Let Us Not Wait for Readiness. Let Us Build It.

What if readiness isn’t a starting point—but a result?

Neurodivergent children deserve to exist fully.

In all spaces.

At preschool library story time—even if they shift in their seat or flap their hands while others sit crisscross and quiet.

In mainstream classrooms—even if they need extra time, support, or breaks.

At piano concerts—even if they pace at the back of the hall to regulate while still soaking in every note.

In high-pressure workplaces—even if they don’t mirror social norms or join every lunch table conversation.

They’re not just allowed in.
They have a right to be there.

But often, we’re told something different.
We’re told to wait.

“Maybe once they can sit through it.”
“Maybe after they learn to self-regulate.”
“Maybe when they’re more social, more verbal, more calm.”

Maybe. Later. Someday.

But here’s the truth:
If we wait for every checkbox to be ticked—
We will always be waiting.

Let me share a personal story—one that shaped this belief.

With my son, we didn’t wait for readiness.
We built it.

Not by pushing him in recklessly.
But by supporting him into it—step by step, moment by moment.

In our case, it was the mainstream classroom.

He didn’t walk in “ready” by traditional standards.
But we didn’t expect him to.

We built scaffolds. We partnered with teachers.
I reviewed lessons at home, helped him co-regulate, coached the adults around him.

And he grew—not because the setting was perfect,
but because he was given space to try, to adapt, to belong.

But I need to name something, too:

Every family’s story is different.
Not all systems say yes.
Not all spaces support like they should.
Some parents advocate tirelessly—and are still met with barriers.

So this isn’t about one path or one kind of success.

It’s this:

Our kids don’t need to earn their place in the world.
Their right to belong doesn’t come after they become easier to include.

Inclusion is not a reward.
It’s a value.
It’s a choice we make as a community.

If you’ve ever been told your child isn’t ready—
That they should sit this one out, or wait until next year, or until they change—

Please hear this:

You don’t have to wait for readiness.
You can start building it now.

Not alone. Not perfectly.
But with care. With support. And with belief.

And we’ll keep building it—
At story time.
In classrooms.
At concerts.
In workplaces.
In every space they deserve to belong.

And in the next post, we’ll walk through what it actually looks like to build readiness—
With scaffolds, support, and belief. One moment at a time.