Abstract
Inclusive teaching is often misunderstood as offering special provisions for a few, rather than being recognized as good pedagogical practice that benefits all learners. This Innovations in Practice article presents four inclusive teaching strategies implemented in higher education classrooms with adult learners, particularly neurodivergent and international students. Drawing on Universal Design for Learning (UDL) principles, each practice was developed in response to recurring structural challenges and learner feedback, not individual diagnoses, thereby allowing all students to access, engage with, and demonstrate learning on their own terms. The first strategy explores flexible assessment and participation formats, enabling learners to choose how they best demonstrate understanding. The second highlights the use of anonymous, low-stakes tools to surface support needs early, reducing the burden of disclosure. The third describes a peer mentoring initiative that supported cultural and academic transitions, with benefits for both mentors and mentees. The final strategy focuses on reducing power distance in the classroom by offering learners greater autonomy over how they navigate sessions and signalling that their needs are valid without formal justification. These practices have been tested across postgraduate and undergraduate modules in a UK university and are grounded in classroom narratives and learner reflections. Each intervention was designed not to respond to specific impairments but to pre-emptively remove barriers for a diverse cohort. The article concludes with practical takeaways for adult educators seeking to embed inclusive design principles in their teaching. Inclusive education, the paper argues, is not an ideological position but a commitment to effective and equitable teaching.
Keywords
“Peer mentoring offers a relational and low-risk mechanism for making implicit expectations visible, particularly for international and neurodivergent learners navigating unfamiliar academic systems.”
Introduction
The Canary in the Classroom
I have worked with employers for many years to design selection processes that were less overwhelming and more inclusive to neurodiverse people as well as helping them to redesign jobs to ensure they can be performed by people who work in different ways. After delivering training or consultations, I was often approached in hushed tones by participants who said things like, “I related to that too much…” or “Is it normal that I find those situations hard as well?” These were typically neurotypical individuals who recognized in themselves the same challenges I had described in autistic candidates: sensory overload, performance anxiety, difficulty navigating unstructured environments, and the need for routine.
It made me realize something important: we all have something that overwhelms us. Everyone is bothered by something, be it bright lights, too much time with people, unclear instructions, or noisy offices, etc. but not everyone has been given the permission or the language to name it. Autistic people, in this context, were simply more visible: more likely to be overwhelmed first, or most. But they weren’t alone. Designing accommodations for them didn’t just help a few individuals: it improved things for everyone.
This led me to rethink how I approached inclusive teaching, so it was not as a response to specific diagnoses, but as a broader move toward giving people back control over how they engage, contribute, and succeed. When learners are offered options, whether in assessment format, participation mode, or how and when they access material the whole group benefits. Stress levels drop. Confidence grows and students begin to experience learning as something they can shape, not something they must endure.
The widely used concept of autism as a canary in the coal mine offers a powerful metaphor for this dynamic, suggesting that autistic people often act as the “canaries” in toxic systems. They can alert us to environmental, social, or structural features that are harming everyone. In classrooms, autistic students may be the first to shut down in noisy or overstimulating environments. But they are not the only ones affected. Their responses offer an early warning that something needs to change. If we listen, everyone benefits.
This article outlines four inclusive practices I have used in adult education classrooms, each developed in response to the canaries. But like better air quality in a coal mine, these changes helped everyone breathe more easily.
Inclusion
Inclusion has become a contentious term in some educational and political spheres, often misrepresented as offering “unfair” advantages to a few rather than improving the learning experience for all. But in the adult learning classroom, inclusive practice is not an ideological add-on. It is the foundation of good teaching. Designing for neurodiversity, cultural difference, and a wide range of learning preferences is not about special treatment; it is about ensuring that all learners have a fair opportunity to succeed in environments that recognize their real-world complexity. Adult learning theory has long emphasized autonomy and self-direction as defining characteristics of adult learners (Knowles, 1984), yet research also demonstrates that these capacities are unevenly developed and shaped by prior educational experience, cultural context, and confidence in navigating institutional systems (Merriam & Bierema, 2025).
Drawing on my work with international and neurodivergent students, particularly those navigating university-level study without formal diagnosis or confidence in self-advocacy, this article explores how inclusive design principles create better outcomes for all learners. While the focus stems from supporting neurodivergent adults, including those with autism, ADHD, and undiagnosed executive functioning differences, the practices described benefit wider cohorts: mature students, non-native English speakers, first-generation learners, and others who may not disclose needs but still experience structural disadvantage.
The strategies presented here are drawn from postgraduate and undergraduate teaching in UK higher education and reflect an intentional move away from reactive “reasonable adjustments” toward proactive, inclusive course design. This article presents four inclusive teaching practices for adult education, each intentionally grounded in Universal Design for Learning (UDL) principles (CAST, 2018) and illustrated through classroom narrative and reflective evidence. Drawing on postgraduate and undergraduate teaching in UK higher education, the paper demonstrates how designing for neurodiversity and learner variability can improve engagement and outcomes for all adult learners, without relying on diagnosis, disclosure, or formal accommodation processes. The article concludes with concrete, transferable takeaways for educators seeking to embed inclusive design as a core feature of good teaching practice. Inclusive teaching is not political. It is pedagogical. In this piece, I argue that embedding accessibility into our course design is not about lowering standards; it is about widening access to success.
The illustrative examples and quotations used in this article are drawn from reflective teaching practice rather than from formally collected research data.
Flexible Assessment and Engagement
One example of inclusive design is providing students with multiple means of engagement and expression, as outlined in UDL. In my own practice, I moved away from a one-size-fits-all approach to assessment. Students could choose the format that best allowed them to demonstrate their understanding. For example, in an assignment where students had to reflect on their professional skills they had the option to provide evidence in many different forms: a written portfolio, a live presentation, a recorded video, or even using visual representation. In another instance, I introduced a flexible assessment structure allowing students to submit either a written report, a narrated slideshow, or a mind map with annotations. Several students opted for alternative formats, including one who used a slideshow to explain a concept visually due to challenges with structuring long-form text. Their work demonstrated deep understanding, arguably more effectively than a traditional essay might have.
This practice is grounded in Universal Design for Learning’s principle of providing multiple means of action and expression, which recognizes that learners differ in how they plan, organize, and demonstrate understanding (CAST, 2018; Rose & Meyer, 2002). In adult education, such flexibility is particularly important because learners often balance study alongside work, caring responsibilities, linguistic processing demands, and uneven prior educational experiences that shape confidence and performance. Research on UDL in postsecondary and adult learning contexts demonstrates that when assessment choices are aligned to shared learning outcomes, learner engagement and persistence increase without compromising academic standards (Meyer et al., 2025; Rao et al., 2014). Framed in this way, flexibility is not an accommodation added in response to individual need, but a core feature of inclusive assessment design that allows adult learners to demonstrate competence in ways that reflect both their strengths and real-world professional practice.
These adaptations were not made in response to a single student but were based on patterns observed across years of teaching diverse cohorts. Many students arrive in higher education from didactic systems, where they have had little control over how they learn or demonstrate knowledge. Others have had negative prior experiences due to undiagnosed neurodivergence or other educational barriers. In redesigning my module through UDL, I created a more responsive environment where all students had permission to engage in the way that worked best for them.
Another example involved asynchronous discussion boards running alongside live sessions. These gave quieter students or those who processed information more slowly a chance to reflect and contribute meaningfully. Several international students used these platforms to develop their confidence before engaging verbally.
This reframed flexibility as a normal and expected part of the learning process rather than as a special exemption for a few.
Anonymous Needs Identification
One persistent challenge in adult learning is that students often don’t know what support they need until they’re already overwhelmed. Many neurodivergent students (especially international or late-diagnosed adults) hesitate to disclose needs because they’ve internalized stigma or assume accommodations are only for others. To tackle this, I introduced two low-stakes tools to surface needs early without requiring formal diagnosis or personal risk. Within adult education, learners may be expected to self-advocate without having been supported to recognize or articulate their learning needs, particularly where previous educational experiences have discouraged help-seeking or disclosure (Merriam & Bierema, 2025). Designing mechanisms that surface needs anonymously allows educators to respond proactively to learner variability without positioning support as exceptional or deficit-based (CAST, 2018).
This approach aligns with UDL’s emphasis on supporting learner engagement through autonomy, self-regulation, and psychological safety (CAST, 2018). Adult learners, particularly those who are neurodivergent, international, or returning to education after negative prior experiences, may not yet have the language or confidence to articulate what they need in formal support processes. Anonymous needs identification tools allow educators to design responsively without requiring disclosure, diagnosis, or individual negotiation. Within adult education, where self-direction is often assumed rather than taught, such scaffolding supports learners in recognizing and articulating their own learning preferences, while also enabling instructors to normalize variability as an expected feature of the classroom rather than an exception.
First, in week one of a postgraduate module, I used an anonymous survey titled “How You Learn.” It asked questions like: • “Do you prefer to participate verbally or in writing?” • “Do you find it easier to focus with slides, notes, or audio?” • “Are there any classroom dynamics that make you anxious?”
The results helped me make subtle but meaningful adjustments, for example, ensuring alternative ways to participate, posting discussion prompts ahead of time, and offering weekly reflection slots for those who preferred written input.
Second, mid-semester, I built in a guided task asking students to draft a fictional email to their tutor explaining what helped or hindered their learning. The aim was not submission, but rehearsal. One student later told me this helped her send her first real request for an adjustment, a simple one to accommodate, that she have a seat reserved near the end of a row: something she had wanted every week but now she finally knew how to ask.
These techniques helped pre-empt crises and supported students in building confidence around self-advocacy, without putting the burden on them to initiate. Even students who didn’t identify as neurodivergent described the exercises as “reassuring,” “grounding,” and “a reminder that asking for help is normal.”
Peer Mentoring for Cultural Transitions
In one of my postgraduate modules, which is divided into four separate workshop groups, I introduced a small-scale peer mentoring initiative. The aim was to support international and neurodivergent students during their transition into postgraduate study, particularly those unfamiliar with UK academic expectations or hesitant to seek formal support.
Research in adult education highlights the significance of the hidden curriculum in shaping participation, belonging, and learner confidence, particularly for those unfamiliar with dominant academic norms or institutional cultures (Tett et al., 2006). From a Universal Design for Learning perspective, learning is understood as socially mediated, with engagement strongly influenced by access to collaborative relationships, informal knowledge, and a sense of belonging (CAST, 2018). Peer mentoring offers a relational and low-risk mechanism for making implicit expectations visible, particularly for international and neurodivergent learners navigating unfamiliar academic systems. By embedding this support within existing student communities, the approach extends inclusive design beyond individual adjustments and reframes transition challenges as structural rather than deficit-based.
Crucially, mentors were not randomly selected but drawn from students who had completed their undergraduate degrees at the same university. They already understood the cultural, organizational, and academic context, and were embedded within it. Each mentor was paired with a student from a different workshop group in the same module. This allowed the mentor to remain one step removed, close enough to empathize, but not directly involved in assessed group work. The mentors received a short briefing on boundaries, cultural sensitivity, and how to signpost support services. Meetings were informal, peer-led, and focused on surfacing the “hidden curriculum”: how to approach staff, navigate assessments, and manage expectations around participation and deadlines.
One mentee, a student from China, shared that she’d never spoken to a lecturer before arriving in the United Kingdom. Through regular chats with her mentor, she learned not only how to approach academic staff but also how to navigate the city more generally: how to get quiet study space, where to go if she needed help, how to recognize when she was overwhelmed.
Mentors benefited too. One commented:
“It was the first time I’d thought about how confusing things must be for people who didn’t grow up in this system. I also realized I’d never explained what a seminar is, or why you’d speak up. It made me a better communicator.”
Another reflected that the process helped her see her own experiences, of anxiety and self-doubt, not as personal failings but as common responses to a rigid system. One student later requested additional training in inclusive workplace practices during her HR placement, citing the mentoring experience as pivotal in developing her confidence and empathy.
Because the mentors already understood the local academic and social culture, their support was timely, practical, and realistic. This was not about providing answers; it was about helping students feel like they belonged.
Reducing Power Distance and Returning Control
One of the most powerful shifts I’ve made in my teaching practice is to actively reduce the psychological and social distance between educator and learner. Many adult students, especially those from high power distance cultures (Hofstede, 2001) or who have had difficult school experiences due to undiagnosed conditions such as ADHD, arrive in the classroom with a deeply ingrained sense of hierarchy. They have learned that the educator holds all the power: deciding when students can speak, move, or take a break. This is not just disempowering; it’s pedagogically ineffective. Adult education research consistently emphasizes the importance of respect, shared authority, and learner agency in sustaining engagement, particularly where learners have experienced prior educational marginalization or high power distance teaching environments (Brookfield, 2013). By explicitly returning control over participation and self-regulation to learners, this approach aligns with UDL’s emphasis on supporting engagement through autonomy and emotional safety (CAST, 2018).
I make a point of explicitly giving control back to learners. At the beginning of each module, I say something like: “You are adults, and you know better than I do what your body and brain need. You don’t need to ask permission to go to the toilet, get a drink, step outside, or move around. If you’re overwhelmed or distracted, you can leave and come back. You are in charge of how you learn”.
This does not result in disruption. In fact, students rarely move more than usual. But they consistently report feeling more comfortable, just knowing they can move if they need to.
I also work to decouple movement or silence from shame. If someone comes in late, I smile and welcome them without making a scene. If someone leaves mid-session, I ignore it, unless they look distressed, in which case I quietly check in later. For students anxious about being called on, I offer a subtle opt-out:
“If you’re feeling overloaded or just don’t want to speak today, you can place your palm upwards on the desk. That lets me know not to call on you”.
This small gesture communicates safety, autonomy, and respect. It also provides a way for students to stay present in class, even when participation feels too much, without needing to mask or explain. This practice aligns with UDL’s principle of supporting engagement by fostering autonomy, relevance, and emotional safety in learning environments (CAST, 2018). Adult learners arrive with established identities, prior educational histories, and culturally shaped expectations about authority, many of which can inhibit participation when power distance is high. By explicitly returning control over movement, participation, and self-regulation to students, the learning environment shifts from one of compliance to collaboration. This does not reduce academic rigor; rather, it removes unnecessary barriers that prevent learners from fully engaging with cognitively demanding tasks.
In longer sessions, such as three-hour workshops, I acknowledge the reality of attention drift. Rather than fight it, I embed natural breaks, allow physical movement, and create space for reflective tasks that did not require constant eye contact or verbal engagement. I acknowledge the energy in the room, saying things like “We all seem to be flagging, let’s change task” or having students physically get up and move around, modeling my own need to do this. Students with ADHD and those managing fatigue commented that this made participation sustainable.
These techniques take time to embed. Students from didactic or exam-driven systems often struggle to believe I mean it. It can take weeks for them to start moving freely or using the palm gesture. But the shift is worth it. One student who later disclosed ADHD told me: “It was the first time I wasn’t told off for needing to stand up. That made all the difference in whether I could focus.”
By treating adult learners as collaborators rather than subordinates, I create a space where all students, regardless of background, diagnosis, or previous experiences, can learn on their own terms. It is not lowering standards. It is removing barriers.
Conclusion: Inclusive Teaching Is Simply Good Practice
Inclusive teaching strategies, when designed with intention, are not “special” accommodations. They are thoughtful, scalable, and effective ways to support adult learners with complex, overlapping needs. While they may have been inspired by neurodivergent students, these approaches improve outcomes for everyone, in line with evidence from UDL research which suggests that practices designed to support learner variability tend to improve engagement and learning outcomes across the cohort, not only for those with identified needs or disclosed diagnoses (Meyer et al., 2025; Rao et al., 2014).
Practical Takeaways for Adult Educators
Don’t Wait for Diagnosis
Design flexibility into assessment and participation from the outset by offering structured choices (e.g., written, visual, or oral formats aligned to the same learning outcomes). This removes the need for learners to request permission to demonstrate competence differently and reduces reliance on disclosure or formal accommodation processes.
Use Anonymous Tools to Surface Learning Needs Early
Incorporate brief, low-stakes anonymous surveys or reflective tasks at the start of a course to identify how learners prefer to engage and what hinders their learning. Use the patterns that emerge to make small, proactive adjustments to teaching design, rather than responding only once difficulties escalate.
Normalize Help-Seeking and Self-Advocacy
Scaffold conversations about learning needs by embedding them into routine course activities, such as guided reflection tasks or practice emails, rather than positioning support as an emergency response. This helps learners develop the language and confidence to articulate their needs over time.
Reduce Unnecessary Power Distance in the Classroom
Explicitly return control over movement, participation, and self-regulation to learners by clarifying that they do not need permission to manage their own engagement (e.g., taking breaks, choosing when to contribute). Small, visible practices that signal trust and respect can significantly improve comfort, participation, and sustained engagement.
Footnotes
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.