Words Matter: How Casual Language in Classrooms Shapes Who Belongs
- Bronwyn Jane Hammond
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
This post exists because of something I recently read in a Queensland teachers’ Facebook group.
A teacher had asked for advice about working in a special school. In response, an educator with 23 years of experience commented words to the effect of:Don’t do it - you’d be better off in a “normal” classroom.
Those words stopped me in my tracks.
As a parent, it is deeply confronting to see children like mine- and families like ours-positioned as something other than normal. As a teacher and educational advocate, it was troubling to see language that is exclusionary, dismissive, and culturally harmful shared so casually, and endorsed without challenge.
This isn’t about attacking one person. It’s about pausing to examine how the words we use-often without thinking-shape beliefs, expectations, and belonging.
Because language in education is never neutral
What Do We Mean When We Say “Normal”?
The idea of a “normal classroom” sounds harmless on the surface, but when we unpack it, it raises uncomfortable questions.
Normal according to whom? Which students fit that definition-and which don’t?
Does “normal” imply:
Students who sit still?
Students who learn the same way, at the same pace?
Students without disability?
Students without trauma?
Students with stable housing, food security, and privilege?
Students who are white, middle-class, neurotypical?
Every child-and every teacher-enters a classroom carrying life experience, culture, identity, strengths, challenges, and needs. The notion that there is a single, neutral “normal” ignores this reality and quietly centres one group while marginalising others.
For many communities -disabled people, neurodivergent students, First Nations families, culturally and linguistically diverse communities, students affected by poverty or trauma-the word normal has historically been used as a weapon, not a descriptor.
Why This Language Causes Harm
Language doesn’t just describe classrooms- it defines them.
When educators refer to:
“Normal classrooms”
“Mainstream kids”
“Those students”
Or suggest that special education is where things are “easier” or where students belong when they don’t fit elsewhere
…it sends powerful messages.
To students:
You are a problem to be managed
You don’t quite belong here
You are an exception, not part of the whole
To families:
Your child is tolerated, not valued
Advocacy is inconvenient
Difference is something to be moved away, not supported
To other teachers:
Inclusion is optional
Difficulty equals misplacement
Responsibility ends when things get hard
This framing doesn’t just harm disabled students- it weakens the entire culture of education
Special Education Is Not the “Easier” Option
The idea that teaching in special education “doesn’t get easier” -or that teachers should avoid it because it’s too hard -reflects a misunderstanding of both inclusion and expertise.
Special educators work with:
Complex communication needs
Trauma-informed practice
Sensory regulation
Behaviour as communication
Intensive collaboration with families and specialists
That is not lesser work. It is highly skilled, deeply relational, and profoundly important work (my hats off to all of my sons teachers, your all amazing!!!)
And crucially-the existence of special education does not absolve mainstream settings of responsibility
The Quiet Curriculum: What Students Learn From How We Speak
Students are always listening.
They learn who belongs, who is valued, and who is considered “too much” not just from policy, but from tone, labels, and off-hand comments.
When exclusionary language is normalized among educators, it inevitably finds its way into classrooms - and into peer interactions.
This isn’t about being politically correct. It’s about psychological safety, dignity, and belonging.
Inclusive Practice Starts With Inclusive Language
The good news? Language is one of the easiest adjustments we can make — and one of the most powerful.
Small shifts matter.
❌ “Normal classroom”
✅ “General education classroom”
❌ “Those kids”
✅ “Students with additional support needs”
❌ “They can’t cope”
✅ “The environment isn’t meeting their needs yet”
These changes don’t lower standards.They raise humanity.
A Final Reflection
Inclusion doesn’t begin with funding models, diagnoses, or paperwork. It begins with how we speak.
The words educators choose shape culture, expectations, and belonging-often long before any formal support plan is written.
If we want classrooms that truly include, we must first unlearn the language that quietly excludes.
Because there is no such thing as a “normal” classroom-only classrooms full of humans, all deserving of respect, support, and dignity.
Teacher Reflection Checklist: Language & Inclusion
This is not about blame.It’s about awareness, growth, and professional responsibility.
Take a moment to reflect honestly:
Language Awareness
☐ Do I ever use the word “normal” to describe a classroom or learner?
☐ Do I refer to students as “those kids”, “mainstream kids”, or similar groupings?
☐ Do I speak differently about students with disability when they are not present?
☐ Would I be comfortable if a parent heard the way I speak about their child?
Beliefs & Assumptions
☐ Do I view inclusion as part of my role, or as an added burden?
☐ When a student struggles, do I first question the child-or the environment?
☐ Do I assume some students “belong” elsewhere when things become difficult?
☐ Do I equate challenge with failure rather than complexity?
Impact on Students
☐ Could my language influence how peers perceive a student?
☐ Could my words signal to a student that they are tolerated rather than valued?
☐ Do I actively model respectful, inclusive language for my class?
Professional Practice
☐ Do I challenge exclusionary language when I hear it in staffrooms or online spaces?
☐ Do I seek to understand disability, neurodiversity, trauma, and culture-or avoid it?
☐ Am I open to unlearning language I was trained with or grew up hearing?
Commitment to Growth
☐ Can I replace deficit-based language with strengths-based language?
☐ Am I willing to pause, listen, and learn-especially from families and lived experience?
☐ Do I recognize that inclusion is ongoing work, not a destination?
Final Prompt for Educators
If a student or family never remembers your lesson content,but remembers how your words made them feel-what would you want them to remember?

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