A Reflection on School: Then and Now

I started elementary school in 1978. Things were different then.

Students with special needs didn't learn alongside us. They went to different schools, separate classrooms, separate experiences. At the time, it wasn't questioned—it was just the way things were.

The norm was celebrating every holiday the same way. December meant Christmas music in music class. Halloween meant costumes, parties, and games.

Everyone participated.

Or at least, that's how it looked.

But for me, it was different.

When they sang Christmas songs, I sat in the hallway.

When the class played Halloween games, I sat in the hallway.

I remember the feeling more than anything else. Not anger. Not even confusion, really. Just... being outside of something everyone else was part of.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic.

It was quiet exclusion.

And back then, no one really talked about that either.

"Normal" was one version of the world. One set of traditions. One expectation. And if you didn't fit into it, you adjusted—or you stepped out.

Looking back now as an educator and a writer, I see those moments differently.

I think about how easy it would have been to make space instead of sending someone out of it.

I think about how many kids, even now, still have their own version of "the hallway"—moments where they are physically present in a school but not truly included.

That's why this work matters.

It's why inclusive classrooms matter.

It's why representation in books matters.

It's why we pause and ask: Who is this for? And who might be left out?

Because no child should feel like participation is something they have to earn by fitting in.

They should feel like they belong—exactly as they are.

And maybe that's why I write the stories I do.

Because I know what it feels like to be just outside the door.

And I want to create worlds where kids don't have to sit in the hallway to feel respected