Dear Fellow Mom,
I want to share a story with you. One that still brings angry tears to my eyes. Not because of what happened, but because of what it revealed about the world we’re raising our children in.
It was a typical afternoon at school. One of my students, who is nonverbal and communicates through gestures and sounds, suddenly screamed out in pain. They clutched their ears, clearly demonstrating that something was wrong. I had been in the process of building a trusting relationship with them, and when they ran to me, I knew it was serious. I gently guided them out of the classroom toward the clinic.
But transitions like that? They’re tough. Leaving the safe routine of the classroom and walking into a noisy hallway is overwhelming for this student and, frankly, for most of the students I serve. They kept moving, but their anxiety showed. They screamed and resisted.
They weren’t “acting out.” They were communicating. In the only way they knew how.
And then, we passed another class. A student looked at mine, panicked and in pain, and laughed. A real, mocking laugh, followed by, “What’s wrong with IT?”
IT?!?!?!? I cried. The teacher of the laughing student rushed to apologize. She was mortified and juggling about twelve things already. Her apology was sincere, but the moment stayed with me.
I couldn’t help but wonder: What was that student learning at home? Are we raising our kids to think with compassion? To notice when someone is hurting and offer help instead of mockery? Do we take the time between soccer practice, laundry, and remembering what day of the week it is to talk about kindness?
Look, I get it. As a mom myself (someone who has sent my boy to school with two left shoes… twice!), I know how chaotic life is. But I also know this:
Inclusion doesn’t just happen. It has to be taught, nurtured, modeled. As a teacher of students with varying exceptionalities, I can tell you: WE ARE TRYING. Every single day, we teach empathy, kindness, and the idea that behavior is communication. We work to help students understand that what may look like “bad behavior” is often someone screaming with their whole body, “I need help!”
And we do this while doing everything else we do.
But we can’t do this alone. Inclusion starts at home.
It begins with bedtime talks, car ride chats, and those moments when you pause Bluey to answer your kid’s question about the child who “looked different.” It starts when we use words like “kind,” “understanding,” and “belonging” more than we say, “Please don’t stare.”
READ: How I’m Trying to Raise Kind Humans in an Unkind World
So, how can we raise kinder, more compassionate kids in a world that rushes past differences? I can tell you, it can be done, in small ways that add up to big meaning. Here are a few ways to start:
1. Talk about differences openly. Let your child know that not everyone walks, talks, or learns the same way. That’s not weird. That’s just life. Normalize diversity the way we normalize saying “please” and “thank you.”
2. Explain that behavior = communication. When a child is melting down or “acting out,” ask your kid, “What do you think they’re trying to tell us?” (This works on siblings, too, by the way.)
3. Encourage curiosity, not judgment. If your child asks, “Why are they doing that?” don’t shush them. Say, “That’s how their body works. Not everyone is exactly alike.”
4. Be their example. Let them see you hold the door open, ask how someone’s feeling, or speak up when someone’s being mistreated. Kids absorb more from what we do than what we say.
5. Saying “I’m sorry” means something. You and your kids will make mistakes. That is literally part of learning. Teach them to say, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” or “I’m sorry, I was wrong.” Great character comes from compassion and owning mistakes.
Ma’am, I know your plate is full. And the world right now is tough. But if there’s one gift we can give our kids, and the kids around them, it’s the ability to see others with compassion first. To understand that difference isn’t something to fear or mock, but something to honor.
We don’t need to be perfect. We just need to be present.
Let’s teach our children that every human has value. That inclusion isn’t “extra” — it’s normal. And that kindness is never wasted, even in the smallest of moments.
Every act of empathy we model at home ripples outward. And together, we truly can raise a generation that makes this world gentler, stronger, and more beautifully human.
With heart, hope, and love for the world,
A Teacher Who Still Believes in Compassion
Our “Dear Parent, From a Teacher” series helps parents obtain the tools and insight to ensure a successful school year for their children. If you are a teacher who wishes to write a guest blog for this series, please email your topic to [email protected].
About the Author
Meghan Schliff is a passionate special education teacher in Clay County, where she’s dedicated to helping students with disabilities shine in a world that doesn’t always make space for them. She’s also a mom of three awesome (and occasionally sticky) kids, wife to one very patient man, and dog mom to two lovable chaos gremlins. When she’s not teaching or stepping on LEGOs, she’s soaking up the community she loves, planning her next travel adventure, and quietly plotting how to make the world a kinder, more inclusive place, preferably with coffee in hand. Meghan believes that teaching isn’t just her job — it’s her calling — and that compassion belongs in every classroom, car ride, and conversation. “Be a light for all to see.” –Matthew 5:16
