situations was my job, not theirs.

I knew where he was, what he was doing, and who was around him. He usually had a nurse nearby as well. Declan usually just wanted to be around other children. He felt included when he could be in the action, watching.

People were often afraid of Declan- afraid of hurting him, or of doing something wrong. Yes, he was fragile. But his fragility came from his respiratory status, not from breakability.

Trust the caregiver - or the disabled person themselves - to know what they need to avoid. Don’t assume distance is the safest or kindest thing.

Invite

In the same way that we don’t want to be avoided, being invited can be incredibly inclusive.

Inviting Declan to tag along, even if he couldn’t fully participate in an activity, mattered. He loved being with other kids, hanging out, and observing.

At the same time though, I didn’t want people to feel like they had to invite him. An invite for his twin didn’t need to automatically equate to an invite for Declan. They had different friends and different worlds. And that was OK.

Inclusion doesn’t mean every disabled person must be folded into every single plan. It means thinking about what would make them feel considered and welcome - and not automatically assuming they don’t belong.

Don’t Ask Them to Hide

People with disabilities or differences deserve the same basic respect and visibility as anyone else.

I’ve seen parents in support groups share that their child was asked to eat in a private room because they use a feeding tube instead of eating by mouth.

Declan was often asked to go to a private room to be suctioned. I pushed back on that, hard.

Do we send a child to a private room if they have to cough?

Suctioning doesn’t aerosol secretions into the air and risk airborne exposure to germs the way coughing does. Logically, Declan being suctioned in public settings was safer and more considerate than allowing a child to cough in that same setting.

Asking disabled people to be hidden away so others don’t have to witness their differences isn’t about safety. It’s about comfort—and whose comfort we’re prioritizing.

Separate Doesn’t Mean Excluded

The US Department of Education disability inclusion partly means that “students with disabilities must be placed in general education classes to the maximum extent appropriate.” Most parents of disabled children agree with this in theory. The problem is in the implementation.

What does “appropriate” actually mean?

Before we moved to Minnetonka and were in the St. Louis Park school district, Declan sat through gen-ed math, reading, history, and other portions of the day. It was a waste of time for him and distracting for the other children.

When we moved to Minnetonka and he enrolled in the Harbor program, he thrived.

He still participated in gen-ed for things like music, art, and homeroom. But for academics, he was with other children who also needed additional support. He was no longer distracting the gen-ed kids. He was actually getting something out of his time. He was learning. And he loved it.

“Separate” can sometimes be more inclusive when it’s about access, support, and dignity—not about hiding disabled students away.

The Bottom Line

Inclusion isn’t just ramps and laws. It’s everyday choices:

• Don’t scold your child for noticing someone who’s different. Help them say hello.

• Don’t steer your kids away out of fear. Trust that the caregiver knows the limits.

• Invite, when it makes sense. Don’t force it when it doesn’t.

• Don’t ask disabled people to disappear so others can stay comfortable.

• Remember that sometimes separate spaces and supports are what actually allow full participation.

Most of us won’t get it perfect. But we can keep trying. And our disabled kids—and adults—deserve at least that much.