Widening the Path: How Designing for Inclusion Strengthens Learning for All

In 2003, my husband Brian and I took our first big trip together. We wanted something more raw and adventurous than a beach or resort. We decided on a jungle trek in Thailand, one that would take us deep into the forest for several days. This wasn’t a tourist stroll or a guided nature walk. We were going to hike through dense terrain, bathe in rivers, and sleep in stilt houses alongside our guides.
We trained hard. Our coach, Dave, had us climbing endless flights of stairs with weighted packs and doing squat circuits that left us wobbly and regretting our walk-up apartment in Milwaukee. By the time we boarded our plane, we were physically strong, prepared, and full of anticipation.
When we arrived in Thailand, we met Chai and his uncle, who would be our local guides for the journey. Chai was calm, quiet, and highly skilled. He didn’t use maps or GPS. With just a worn machete and a deep knowledge of the land, he led us forward through tangled underbrush, steep inclines, and thick vines.
The jungle tested us. The humidity was overwhelming, the terrain relentless. But gradually, we became a team. We shared sticky rice around open fires, plunged into freezing rivers to bathe, and fell asleep to the sounds of the forest at night. The experience was physically demanding and profoundly grounding.
Then we hit a barrier.
We reached a trail that worked for Chai, Uncle, and me but not for Brian. At six foot four or 194 cm, he kept smashing into low branches and getting tangled in vines. He tried ducking and crouching, but it was never enough. No matter how hard he worked to keep up, the path simply wasn’t made for someone his size.
Chai noticed. Without asking questions or giving instructions, he quietly adjusted. He didn’t tell Brian to try harder. He didn’t ask him to adapt. He simply raised his machete and began cutting a wider trail. He created space where there had been none.
That moment has stayed with me for years, because it captured the essence of true inclusion. It wasn’t about helping someone “catch up” or “fit in.” It was about reshaping the environment so everyone could move forward together.
Designing for the Margins
This idea is not just theoretical. In practice, designing for the students who are most likely to encounter barriers creates a better environment for the entire class. Consider how ramps and curb cuts, originally built for people using wheelchairs, also benefit parents with strollers, travelers with rolling luggage, and workers delivering goods. The same concept applies in schools through what's called Universal Design for Learning (UDL).
UDL is a framework that encourages teachers to plan lessons with all learners in mind from the very beginning, rather than retrofitting accommodations after the fact. When teachers offer multiple ways for students to engage with a lesson, whether through hands-on activities, visual presentations, or collaborative discussions, they make it better for everyone to access the content. When visual supports are added to clarify instructions for one student, the entire class benefits from clearer expectations. Flexible seating, personalized check-ins, assistive technology, and differentiated materials often help students well beyond the original target group.
By intentionally designing for students at the margins through UDL principles, we create systems that are more flexible, more thoughtful, and more effective for all. The beauty of this approach is that it eliminates the need for most individual accommodations because the lesson itself becomes accessible to the variability of learners from the start.
To learn more about UDL, check out this excellent explanation by Dr. Katie Novak.
Building a Whole-School, Team Approach to Inclusion
A strong learning support program cannot thrive if it exists in isolation. I've seen too many schools where inclusion becomes the responsibility of just a specific group of teachers or the teaching assistants, while everyone else continues with business as usual. But the reality is inclusion isn't a department, a job title, or someone else's responsibility. It's a shared mindset that requires every single person in the building to participate.
Think about it this way: when a student needs sensory breaks, it's not just the learning support teacher who needs to understand this. The music teacher needs to know why noise-canceling headphones might appear in their classroom. The cafeteria staff should understand why a student may need to flap their arms a bit. The principal needs to support flexible scheduling. Even the custodial staff plays a role in maintaining calm, organized environments that help all students succeed.
Every classroom teacher, every support staff member, every school leader, and even the substitute teacher who walks through your doors needs to understand their role in building an inclusive environment. This doesn't mean everyone needs to become an expert overnight, but it does mean everyone needs to embrace a mindset shift.
The shift begins by asking some hard questions:
- Are our classrooms, lesson plans, and school policies truly accessible to every student?
- When a student faces barriers, do we immediately look for ways to change our approach, or do we expect them to adapt to systems that weren't built with them in mind?
- Are we collaborating across departments to share strategies that work?
- Do our faculty meetings include discussions about inclusive practices, or do we treat inclusion as a separate topic?
If we find that the trail isn’t wide enough for everyone to walk, we must be willing to clear the way.
Your Students Are Your Best Teachers
The students themselves are our most valuable source of insight. They are the ones navigating the systems we create, and their experiences can reveal where the barriers lie.
Creating a culture of feedback, where students are regularly asked what is working for them and what is not, helps us build a more inclusive learning environment. This doesn't have to be complicated. Simple check-ins like, "How did that lesson work for you?" or "What would help you learn this better?" can provide powerful insights. Some teachers use exit tickets, while others have brief one-on-one conversations during independent work.
When students feel safe to speak up, and when we genuinely listen and respond, we create schools that are more responsive and more just. The key is to follow through. If a student tells you the morning announcements are too loud and distracting, and you help them find a quieter spot during that time, you've shown them their voice matters.
Challenges illuminate the narrow parts of the path. Instead of seeing these students as problems to solve, we can view them as guides who help us build better systems for everyone.
Start Where You Are
Improving inclusive practices does not require a total transformation overnight. The idea of system-wide change can feel overwhelming, but meaningful change often begins with a single step.
Start by identifying one student who is struggling and ask yourself what barriers might be standing in their way. Make one change to remove or reduce that barrier. Notice what happens. Often, the solution that helps one student creates a ripple effect that supports many others.
Inclusion is not about doing everything at once. It is about consistently choosing to act when we see that someone cannot access what others can.
The Real Goal of Inclusion
At its core, inclusion is not about checking a box or meeting a compliance requirement. It is about dignity. It is about making a conscious choice to say, “You matter enough for us to change.” It is about building a school where every student feels seen, valued, and supported. Not just in theory, but in daily practice.
When we say “all means all,” we must be willing to stand behind those words. That means rethinking our systems, collaborating across roles, listening closely to students, and making intentional changes that widen the path forward.
We are all guides on this journey. The question is not whether there will be barriers. The question is whether we will be the ones who step forward to remove them.
Need help identifying where to start? Contact me for a consultation on creating more inclusive classroom practices.

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