# Inclusivity On Display - The Yellow-Hat Dilemma.

## The Yellow Hat Dilemma

**_.... Just because the idea is nice..._**

The auditorium had that low, restless, sweaty hum it always gets on a sunny December afternoon. Parents packed into rows, shuffling and murmuring, carrying memories from years before whether they wanted to or not. Even as adults, small town schools are always a bully-glance from terror... We were sitting there with them, hearts thumping harder than felt reasonable. Surely no-one could notice..?

It was the local primary school's end-of-year concert. One of those events that's meant to be pure celebration. Pride. Smiles. Phones held up too high.

And for the most part, it was exactly that.

But underneath it, there was a tension I couldn't quite name at first. As the acts rolled on, something felt off. Then the teacher appeared at the side of the stage. Instead of lining the kids up like the others had, she wheeled out a large, bright trampoline. The room paused. You could feel it. A few whispers slipped out as you'd expect...**_ What's happening? Why the trampoline?_**

The kids gathered at stage rear, buzzing with that mix of nerves and excitement. And then our son was led out by two volunteers. He didn't look toward the audience. His attention drifted elsewhere, to the trees beyond the stage, to the open sky. He wandered, stumbled a bit. Almost tipped the trampoline right off the stage before the music had even started. The room seemed to sink a little.

He was wearing a bright yellow cap. A t-shirt with a cartoon Snoop Dogg on it, complete with an unmistakable herbal joke that probably didn't land the way someone thought it might for a primary school. He _stood out instantly._ Not because he wanted to. The whole setup made sure of it.

The music kicked in. Early '90s hip-hop, great beat and tight choreography. The other kids launched into a tightly rehearsed Kris-Kros routine. Twenty-five bodies moving as one. It was impressive, like a real standard above what anyone could expect!. And yet, no one was really watching them. All eyes kept drifting back to our son, trying and failing to stay in step with something that clearly wasn't built for him.

I just don't know, if around us, parents shifted and exchanged looks. My world started to cave in. There were no questions.. but thoughts, quiet but heavy. Is this inclusion? Or is this a performance of some kid _who can't? _ it felt cruel. As his parent I wondered why he couldn't have just watched, or participated in a way that actually suited him..

For four long minutes, the squirm got bigger with every mis-fire of intention. I held breath. What was meant to be inclusive started to feel like a wobbly pedestal startled by spotlight of struggle. Not celebration, certainly not 'belonging'.

Later, as we walked away, the teacher's words earlier, as we dropped him of to prepare, echoed back to us. 

**_'We want every child to feel like they belong.'_**

I believe that intention was real. But that afternoon, belonging somehow got confused, the stakes got raised as it came apart, with being put on display. And instead of seeing a child for who he is, the room was left watching what he couldn't be.

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