Listening to disabled educators: rethinking difference and deficit in FE

By Angie Fantis, Teacher of Psychology at BHASVIC and Research Further Scholar

This week, Donald Trump claimed that people with learning disabilities, such as dyslexia, should not be president, implying that dyslexia makes someone a less effective leader. While shocking, the comments were not surprising.

Remarks like this reflect a much deeper and long-standing way of thinking about disability. The idea that dyslexia limits someone’s capability is rooted in a medical model of disability, which focuses on what is perceived to be “wrong” with an individual, placing the difficulty within the person as a deficit to be managed or overcome.

In contrast, the social model and perspectives from Critical Disability Studies, consider how barriers are created by systems, policies, and environments, rather than by a difference, such as dyslexia, itself. While the social model highlights how society can exclude people by failing to accommodate difference, Critical Disability Studies go further, showing how ideas of “normality,” are socially constructed and maintained, shaping who is recognised, included, or valued in society.

When deficit-based ideas persist, they don’t remain theoretical. They are reflected in comments in the media, whether in high-profile political statements, or in more seemingly subtle claims by prominent scientists that autism is “over diagnosed” or “too broad”. They also echo in comments that disabled people hear in ordinary, everyday interactions. These narratives and ideas shape who is considered legitimately disabled, and by extension, who is seen as capable in society.

As an autistic educator, and someone who was diagnosed with dyslexia last week, at the age of 47 (the very same day the US president’s comments were released) these debates feel particularly personal. They make you reflect on your place in the world, in education and on how you are truly viewed and valued.

As part of the AoC Research Further programme, I’m exploring experiences of inclusion in FE for both staff and students, with a particular focus on disabled experiences. While research on disabled students is more common, work focusing specifically on disabled staff is still rare. Yet there is growing interest in this area, recognising that understanding how disabled educators experience their workplaces is essential if we want inclusion to be meaningful across the sector.

This matters particularly in FE. FE colleges and sixth forms are rightly proud of their inclusive ethos for students. Most students regardless of difference or disability are welcome and catered for within FE classrooms and systems. But what is considered less is how inclusion is experienced by staff, particularly those who are disabled. When assumptions about difference are framed as deficits, they shape not only how staff feel about themselves but also the opportunities they are offered, who feels confident to progress, and whose voices are heard in decision-making.

Supporting and hearing the voices of disabled staff isn’t just about equity, it’s about creating environments where different ways of thinking, communicating, and problem-solving are genuinely valued, not treated as problems to fix. By recognising and supporting disabled educators, we make visible the full range of talent within our institutions.
When students see teachers and leaders who share aspects of their identity, whether it be dyslexia, ADHD, autism, or anything else, it sends a powerful message: difference is not a barrier to achievement in our institutions.

This is what truly challenges comments like those made this week. Not just disagreement, but visibility, of disabled educators who are already teaching, leading, and shaping education every day.

But visibility doesn’t happen by accident. It requires intentional action: accessible pathways into leadership, mentoring and professional development, and active recognition of the contributions of disabled staff.

If we are serious about inclusion in FE, it cannot stop with learners. It must extend to staff and leadership. If inclusion in the classroom doesn’t reach the staffroom, can we really say we are inclusive? And in doing so, we show, clearly and confidently, that dyslexia, autism or any other form of difference does not limit what you can achieve. Not in the classroom, not in leadership, not in the White House and certainly not in life.