You Belong Here

The poster we hung above her bed when we upgraded her room to be more befitting of a growing teenager says “You Belong Here”. I knew I wanted it for her as soon as I saw it, and yet there was also a second guess when I thought about its different meanings. You BELONG here, is of course what I was going for, but what about the alternate emphasis on the “here”? You Belong HERE and not out there in all the places you can imagine yourself taking up space? Then, primed for it with my wonderings, I started seeing the word “belong” everywhere, all the time. “Everyone Belongs”, “We All Belong” in children’s book titles, conferences themes, hats, tote bags. Even C’s high school logo/motto, includes “Belonging” as one of its four tenets. But what does it mean, truly, deeply, to belong, and how does C, in particular, experience it?

“Worthiness is about love and belonging, and one of the best ways to show our children that our love for them is unconditional is to make sure they know they belong in our families.” – Dr. Brené Brown

C is fifteen and has a developmental disability that includes intellectual disability. She will likely sleep in her newly redecorated bedroom with the poster stating she belongs in our family home for many, many years to come. A feeling of belonging is not a given in anyone’s family of origin, and we want her to have that feeling and to never question it, when she is at home. But also, she has a right to feel belonging in other spaces that are not HERE, this room, in this house. Just as we all want to, and in fact have a human NEED to, find spaces of affirming community outside of our home. And it starts with school.

“…Fundamental to inclusion is cultivating a felt sense of belonging – an intimate and emotional experience of being safe, known, respected, and at home, and a rooted connectedness to one or more groups, spaces, or places.” – Shanon K Phelan, Paige Reeves

When we first visited the public school annex where C would attend from kindergarten to grade 4, we were greeted with the welcoming smile of the administrative assistant, who told us “I can see that she belongs here, that this would be a great school for her.” This school of 100 students showed us that a sense of belonging and community can be fostered in the school system, and we were grateful.

At this first school, C was included in a myriad of ways, usually without a single word from us. She was a lunch monitor, helped with announcements, participated in choirs and concerts with meaningful roles, attended cross country practices and meets where she was assisted by a teacher and I was able to just watch from the sidelines. There were no differences between the opportunities given to C and those given to her peers. There were expectations for learning and participation, with the support that may be needed for that to happen, for all of the students equally. She was seen as someone who added value to the school community just like everyone else. She belonged, without question.

“…Fitting in is one of the greatest barriers to belonging. Fitting in is about assessing a situation and becoming who you need to be in order to be accepted. Belonging, on the other hand doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are.” – Dr. Brené Brown

We knew that when we moved to the next, bigger elementary school it would be impossible to replicate the feeling of community we had in C’s first years of school. There was less creativity and passion when it came to inclusion, and there did not appear to be an inherent belief that she would be a part of everything without my pestering to make it so, without my silent presence reminding her “You Belong Here”. She was in the marimba concert because I sat in the middle with her while she played her bell. She ran cross country and track alongside others in her age group because I was running by her side at practices and meets. It wasn’t a given that she would do these things and that support would be provided to make it happen. We made it happen anyways.

C’s photo was in the Grade 7 leaving ceremony slideshow a couple of times, just her by herself. Not side by side with pals or linked arms with classmates. Not dressed up for a fun activity at grade 7 camp or engaged in some sort of silliness at lunch. Just her, with her iPad mini (her talker) and a big smile. There were strong pangs of loneliness watching this and processing where we had arrived. She was one of two visibly disabled students out of 70 grade sevens. She was known of around the school, but not fully KNOWN. This felt hard and lonely to me, but how did it feel to her? Did she feel her sense of belonging slipping away, like I did? Or, was this a matter of me seeing her not fitting in, feeling what that feels in my body, and confusing the feeling with not belonging? How did it feel to her to go through those years?

There have been many opportunities for me to observe C’s responses to being on the outside of social situations, or “not fitting in”, one of which came near the end of her grade seven year. “We’ll probably run into your classmates returning from Playland” I told her. “See classmates” she repeated. And sure enough, as we walked towards her music therapy appointment, there they were. Coming towards us in a great swell, some arm in arm, chatting, looking quite pleased to have had a day at the fair on rollercoasters and ferris wheels and all the other rides. I thought to myself how it might look confusing to see us walking in the opposite direction. I wondered if any of them noticed that she had left only a couple of hours into the field trip, after standing up at the top of the ferris wheel and scaring her EA half to death, then deciding she was finished with Playland and wanted to go home. I wondered if they thought she looked out of place, moving in the opposite direction to them. I wondered if she felt she belonged with them and not alongside her mom, once again, this time on our way to her music therapy session, an hour that eased her nervous system, and mine.

She doesn’t seem to desire to be what everyone else is, to fit in, which allows freedom, but I still wonder. When we walk against that crowd of peers, who are laughing and chatting, having spent the day at the fair because that is what THEY love to do, is it only me that feels a twinge of not wanting this difference? She seems just as happy as can be when she arrives at her destination, despite how it differs from where her peers are going. We all need belonging but ‘fitting in’ is not it. She is not looking to fit in with peers in their neurotypical way, but when does she feel she belongs?

“Real systemic change requires relationship across difference.” – Kerry Cavers

I recently delved deep into our school district’s marketing for their “Mini School” programming. These are programs considered ‘schools within schools’ at the high school level, designed for a select group of students. The website says the purpose of these programs is “to provide selected students with the best education possible so that they can reach their intellectual, personal, social and career potential”. One can hazard a guess as to the profile of the approximately 1400 students who apply for 500 spaces in these programs each year. The application process is vigorous and as one parent I know said, akin to applying to university. Successful applicants must meet a certain academic standard – the suitable students “are able to work at an above-average or Proficient level, are highly motivated and would benefit from a learning environment with highly motivated peers”.

Each of the 18 Mini School programs advertises on the school district’s website, and some do so with smartly-edited videos. In the videos, various students describe one Mini School as “a place where I belong”, a place where “I can be myself” and have “opportunities to grow” and “like what we’re doing”, where students can make “friends to grow old with” and have a “sense of community”. I read these descriptions and watched these videos with fascination. Isn’t this what every student wants and deserves? Can we strive for every neighbourhood high school to hold this type of atmosphere for all of their students? Have we decided it is impossible and can only be done on a small scale for these 500 students who can meet the established criteria to fit in to small classrooms of like-minded students matched in motivation and proficiency? Is a sense of belonging determined by the size of a group? Is it only possible to cultivate belonging, community and ultimately academic and personal success when we make a school miniature? And what about learning to be yourself among groups of people that might not be like you? How do students who have chosen coveted places of sameness learn to be in relationship with those who are different in ability?

“Radical inclusion subverts inclusion as assimilation. Instead, it values variation-celebrating disability identity and harnessing its generative potential. This includes valuing both mainstream and congregated spaces as possibilities for cultivating inclusion and belonging” – Shanon K Phelan, Paige Reeves

In our school district, high school students with intellectual disabilities and their families do not get to make informed decisions about school placements where they will feel most valued, where they will find the company of people who enjoy them and whom they enjoy being around. If they could, perhaps they would choose their neighbourhood school, alongside the students they have learned with all through elementary school. Perhaps they would choose another school because it has a particular program, such as dance or film, that they would like to explore. But they do not get to make such a choice because, when it comes time for high school, students with intellectual disabilities are assigned to Life Skills programs of the district’s choice. These programs differ from one another in the level of freedom and support they allow for students to explore other spaces in the school where they might find belonging, but there is one thing they all seem to have in common. While the highest of learning expectations can be found in the Mini Schools of our district, it is safe to say that some of the lowest of expectations for learning and success are in the Life Skills classrooms. And this is where the district has decided that students with intellectual disabilities belong.

Apart from the offensive practice of lowered educational expectations, it is an outdated, discriminatory practice to assume that all people with intellectual disabilities will feel the most belonging when they are among others with intellectual disabilities. It is a sorting imposed upon humans because they share a disability, not based on their own chosen places where they decide that they feel the most belonging.

We all make choices about who we want to spend time with, and more often than not, we seek out affinity groups where we can find things in common with one another. We’ve all experienced the high school social categorization that happens as we start to build our identity based on our preferences of band or academics or sports or drama. It is also natural to find ourselves drawn to those who share other parts of our identity, like disability, race, or neurodivergence. Affinity groups are a natural and comfortable place to find support and friendship, and so we choose to be in these groups, often. C’s best/only friend shares a disability identity with her and also similar activity interests and that just makes sense. But how do we make progress with understanding and having empathy for those who are not like us if we never put ourselves in groupings where we are learning alongside and from those who are different from us?

Limiting opportunities to build relationship and learning across differences is just one more reason why agency in accessing belonging slips away as kids like mine get older. Making assumptions about where they belong and limiting their choices of the spaces they can find belonging can sabotage their opportunities now and for the future. Advocating for inclusion is not just advocating for access to education, but also, and perhaps more importantly in the long term, access to opportunities for belonging.

“People generally feel safe when they experience a sense of belonging to an affirming community. As opposed to feeling we are amongst strangers, our nervous systems generally feel safe when we are surrounded by people who we know and who know us.” – Jacqueline Ravel

We talk about belonging as a “sense” or a “feeling”. Senses and feelings are incredibly personal and only known by others when we both choose to communicate them and also have the capacity to do so. C does this in her own way and her way does not have fine-tuning of scale. One extreme might be a need to flee when her nervous system detects danger, and the other is her desire to stay, stay, stay despite being told she must move along, that this activity is over. This is the best scale we have for judging her feeling of belonging and comfort in any given space.

One place she has established over the past year as one that she is driven to return to and hates to leave is the dance studio in her high school. In her grade nine year, she was enrolled in one general education class, and it was dance. Finally, in my efforts to understand what belonging means to her, there is this window into all of it. On a stage in a high school auditorium.

“Belonging is being part of something bigger than yourself. But it’s also the courage to stand alone, and to belong to yourself above all else.” – Dr. Brené Brown

She walks on, stage right, and finds her spot. She will stay in the spot for the entire performance, while her classmates step-touch, shuffle-ball-change, and jazz run past and around her. Occasionally her arms dart out or up, or her knees bend a couple of times in quick succession. She is dancing. She leaves the stage with the group, having covered very little square footage but seemingly satisfied nonetheless with her performance. She has decided that this is where she belongs, despite her challenges with body awareness and imitation, and despite the fact that she sticks out as the one who mostly stands still while the others move, groove, tap and twirl.

She has decided she belongs here and I believe it is at least partly because of a dance teacher who calls her the best part of her day. A dance teacher who welcomes her as “a wonderful addition to our dance classes”. She can feel this welcoming from the adult in charge as everyone, teacher and students included, moves and stretches their bodies mostly in sync while continuing to stretch their beliefs about who belongs in a dance studio and on a stage. Stretching effectively, whether it be your body or mind, requires consistent practice.

“Just know you’re not alone, because I’m gonna make this place your home” – Phillip Phillips

The first time I cried hearing the lyrics to “Home” by Phillip Phillips, I was watching C with her fellow elementary school choir members performing the song. She was flanked on either side by peers who held her hands. She wasn’t singing (apart from a random shout out here and there), but she was held and appreciated for being there just as she was.

The second time I cried hearing this song was when it played as C walked down the aisle for her grade seven leaving ceremony. She walked single file, following the other students, and my tears did not stem from attachment to the school or the people she was leaving. I was crying because I recalled that choir concert at her first school and grieved the gradual loss of what we had there. But also, I was building my deep understanding that it was me who ultimately supported her to find places of belonging at that school and she would always have us, her family, as her home, regardless of outside circumstances.

We retain a hope and drive for C to feel at home in her learning environment over the next few years, in whatever classrooms she decides to venture into. But we are also watching the snail’s pace of progress in creating a system of inclusive education where students learn about welcoming diversity and creating spaces of belonging from kindergarten all the way through to grade 12 and even beyond. Where they learn from teachers who deeply understand that places of belonging invite difference and a building of relationship through what might be initial discomfort and uncertainty. Living and learning in diverse communities isn’t always convenient and comfortable but we need to learn how to do it, however imperfectly, at as young an age as possible, and then continuously, perpetually, as we move through all developmental stages, right into and through adulthood. That is how we build the communities we need.

What I have learned through my own various stages of discomfort through the school years thus far is that we can make a place feel like home through an inherent belief that everybody is welcome (and will be supported) to exist in the space exactly as they are. But there must be actions undertaken that support that belief wholeheartedly, at the very minimum by at least one adult who believes that they can be a home to any and all who are in search of belonging. Even then, it is up to the folks in those spaces if they feel like they belong. It is up to C, and her nervous system, and her understanding of who she is and what she wants from the spaces she enters.

When C confidently walks onto that stage for her dance performance I am in awe of her confidence and wonder where it stems from. Having explored the topic of belonging for months now, I am starting to see the thru-line. Yes, she was lucky to have early positive experiences in a school where she was supported to show up exactly as she was. This is the foundation that led her to expect spaces of belonging everywhere, and to seek them out when they were not offered readily. And also, I think the confidence comes from always having a steady place of belonging at home, with her family. A quiet knowing that she can step onto a stage, into a new classroom, onto a field, exactly as she is and we’ve always got her.

We have you, C. You belong here.

Quotation Sources (in alphabetical order)

Dr. Brené Brown, Ph.D., LMSW, from her book “Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead”

Kerry Cavers, President and Founder of Moms Against Racism Canada, from her MAR community introduction video

Shanon K Phelan and Paige Reeves, School of Occupational Therapy, Faculty of Health, Dalhousie University, from their commentary in The Lancet Child and Adolescent Health, Volume 6, February 2022 titled: “(Re)imagining inclusion to foster belonging in the lives of disabled children and youth”

Phillip Phillips, American singer-songwriter, from his 2012 song “Home”

Jacqueline Ravel, psychotherapist, in this article by Cicely Belle Blain in Ripple of Change magazine