The Quiet Crisis in Inclusion - Who Is Supporting the Adults?

 Inclusive education has progressed significantly in recent years. Classrooms are more diverse, conversations are more open, and the language of inclusion is now part of everyday practice. We speak confidently about differentiation, accommodations, individual education plans, and wellbeing.

Yet alongside this progress sits a quieter reality, one that is rarely addressed.

Who is supporting the adults who are expected to make inclusion work every day?

Across schools, inclusion is often carried by a small group of people: SENCOs, inclusion teachers, learning support assistants, and classroom teachers who care deeply and give consistently. They advocate, adapt, reassure, de-escalate, problem-solve, and reflect, often all at once. Much of this work happens behind the scenes, emotionally and quietly and over time, that quiet weight begins to take its toll.

The Invisible Labour of Inclusion

Inclusion is not only technical work; it is deeply relational. It involves constant emotional regulation, not just for students, but for adults as well. Educators support families navigating uncertainty, guide colleagues through complex decisions, and remain calm during moments of heightened need. They celebrate small wins while navigating systemic constraints such as limited time, competing priorities, and increasing expectations.

This emotional labour is rarely acknowledged. It does not appear in timetables or role descriptions. Instead, it is absorbed informally, often under the assumption that those working in inclusion roles can simply manage. Many educators do not experience fatigue because they lack commitment. They experience it because they care deeply, for extended periods, without structured support.

When Support Becomes an Expectation, Not a System

In many schools, inclusion relies heavily on goodwill. Dedicated staff step in, stay late, and “make it work” because they believe in what inclusion stands for. While this commitment is admirable, it becomes problematic when goodwill substitutes for systems.

Phrases such as “You’re amazing, you’ll manage” are usually offered with appreciation, yet they can unintentionally signal that ongoing support is unnecessary. Competence should not lead to isolation. Passion should not replace protection.

Professional development is frequently offered as a solution, but training alone is not sufficient. Without coaching, mentoring, and time for reflection, even well-trained educators can feel overwhelmed. Sustainable inclusion requires more than knowledge; it requires structures that allow adults to apply, reflect, and grow with support.

This shift does not demand radical reform. It begins with intentional decisions how time is allocated, how conversations are held, and how responsibility is shared.

The Emotional Cost of Always “Coping”

There remains an unspoken expectation in education that resilience means coping quietly. Many educators hesitate to voice their challenges for fear of appearing incapable or negative. Others worry that acknowledging difficulty may be misinterpreted as a lack of belief in inclusion itself.

Acknowledging challenge does not weaken inclusive practice. Ignoring it does. When adults feel unsupported, inclusion risks becoming reactive rather than reflective. Decisions are made under pressure, creativity narrows, and emotional fatigue builds. Over time, those most committed to inclusion may begin to question whether their efforts are sustainable.

This is the quiet crisis, not a lack of care, but a lack of care for the carers.

Reframing Inclusion as a Shared Responsibility

Sustainable inclusion depends on shared responsibility. It cannot rest with one role, one department, or one individual. Inclusive practice strengthens when responsibility is distributed across teams and supported by leadership at every level.

This involves moving beyond recognition toward practical action:

• protecting time for collaboration and reflection

• offering coaching alongside accountability

• building mentoring relationships rather than expecting self-sufficiency

• valuing learning support staff as professionals with expertise

• normalizing conversations about emotional load and wellbeing

When educators feel psychologically safe, they are more willing to reflect honestly, try new approaches, and seek support. That safety is not accidental; it is intentionally created.

Caring for the People Makes Inclusion Possible

Inclusive education is ultimately about belonging. That sense of belonging should extend beyond students to the adults who support them every day. When educators feel heard, seen, and supported, inclusion becomes more than a set of practices, it becomes a shared commitment. When adults are given the space to be reflective, human, and supported, they are better positioned to create learning environments where students can thrive.

Sustainable inclusion cannot depend on quiet sacrifice or individual goodwill alone. It requires systems that care for the people who carry it forward. Perhaps the most important question schools can ask is not “How inclusive is our practice?” but “How supported are the people making inclusion possible?”

Ultimately, when schools invest in the people behind inclusion, they create environments where both educators and students can thrive. And that is where meaningful inclusion truly begins.


By Rabia Shunaid Khan
SECON and G&T Coordinator
American School of Creative Science, Dubai