Recently in Adelaide, I had the opportunity to speak to educators and school leaders about a topic that is becoming increasingly important in both education and community life: neurodiversity and its place within Islamic education. The presentation, Neurodiversity and Tarbiyah: Reframing ADHD and Autism in Islamic Schooling, explored a simple but powerful idea: before we attempt to correct behaviour, we must first understand the learner.

For many educators, a child immediately comes to mind. Bright. Capable. Full of potential. Yet remembered more for behavioural difficulties than academic strengths. Too often, a child’s story is written by what we see on the surface rather than by what lies underneath.

As a paediatrician, I regularly meet children whose behaviour has been misunderstood. Not because parents or teachers lack care or commitment, but because behaviour is visible while the factors driving behaviour are often invisible.

A student who appears inattentive may be struggling with working memory. A child who seems oppositional may not have fully processed the instruction that was given. A learner who appears disengaged may be experiencing sensory overload or emotional overwhelm.

This was one of the central messages I shared in Adelaide: when behaviour changes meaning, responses change. If our interpretation is wrong, our intervention is likely to be wrong as well.

One of the most useful ways to think about behaviour is to think of it as communication. What educators see are the visible behaviours: calling out, fidgeting, refusal, or disengagement.

Beneath the surface may be challenges with executive functioning, emotional regulation, sensory processing, or social communication. Like an iceberg, the most significant factors are often hidden from view.

Importantly, this conversation is not simply about educational practice. It is deeply connected to Islamic principles. During the presentation, I reflected on three concepts that should guide every educator and parent: Rahmah (compassion), Karamah (human dignity), and Amanah (trust and responsibility).

Every child deserves to be treated with dignity. Every child entrusted to our care is an amanah. Compassion does not mean lowering standards. It means helping learners meet those standards in ways that recognise their needs and abilities.

For centuries, Islamic education has understood that teaching is about more than transferring knowledge. The concept of the Murabbi describes an educator who nurtures the whole person. This responsibility can be viewed through four interconnected dimensions: Tarbiyah (nurturing development), Ta’lim (teaching knowledge), Ta’dib (developing character), and Tazkiyah (supporting personal growth). Neurodiversity is relevant to all four.

Tarbiyah begins by asking, “Who is this learner?” before asking, “How do I correct this behaviour?” Ta’lim asks whether a child can access the learning being offered. Ta’dib reminds us that behaviour should be understood before it is corrected. Tazkiyah encourages us to  focuson growth and progress rather than comparison with others.

The concept of neurodiversity recognises that human brains develop differently. Differences in attention, communication, learning, emotional regulation and sensory processing are all part of normal human variation. This perspective moves us away from a deficit model and towards a model of understanding and support.

ADHD, for example, is often reduced to hyperactivity. Yet many of the most significant challenges relate to executive functioning: planning, organisation, working memory and task initiation. I often describe executive function as the brain’s air traffic controller. Many children know exactly what they are supposed to do. Their difficulty lies not in knowing, but in coordinating the steps required to do it successfully.

Similarly, autism cannot be understood through stereotypes. Autistic learners differ enormously in their communication styles, sensory experiences, strengths and support needs. Curiosity, rather than assumption, remains one of the most important qualities an educator can possess.

One example that resonated strongly with educators in Adelaide was the idea that the same classroom can be experienced very differently by different students. Noise, movement, visual displays and constant stimulation may be manageable for some learners but overwhelming for others. What appears to be behavioural difficulty may, in reality, be sensory overload.

Another important lesson involves emotional regulation. By the time we observe a meltdown, a child has often travelled through a series of stages, from regulation to stress, then overwhelm. Effective support begins long before the crisis point. As educators and parents, our role is not simply to respond to the meltdown but to recognise the warning signs that came before it.

Perhaps the most important slide in the presentation was titled Common Misinterpretations. We often describe children as lazy, defiant, rude, disengaged or inflexible. Yet behind those labels may lie overwhelm, difficulty processing information, communication differences, cognitive overload or a need for greater predictability. The behaviour may be real. Our interpretation may not be.

For Islamic schools, these insights have practical implications. Some learners may require additional processing time, visual supports, clear routines, movement opportunities or help with organisation. These adjustments are not special treatment. They are good educational practice. As I reminded the audience in Adelaide: Rahmah is not lowering expectations. Rahmah is helping children reach expectations.

The presentation concluded with a question I believe every educator, parent and community leader should ask: not “What’s wrong with this child?” but rather, “What does this child need from me right now?”

When we understand a child differently, we teach differently. When we teach differently, participation changes. And when participation changes, futures change. Tarbiyah, at its heart, begins with understanding the learner. Sometimes the most important moment in a child’s education is not what we teach, but how we choose to understand them.