Unmasking Inclusion: Reclaiming Neurodivergent Childhoods in Scandinavian Early Childhood Education

Abstract

Inclusion is a central value in Scandinavian early childhood education (ECE), yet everyday practices often reflect norms of school readiness and developmental conformity. This position paper argues for a shift toward neurodiversity-affirming inclusion, an approach that challenges deficit-based views and emphasizes the importance of accommodating diverse developmental profiles, especially for autistic children and others with neurodevelopmental differences. We trace the evolution of inclusion in Scandinavian ECE, identifying both strengths and persistent tensions. We then review international discourse on neurodiversity, inclusive terminology, and rights-based education. Finally, we propose a conceptual model for neurodiversity-affirming inclusion grounded in values of acceptance, flexibility, and environmental design. We offer actionable implications for research, preschool practice, teacher education, and policy. Our aim is to foster dialogue and innovation by bridging inclusive Scandinavian traditions with emerging global perspectives that center the voices and rights of neurodivergent children.

Inclusion has long been a defining feature of early childhood education (ECE) in Scandinavian countries, underpinned by values of equity, participation, and universal access (Einarsdottir & Wagner, 2006; OECD, 2017). Yet as understandings of human diversity evolve, so too must our conceptions of what inclusion means—and for whom it is designed. In the case of neurodivergent children, including those who are autistic or have other neurodevelopmental differences, “being included” often entails adapting to environments that were not created with their sensory, communicative, or cognitive profiles in mind. This raises a fundamental question: What does it mean to include neurodivergent children in ECE—really include them—not merely in presence, but in practice, values, and design?

This paper critically reflects on current inclusion practices in Scandinavian ECE, arguing that despite structural strengths, inclusion is often shaped by implicit norms of developmental conformity and school readiness (Broström, 2017; Broström et al., 2018). These norms may unintentionally marginalize children whose ways of communicating, playing, or engaging with the world differ from neurotypical expectations (Cook, 2024). Drawing on international discourse around neurodiversity, inclusive pedagogy, and disability justice, we propose a shift toward a neurodiversity-affirming model that centers acceptance, environmental flexibility, and identity-affirming practices.

This call is especially urgent now. Diagnostic rates of autism and other neurodevelopmental differences are rising across many countries, including in the Nordic region (Jensen de López & Thirup Møller, 2024; Lundström et al., 2015). A recent review of national registry data revealed a clear upward trend in autism diagnoses among Nordic children aged 7 to 12, with prevalence rates ranging from under 0.3% in some countries to over 3% in Iceland (UNRIC, 2024). Similar upward trends have been observed internationally, reflecting a combination of improved awareness, expanded diagnostic criteria, and increased access to assessment (Hansen et al., 2015).

Alongside these rising diagnostic rates, there is growing awareness among educators, researchers, and policymakers that traditional deficit-based models of special education (e.g., Theory of Mind deficit explanation of autistic cognition and communication; Baron-Cohen et al., 1985) are insufficient, and that inclusion must go beyond physical access to ensure meaningful participation and belonging (Florian & Black-Hawkins, 2011; Waitoller & Artiles, 2013). Accordingly, a call for abandoning the core deficit hypothesis in neurodevelopmental conditions has been made (Astle & Fletcher-Watson, 2020).

Recent scholarship emphasizes that focusing solely on individual deficits limits educational equity, and that inclusive pedagogy must center diversity, student voice, and relational belonging as core values (Donath et al., 2023; Rogahang et al., 2023). This shift has also been reflected in a push for professional development, inclusive school cultures, and policy change (UNESCO, 2021; Cook, 2024). At the same time, a global movement toward rights-based and socially just models of inclusion, informed by the neurodiversity paradigm (Kapp, 2020; Walker, 2021), offers new possibilities for transforming how early childhood settings accommodate and celebrate cognitive and developmental diversity.

The concept of neurodiversity, originally introduced by autistic scholars and advocates in the late 1990s, recognizes neurological variation as a natural and valuable aspect of human diversity (Botha et al., 2024; Singer, 1999; Walker, 2021). Rather than viewing conditions such as autism, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), or Developmental Language Disorder (DLD) solely through a clinical or deficit lens, neurodiversity emphasizes identity, collective strengths, and the role of environmental fit (Kapp, 2020; Robertson, 2010). This perspective aligns with broader inclusive education goals yet remains underdeveloped in early childhood education policy and practice, particularly in the Scandinavian context (Cook, 2024).

In this paper, we use the term neurodiversity to refer to the natural variation in how human brains perceive, process, and engage with the world (Pellicano & den Houting, 2022; Walker, 2021). We use neurodivergent to describe individuals whose developmental profiles or neurocognitive functioning diverge from dominant societal expectations. This includes, but is not limited to, autistic children, children with ADHD, developmental language disorder, intellectual disability, and dyslexia or dyspraxia (Botha et al., 2023; Kapp, 2020; Zaneva et al., 2024). These terms reflect a perspective that centers diversity rather than deficit and will be used throughout the manuscript.

This paper is structured as follows. First, we examine the historical and current landscape of inclusion in Scandinavian ECE, highlighting both achievements and limitations. Next, we review key developments in the international discourse on neurodiversity and inclusive education. We then propose a neurodiversity-affirming model of inclusion tailored to early childhood settings, grounded in principles of flexibility, affirmation, and environmental adaptation. Finally, we discuss the implications of this model for policy, teacher education, and research, and invite a reimagining of inclusion that reflects the full richness of human neurocognitive diversity.

Inclusion in Scandinavian Early Childhood Education: Ideals and Realities

Scandinavian countries are internationally recognized for their strong commitment to inclusive early childhood education (ECE) (Ginner Hau et al., 2020). Rooted in social democratic values, the Nordic model emphasizes universal access, play-based learning, child autonomy, and a holistic view of development (Bennett, 2010; OECD, 2017). Preschools in countries like Norway, Sweden, and Denmark are widely accessible, publicly funded, and typically maintain lower adult-child ratios than many other countries, supporting close adult—child relationships and responsive pedagogical practices (Størksen et al., 2024). The curriculum frameworks emphasize children’s rights, democratic participation, and social belonging—principles that resonate strongly with inclusive education ideals (Einarsdottir et al., 2015; Norwegian Directorate for Education and Training, 2017).

In this context, inclusion is often interpreted as all children attending the same setting, with a shared emphasis on social participation and group belonging (Lundqvist & Bodin, 2019). Physical integration is typically prioritized, and overt segregation is rare compared to many other countries. On the surface, this appears to embody a fully inclusive approach (Boquist et al., 2025). However, inclusion in practice often reflects implicit norms of developmental readiness, adaptability, and neurotypical behavior.

Participation in group routines, verbal communication, eye contact, cooperative play, and emotional regulation are frequently taken as markers of “successful” inclusion. Yet for children whose developmental profiles differ—such as those who are autistic, have ADHD, and/or experience sensory or communicative differences—these expectations may be exclusionary (Broderick & Lalvani, 2017). As Boquist et al. (2025) highlight, pedagogical leaders in Norwegian preschools often view inclusion through a lens of organizational and physical placement, while social and academic dimensions of inclusion receive less attention. As a result, for instance, autistic children may be physically present in the group but not meaningfully included. This tension is often rooted in school readiness frameworks that prioritize normative developmental milestones—such as verbal expression or group participation—as prerequisites for inclusion. Such benchmarks may pathologize difference and delay support, rather than prompting adaptations that embrace developmental diversity.

This discrepancy is further compounded by the way support is delivered. Boquist et al. (2025) found that support for autistic children in preschools is often reactive and diagnosis-dependent, requiring children to pass through a formal “special educational intervention chain” before accommodations are made. In the meantime, staff may lack the resources or training to implement inclusive practices proactively. Although legislation mandates special educational assistance (Barnehageloven, 2006), there is wide variation in how municipalities interpret and fulfill this responsibility. Reflecting this variation, many pedagogical leaders reported feeling professionally isolated, overburdened, and unsupported in their efforts to implement inclusion (Boquist et al., 2025). Such experiences highlight a fundamental misalignment between policy intentions and the realities of practice.

Moreover, while the Norwegian Framework Plan for Kindergartens affirms the importance of inclusion, it does not explicitly address neurodiversity. Inclusion is typically framed broadly—focusing on language, cultural diversity, or disability in general—without acknowledging the specific experiences or identities of neurodivergent children (Norwegian Directorate for Education and Training, 2017; Robertson, 2010). Consequently, pedagogical practices and environmental designs often default to a “one-size-fits-all” model that may not accommodate sensory, communicative, or regulatory diversity (Kapp, 2020).

Notably, Boquist et al. (2025) also identify promising practices. Some educators described empathetic, child-centered approaches to inclusion: recognizing children as individuals beyond their diagnoses, adapting communication using tools like augmentative and alternative communication (AAC), and fostering inclusive group dynamics by teaching all children to interact meaningfully with autistic peers. These examples point to a more environmental/contextual and relational view of inclusion. However, such approaches were inconsistently applied across settings and often relied on individual initiative rather than systemic support.

Boquist et al. (2025) also discusses the concept of the Double Empathy Problem (DEP; Milton, 2012), highlighting that communication breakdowns between autistic and non-autistic individuals are reciprocal, not one-sided. Indeed, DEP and the growing empirical evidence supporting it (e.g., Crompton et al., 2020) challenges the traditional view that the intrinsic deficits in social cognition (e.g., Theory of Mind deficit hypothesis; Baron-Cohen et al, 1985) among autistic individuals are the only reasons for communication breakdowns. Instead, communication is considered a “two-way-street,” a collaborative process, and, accordingly, recognized that deficits in reciprocity cannot lie in one communicative partner only (Gernsbacher, 2006, 2018; Kapp, 2019). Recognizing this shifts the burden away from autistic children and emphasizes the need for educators and peers to adjust their expectations and communication styles—a principle central to neurodiversity-affirming practice (Boquist et al., 2025).

In sum, while Scandinavian ECE systems offer fertile ground for inclusive practices, they remain shaped by normative assumptions that can marginalize neurodivergent children. A neurodiversity-affirming approach requires not only structural changes but also a shift in what is valued, expected, and supported in early learning environments. Rather than relying on individualized accommodations alone, inclusion must be embedded through universal design, interprofessional collaboration, and a deep respect for communicative and developmental diversity (Boquist et al., 2025; Kapp, 2020).

Neurodiversity and Inclusion: A Shifting International Landscape

In recent years, the global conversation around disability and inclusion has undergone a significant transformation. At the heart of this shift is the rise of the neurodiversity paradigm, a framework that challenges traditional deficit-based models and redefines how we understand and support individuals whose cognitive and developmental profiles diverge from the norm (Kapp, 2020). The concept of neurodiversity recognizes that neurological differences—such as autism, ADHD, dyslexia, and others—are natural variations of the human brain, not pathologies to be cured or normalized (Walker, 2021).

The neurodiversity paradigm draws from and extends the social model of disability, which locates disability not in the individual, but in the interaction between the individual and their environment (Bagatell, 2010; Walker, 2021). This does not mean that neurodivergence (e.g., autism) cannot be disabling or create support needs. Rather, when applied correctly, the neurodiversity paradigm acknowledges that conditions such as autism or ADHD are forms of difference that may still have disabling effects in certain contexts and thus require appropriate accommodations (Aitken & Fletcher-Watson, 2022; Walker, 2021).

However, neurodiversity goes further by affirming the collective value of diversity itself, challenging the idea that there is a single, correct way to think, communicate, or behave. This has led to increasing use of identity-first language (e.g., “autistic person” rather than “person with autism”) as a way of affirming neurodivergence as an integral part of one’s identity rather than a detachable impairment (Botha et al., 2023). Alongside this, scholars have also called attention to the importance of using non-ableist language in educational and clinical contexts, including avoiding terms that reinforce pathology or stigmatization (e.g., “disorder” or “symptoms”) when describing neurodevelopmental differences (Bottema-Beutel et al., 2024). In early childhood education too, language shapes how children are perceived, supported, and included. Using affirming and respectful terminology is not only a matter of accuracy, but also a foundational element of creating inclusive and rights-respecting environments.

These developments are increasingly reflected in international education discourse. For example, the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD) emphasizes full and effective participation and inclusion in society, including access to inclusive education without discrimination (United Nations, 2006). The Sustainable Development Goal 4 calls for inclusive and equitable quality education for all (United Nations, 2015), and many countries have adopted national strategies aimed at increasing educational participation for neurodivergent learners (Hehir et al., 2016). In parallel, the growing field of critical autism studies has challenged prevailing clinical narratives, centering the voices and lived experiences of autistic people in research and policy design (O’Dell et al., 2016).

In education research and practice, these shifts have begun to influence how inclusion is conceptualized. Neurodiversity-affirming practices prioritize environmental modifications, flexible pedagogies, and relational approaches that support diverse learners without expecting them to conform to neurotypical norms (Alcorn et al., 2024; Armstrong, 2012; Kapp, 2020). In early childhood education, this might include offering sensory-friendly spaces, incorporating visual communication supports, adapting group activities, and validating diverse forms of expression and social interaction.

However, this discourse remains unevenly adopted across contexts and is still emerging in many national early childhood frameworks. In Scandinavian ECE policy, the neurodiversity paradigm is largely absent, and inclusion continues to be guided by generalized principles that do not always translate into practices that are meaningfully inclusive for neurodivergent children (Boquist et al., 2025). As such, there is a pressing need to bridge this growing international conversation with local ECE systems—leveraging both global insights and Scandinavian values to move toward more equitable, responsive, and affirming early learning environments.

Toward a Neurodiversity-Affirming Model of Inclusion in ECE

A neurodiversity-affirming model of inclusion in early childhood education (ECE) begins with a fundamental shift in how we perceive and respond to developmental differences. Rather than positioning neurodivergent children as needing to “catch up,” “fit in,” or “overcome deficits,” this model emphasizes belonging without conformity and promotes learning environments that adapt to the child—not the other way around (Broderick & Ne’eman, 2008; Walker, 2021). It recognizes that many of the challenges neurodivergent children face are the result of mismatches between their needs and the structures, expectations, or sensory demands of typical preschool settings, rather than inherent deficits within the child (Goodley, 2014).

While our model emphasizes values of universal design, identity affirmation, and relational flexibility, we do not foreground differentiated instructional techniques in the traditional sense (e.g., tiered tasks, ability grouping, or scaffolded learning objectives). This is not to suggest that differentiation is unimportant—on the contrary, it remains a key element of many inclusion frameworks and can support active learning for children with diverse needs. However, our focus is on rethinking inclusion at the level of environmental expectations, relational norms, and communicative accessibility (e.g., Lyons et al., 2022), particularly for children whose needs are not well supported by conventional pedagogy. By centering neurodiverse ways of engaging with the world, we emphasize design-level changes that create space for diverse developmental trajectories and neurocognitive functioning. Future work could explore how differentiated instructional strategies might be effectively aligned with a neurodiversity-affirming approach.

As previously noted, we define neurodiversity as natural variation in human neurocognitive functioning and use neurodivergent to describe individuals whose developmental profiles diverge from neurotypical norms. The neurodiversity-affirming model centers the inclusion of both neurodivergent and neurotypical children. Its core principles, such as relational flexibility, interest-based pedagogy, and universal design, can benefit all children by fostering responsive and inclusive learning environments. The model is not only about improving participation for a specific group, but about reimagining early childhood education in ways that affirm diverse developmental pathways and neurocognitive functioning.

Core Principles of a Neurodiversity-Affirming Model

We propose that the Neurodiversity-Affirming model for ECE is grounded in the following interrelated principles:

Acceptance and Affirmation of Neurodivergent Identities

Inclusion is not just about accommodating difference but affirming it. Neurodivergent children should not be required to camouflage or mask by mimicking or hiding their neurodivergent traits to be considered “ready” for preschool life (Kapp, 2020; Walker, 2021). Identity-first and non-ableist language (e.g., “autistic child”) is one way to recognize neurodivergence as a valued aspect of human diversity (Botha et al., 2023; Dunn & Andrews, 2015). Affirmation also means embedding positive representations of neurodivergent individuals in stories, classroom materials, and interactions (Webber et al., 2024). Educators play a key role in validating children’s identities by responding to their needs with curiosity and respect rather than judgment or pathologization.

Environmental and Relational Flexibility

A neurodiversity-affirming model emphasizes changing the environment rather than the child (Broderick & Ne’eman, 2008). The environmental flexibility includes adjusting noise levels, lighting, activity structure, group size, transitions, and communication demands to reduce stress and increase accessibility. The relational flexibility implies increasing understanding of, and embracing diverse communication styles, and taking responsibility to communicate effectively with neurodivergent children. This approach challenges educators to look beyond compliance-based expectations. Flexibility involves actively noticing what enables a child to feel safe and regulated and adjusting routines and expectations accordingly.

Multiple Pathways for Communication, Play, and Participation

Traditional models of social participation often center spoken language, eye contact, and cooperative play. A neurodiversity-informed approach recognizes that stimming, parallel play, visual supports, or scripted language may all be valid and meaningful forms of engagement (Kapp, 2020; Robertson, 2010). Likewise, not making eye contact must not be confused with not being interested or attentive (see Gernsbacher & Frymiare, 2005). Children may demonstrate engagement through actions such as echolalia, object-focused play, or movement-based communication, which should be interpreted within their own developmental logic. Recognizing these diverse modes of engagement and interaction expands educators’ definitions of participation and belonging.

Interest-Based and Child-Led Pedagogy

Honoring children’s special interests—often dismissed as “obsessions” in clinical and educational discourse—can become a powerful way to engage neurodivergent children in learning, communication, and connection (Kapp, 2020). This aligns well with Scandinavian ECE’s broader emphasis on play and child agency. From a neurodiversity perspective, these focused interests are not incidental but often reflect deeper cognitive styles. According to Monotropism theory, many autistic individuals have a cognitive tendency to focus their attention deeply on a limited number of interests at a time, which can enhance engagement, learning, and emotional regulation when these interests are supported (Murray et al., 2005). Rather than seeing narrow interests as barriers to inclusion, a monotropism-informed pedagogy recognizes them as pathways into meaningful connection, learning, and self-expression (see also Dawson et al., 2008 discussing learning in autism).

Collaboration with Families and Communities

Parents and caregivers often have deep insight into their child’s sensory profile, regulatory needs, and communication style. Educators can co-construct inclusive strategies in partnership with families and, where possible, with neurodivergent adults or neurodivergent advocates (Hodge & Runswick-Cole, 2008; Ryan & Runswick-Cole, 2008). Such partnerships should be dialogic and strengths-based, not driven by attempts to “fix” the child. When educators center family expertise and engage neurodivergent voices, they develop more contextually relevant, sustainable, and respectful practices.

Universal Design for Inclusion

Rather than creating individualized exceptions, the neurodiversity-affirming model promotes universal practices that benefit all children. For example, visual schedules, sensory corners, flexible seating, and options for quiet play support a wide range of learners—neurodivergent and neurotypical alike (Baglieri & Shapiro, 2012). Universal design anticipates variability as a norm, not a deviation, and builds proactive scaffolds into the environment. This reduces the need for reactive accommodations and promotes dignity, autonomy, and equitable access to participation for all children.

Illustrative Practices

Below we provide some examples of ways that educators and institutions can translate these principles into action. These examples are intended as practical entry points to applying neurodiversity-affirming principles in the classroom. While some practices may also appear in other approaches or paradigms, their use within the current model reflects a commitment to autonomy, flexibility, and contextual and relational understanding.

• Introduce sensory-friendly spaces that children can access independently, without needing adult permission. Such spaces might include quiet corners with soft lighting, noise-canceling headphones, and tactile objects like weighted blankets or fidget toys. These features can reduce sensory overload and increase accessibility for children with hypersensitivities—particularly autistic children, who frequently experience sensory processing differences that significantly affect daily functioning (Morgan, 2019). Within a neurodiversity-affirming approach, these adaptations are not viewed as therapeutic add-ons but as essential components of inclusive design that promote autonomy, agency, comfort, and well-being (Wood, 2018, 2019).

• Provide alternative communication supports (e.g., visual symbols, sign language, AAC devices) as part of universal design, not only for children with identified communication needs. Educators can model AAC use during group time using printed visuals or simple yes/no boards, allowing all children to engage and express themselves in varied ways. Consistent use of AAC in general education classrooms—especially when implemented by a collaborative team—has been shown to improve not only the communication of students with AAC needs but also their academic engagement and peer interaction (Hunt et al., 2009). From a neurodiversity-affirming perspective, honoring multimodality by not prioritizing spoken language and, instead, modeling AAC use for all learners promotes communicative equity and recognizes diverse modes of expression as valid and valuable (Bottema-Beutel et al., 2024).

• Use visual schedules and timers to increase predictability. Displaying a photo-based daily schedule at eye level helps children anticipate transitions, while sand timers or visual countdowns can ease anxiety around shifting activities. Visual schedules have been shown to support engagement, autonomy, and task completion for students with a variety of support needs (McDonald, 2021). Within a neurodiversity-affirming approach, such tools are used not to enforce compliance but to create accessible routines that reduce cognitive load and respect different ways of processing time, transitions, and uncertainty.

• Offer interest-based group activities, allowing for different levels and types of participation. A child fascinated by dinosaurs might co-lead a group digging activity or create a display table with books and figurines for peers to explore. Interest-based activities have been shown to increase engagement and peer interaction for autistic children in inclusive settings (Watkins et al., 2018), particularly when structured to reflect individual preferences (Wood, 2019). A neurodiversity-affirming approach encourages practices that enhance intense interests instead of pathologizing them to support authentic motivation, honor cognitive preferences, and create socially meaningful roles for all children without requiring conformity to neurotypical social styles (Koenig & Williams, 2017).

• Adjust expectations around group participation, recognizing that some children engage best in parallel or observational ways. For example, a child might prefer to sit near a group during story circle and observe attentively without actively joining in verbally or physically. This form of participation, often referred to as parallel play, is not only developmentally appropriate for some children but also particularly common among autistic children. Holmes and Willoughby (2005) found that in naturalistic classroom settings, autistic children were most frequently observed engaging in parallel-functional play, often alongside peers but without direct interaction. These observational and adjacent forms of engagement should be seen as valid ways of participating, especially in inclusive early childhood environments.

• Practice co-regulation and emotional modeling rather than emphasizing compliance. For example, when a child becomes dysregulated, an adult might sit nearby and model calm breathing—prioritizing connection over control. As Moreno et al. (2016) explain, co-regulation involves temporarily sharing regulatory responsibilities to support emotional and cognitive development. This relational scaffolding helps children gradually internalize self-regulation.

• Reduce reliance on “normed” assessments or school readiness checklists that do not account for neurodivergent trajectories. Instead of focusing solely on whether a child can count to ten or write their name, educators might document how the child communicates, solves problems, or expresses curiosity in their own ways. For autistic children in particular, foundational skills such as social communication, emotional regulation, and adaptability to new environments are often more predictive of a successful school transition than pre-academic milestones. As research by Larcombe et al. (2019) shows, both parents and therapists consistently prioritized these competencies over fine motor or academic skills, emphasizing the need to reframe school readiness around individualized strengths and contextual supports rather than normative benchmarks.

Cultural Fit with Scandinavian Values

Importantly, many of these practices align with the broader Scandinavian ECE ethos, which already values child autonomy, emotional security, and play-based pedagogy (Broström, 2017; Einarsdottir & Wagner, 2006; Samuelsson & Carlsson, 2008). A neurodiversity-affirming model does not require abandoning these traditions—it builds on and advances them. Yet it also highlights the need to recognize that not all children access learning and social life in the same way. For inclusion to be truly meaningful, environments must affirm, rather than try to neutralize or obscure, these differences (Nordic Council of Ministers, 2016; OECD, 2017). This model invites educators to move from a stance of tolerance to one of affirmation, from inclusion by proximity to inclusion by design, and from a focus on accommodating children with special needs to a practice of celebrating diverse ways of thinking and learning.

Implications for Policy, Teacher Education, and Research

Shifting toward a neurodiversity-affirming model of inclusion in early childhood education (ECE) has wide-ranging implications—not only for day-to-day preschool practices, but also for the policies, training structures, and research priorities that shape the early years system as a whole. To embed this model meaningfully into Scandinavian ECE, changes must occur across multiple levels.

Policy Implications

While inclusion is a formal goal in Scandinavian ECE policy frameworks, the concept is often treated as a generalized principle rather than a targeted commitment to the needs and rights of specific groups. A neurodiversity-affirming approach requires that inclusion policies move beyond access and placement to explicitly address participation, identity, and environmental adaptation for neurodivergent children.

Key recommendations include:

• Explicit recognition of neurodivergent identities and needs in national and municipal ECE policy documents.

• Development of guidelines for sensory-friendly and communication-accessible environments in preschools.

• Integration of Universal Design for Learning (UDL) principles into ECE standards and quality frameworks.

• Funding and infrastructure support for inclusive design, staff collaboration, and co-regulation approaches, rather than relying primarily on individual assistants or remedial supports.

In short, inclusion must be reframed not as a child-level outcome, but as a system-level responsibility.

Teacher Education and Professional Development

Preschool teachers and assistants play a central role in shaping children’s daily experiences of inclusion. Yet many educators report feeling underprepared to work confidently and affirmingly with neurodivergent children—particularly those whose ways of communicating or engaging challenge traditional expectations.

Teacher education and in-service professional development should:

• Include comprehensive training on neurodiversity, including identity-first terminology and non-ableist perspectives, sensory profiles, co-regulation, and alternative communication strategies.

• Challenge ableist assumptions about “normal” development and support critical reflection on bias and behavior expectations.

• Promote inclusive and collaborative models, where neurodivergent adults and advocates, including neurodivergent educators contribute to training and curriculum design.

• Encourage the use of reflective pedagogical tools (e.g., observation journals, inclusive planning templates) to identify and address environmental barriers.

Building educator confidence in neurodiversity-affirming practice is not just a matter of knowledge transfer—it also requires space for dialogue, experimentation, and shared inquiry within teams.

Implications for Research

Finally, a shift toward neurodiversity-affirming inclusion also calls for a rethinking of research approaches in early childhood education. Much of the existing research on autistic and neurodivergent children in ECE has focused on individual-level interventions, often measuring success in terms of increased conformity to neurotypical norms. Future research should prioritize:

• Studies that examine environmental fit, participatory design/co-creation of knowledge, and inclusive pedagogies.

• Strengths-based and rights-based approaches to evaluating outcomes.

• Meaningful inclusion of neurodivergent voices—both adults and children—through participatory, qualitative, and co-produced methods.

• Longitudinal studies examining how early inclusion experiences shaped by affirmation and flexibility influence later outcomes in well-being, learning, and identity development.

By realigning research priorities with the values of neurodiversity, the field can support the development of early childhood practices that are not only inclusive in structure, but truly equitable and empowering in spirit.

Conclusion

Scandinavian early childhood education is globally recognized for its inclusive ethos, universal access, and child-centered philosophy. Yet, we argue these strengths alone are not sufficient to ensure meaningful inclusion for neurodivergent children. While most neurodivergent children are physically present in ECE settings, their full participation and well-being often depend on their ability to adapt to environments that are shaped by neurotypical norms and expectations. True inclusion cannot be measured by presence alone, but by the degree to which children can authentically be themselves, engage in ways that reflect their natural modes of engagement, communication and regulation, and feel that they belong without needing to mask or conform.

The neurodiversity paradigm offers a compelling alternative to deficit-based and assimilationist approaches to inclusion. It invites educators, researchers, and policymakers to move beyond viewing difference as a problem to be solved, and instead toward designing learning environments that embrace cognitive, sensory, and communicative diversity as part of human variation. In the context of Scandinavian ECE—where values of equality, democratic participation, and holistic child development already hold strong cultural sway—this shift does not require abandoning existing ideals, but rather deepening and expanding them.

A neurodiversity-affirming model of inclusion demands rethinking not just practice, but also policy, professional learning, and research paradigms. It calls for collective responsibility: from governments that set inclusive standards, to teacher education institutions that shape professional mindsets, to researchers who define what “success” means for neurodivergent children. Most importantly, it challenges us to center the voices and rights of the very children we aim to include.

Inclusion in the early years is not simply a matter of logistics or placement—it is a moral, pedagogical, and relational commitment. To fulfill that commitment, we must ensure that all children, including neurodivergent children, are not just physically included, but truly welcomed, understood, and valued for who they are.