.png)
“He aha te mea nui o te ao he tangata, he tangata, he tangata”
Just like clearing a fault code doesn’t fix a car's underlying issue, trying to “fix” neurodivergent children misses the bigger picture. True support comes from understanding and embracing their unique wiring.
Let us explain the ‘WHY’ of our writing: My husband was travelling to visit whānau. He got 15 kms down the road with an alarm going off and a fault code on his dash. He tried to clear the code but was unable to identify what it was, so he decided to return home. When he arrived he jumped out of the car accompanied by many expletives.
On investigation I noted that the code was the seatbelt warning, to which he exclaimed, “But I had my belt on!”. I pointed out that the pumpkin he had kindly decided to take to whānau, was so heavy, it was activating the passenger belt warning. Needless to say he moved the pumpkin, smiled sheepishly and returned to his journey. During the exchange he talked about clearing fault codes, in cars, and how sometimes they could not be cleared. This is the ‘WHY’ behind the blog.
Imagine your car's dashboard lights up with a warning. You take it to a mechanic who plugs in a diagnostic tool, identifies a fault code, and clears it. For a while, the light disappears, and everything seems fine—until it reappears because the root issue was never truly addressed. This common scenario in car maintenance can be surprisingly similar to how we sometimes approach neurodiversity in children.
When a child displays behaviours or learning patterns that are different, there's often a rush to "diagnose" and "fix" them. Labels like ADHD, autism, dyslexia, or other neurodivergent conditions can become the equivalent of a fault code. The intention is usually good but what happens when the focus shifts to simply "clearing the code" instead of understanding and embracing the child's unique wiring?
In the automotive world, clearing a fault code without addressing the underlying issue can lead to bigger problems. Similarly, when we focus solely on "fixing" neurodivergent children to fit into traditional moulds, we risk overlooking their strengths, talents, and potential. Neurodiversity isn't a fault to be cleared; it's a natural variation in how brains work. Just as some cars are built for speed and others for endurance, children are wired in beautifully diverse ways.
Traditional approaches to neurodiversity often emphasise remediation: making children conform to standard expectations. While support and accommodations are essential, they shouldn't come at the cost of suppressing what makes a child unique. For example, a child with ADHD might be encouraged to sit still and focus, what if we channeled their high energy and creativity into hands-on learning? Another example could be a child with autism might face pressure to engage in group work rather than working independently on their preferred interest. Instead, what if we celebrated their deep focus on specific interests asking them to share in a preferred way?
Imagine if mechanics approached cars the way we sometimes approach neurodiverse children: "Let's reset the system and hope the warning light doesn't come back." Most of us would find that unacceptable. Shouldn't we want the same for our children—not by erasing their differences but by understanding and supporting them?
This is where Resource Teachers: Learning and Behaviour (RTLB) play a pivotal role. RTLB work collaboratively with schools, teachers, whānau (families), and communities to support students who are neurodiverse. Rather than focusing on "fixing" the child, RTLB help identify and implement culturally responsive and evidence-based strategies that honour each child's strengths. They work to support the creation of inclusive learning environments, and empower teachers to adapt their practices. By fostering understanding RTLB help ensure that neurodiverse students feel valued and have equitable opportunities to thrive.
Embracing neurodiversity means shifting our perspective from "What's wrong?" to "What's different?" It's about collaboration, compassion, and connection. Educators, parents, RTLB, and communities can work together to create environments where neurodiverse children flourish. Instead of trying to "fix" them, we can provide tools, accommodations, and opportunities that honour their unique ways of thinking and being.
Every child deserves to be seen, heard, and valued for who they are. Clearing a fault code might be a quick fix for a car, but children aren't machines. Their differences aren't defects; they're part of the rich tapestry of human diversity. By embracing neurodiversity and utilising the expertise of RTLBs, we move from a mindset of correction to one of understanding and celebration.
Next time we find ourselves wanting to "clear the code," let's pause and ask: Are we truly helping, or are we just making the light go away? Real support means looking deeper, listening more, and loving children exactly as they are—fault codes and all.
“He aha te mea nui o te ao he tangata, he tangata, he tangata”
Comments