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A quick guide to help you find what you’re looking for:
About Me Start here if you want to know who I am, what I do, and how all the threads of my work and interests tie together.
(Dis)ability Posts on disability, access (and why we should say dignity instead!), lived experience, and the practical realities of navigating systems as a disabled person.
Policy Research My work on human factors, implementation gaps, and how institutional policies can be designed to actually function in real life.
Teaching Materials, reflections on pedagogy, and resources from my teaching practice.
Training and Coaching Workshops, tools, guidance, and applied methods for organisations and individuals.
Personal Everything else — mines, planes, movement arts, cave rescue, and the occasional muddy adventure.
The 5 T approach has been designed to support supervisors and personal tutors for neurodivergent students, it is part of DSN’s training. (And works as well for other disabilities or line managers of disabled/neurodivergent staff!)
In the following paragraph you will read about each of the 5 Ts. There will always be a “Why” section first, that will give you the reasoning and background to the T in questions, followed by a “How” section, that gives you concrete ideas and tools to use. So, why do we always start with “why”? We want to enable informed and aware action. Understanding and knowing allows for empathy, and it empowers you to develop your own ideas and tools, tailored to your own circumstances.
Talk
Have an open conversation about your professional relationship, work, studies, and about how to have conversations.
(Print off a useful checklist here that will guide you through the Talk!)
Why?
The one sentence you will hear again and again in inclusion and disability work is “Nothing About Us Without Us”. As a minoritised group, disabled people are often spoken about but not to. While those who discuss inclusion without actually including a disabled person may mean well, they deny us agency and thus equality. Almost all disabled students/staff have experienced that. Having the conversation about how to best support them without them is not only denying them agency, it’s robbing yourself of a very powerful resource, i.e. someone who has managed the student’s neurodivergence for about 20 years: the student/staff member!
Many disabilities and especially forms of neurodivergence come with communication styles and needs that are different from what you might be used to. These differences may be purely due to disability and/or neurodivergence or due to cultural and linguistic differences, or both. That is not a bad thing and diversity is precious, but to avoid misunderstandings and misinterpretation of the other person’s action, it’s best spoken about openly.
Predictability is generally calming and helpful for everyone, but for many disabled people it’s essential. Making the process accessible and transparent helps everyone involved and makes sure everyone has realistic expectations.
How?
No matter what it is you need to discuss about the student’s/your direct report’s work or support, include them! Always speak to them rather than about them.
Have the Talk about talking to each other and working with each other.
How do we want to communicate with each other?
Frequency: how often do you want to meet?
Medium: do you want to meet in person? On a video call? Should we speak or write to each other?
Length: are shorter meetings better or longer meetings?
Notes: are we good at writing action points down ourselves or should we exchange a quick email after the meeting to clarify what we agreed on?
Style: Can we hint at something or should we always be explicit? Can we use metaphors? (yes, really!)
What can we expect of each other?
How much time do we realistically have for each other?
How much work/feedback do we expect of each other and when?
What are our working hours? When can we reach each other and how?
What we need:
Consider the needs of both parties and find something that works for both.
Try to openly discuss needs, but be prepared that the student might be ashamed or scared and not tell you everything right away.
Keep talking!
Make clear that the Talk is not a 1-off. They have forgotten or not dared to mention some needs? You two can talk more later. Their needs have changed? No problem, you can renegotiate how to communicate. You two agreed on talking with no written notes and you feel it doesn’t work? Talk about it openly with the student and agree on notes from now on.
Talking is a process, keep communicating!
Trust
Why?
Building a relationship of trust with your student is crucial, because only trust allows them to open up about their needs and to believe that your offers of help are genuine. Disabled students have reasons not to trust. They have experienced being ridiculed or belittled when voicing their needs or struggles. They have to feel that you are a safe person to talk to.
How?
Building trust between yourself and the student might be harder because they have had many bad experiences. What might help you get there is trusting them first.
Listen. Empathise. Believe them.
They are the expert on their neurodivergence or their other disabilities. If they say that they cannot work in this bright light, believe them. If they say the office is too loud, take their word for it. Don’t try to minimise their problem (worst case “it’s okay for the others though, are you sure?”), but trust their assessment of the e.g. workspace. They can tell you what is not suitable for their specific needs, and if they do so, that is a huge leap of faith and a sign they trust you with their vulnerability. Show them it was the right decision by listening and taking them seriously.
Give them reasons to trust you:
Make sure your words and actions align.
If you made a mistake or missed a meeting, own it and say sorry.
If you ask something of them, tell them the reason.
When they open up to you, you know what to do: Listen. Empathise. Believe them.
Tailor
Why?
People’s needs are vastly different. Techniques and adjustments that help one person might make another person worse. That is why we want more than equality (everyone gets the same), we want Equity (everyone gets what they need). This has to be said so explicitly because we increasingly see the rise of discrimination in the name of equality. E.g.
“We offer only apples for dessert so everyone gets the same.”
“I’m allergic to apples, can I have a banana instead?”
“I’m sorry. Giving you a banana would mean you don’t have the same experience as everyone else. It’s apples only, because we want parity and equality (sic!)”
How?
Tailor your approach to the individual student. Consider:
Some need pressure, some need space.
Some need more contact, some quiet.
Some need more feedback, some more autonomy.
But all of them need the 5 T. Every disabled person needs you to believe them, to consider them, to ask them what would help them. Listen. Empathise. Believe them.
Trauma
Why?
You won’t find a disabled person that does not have traumatic experiences in their past.
– Bullying
– Exclusion
– Having to mask
– Gas-lighting
– Ableist abuse
That is the sad reality of our society. Every disabled person you will encounter is traumatised.
Every. Single. One.
You cannot change that, but you can be aware of it.
A traumatised person can “overreact” to something you might consider harmless or even helpful/friendly.
A traumatised person might verbally lash out at you, and will immediately feel bad about it.
A traumatised person might shut down completely in response to something you said.
How?
If you want to turn the other cheek and interpret an outburst has the student loudly suffering in your presence rather than rudeness, remember:
That has to be your personal choice. No one can ask you to do this. You have the right to dignity and respect at work. You can remove yourself from the situation.
Choice can only happen out of a position of safety.
But if you can make that choice and see their pain, that might help a lot. Even if it doesn’t make things better overnight. What you can do then is:
De-escalate. Be calm.
Listen. Empathise. Believe them.
And very important: Tell yourself that it’s NOT your fault. You stepped on a trigger you didn’t know existed. That happens to professionals, that happens to people who know the person. It’s never nice when it happens but it’s not you. Remembering that is important for your own sake but also for the student’s/report’s sake. If you can remain calm and resting in yourself, they will calm down.
Trust yourself, so they can trust you.
A cup of Tea
Why?
In German we have a saying “Ratschläge sind auch Schläge” (Advice is also a beating). Help you offer, no matter how well intended, could retrigger the student’s trauma. That is of course sad and painful for you, because you really want to help and standing by watching while someone struggles is quite a burden. But for the student/your staff the offer of help could be anything but helpful. It could make them feel ashamed that they cannot do it by themselves, as they have been told for most of their life “everyone else can do so you are just lazy”. It could trigger anxiety, as they might feel they disappoint you. It could make them feel that they are not good enough. Remember, if that happens, it’s not you who caused this. You just put your finger on an old wound. So, where does the tea come in?
How?
Imagine the help you want to offer like a cup of Tea. What would you do with a cup of tea?
Offer it to someone in distress? Absolutely!
Keep offering it, warmly and plenty, even if it’s not always taken? Also yes!
Advertise it by saying you also like this tea and drink it often? Maybe.
Offer a different kind of tea if the first cup isn’t accepted? Perhaps.
Be offended or hurt if someone doesn’t want tea right now? No.
Force them to drink the tea? No way!
Help works exactly in the same way. Offer it, offer it warmly and plenty. Even if it wasn’t taken the last time. Someone might not dare to ask for help after they didn’t accept your help initially. Offer it again the next time, even if it wasn’t wanted the first time around. If they feel they can trust you, and they are ready to accept the help, they will take it if it’s still there.
I grew up in Cologne and first found my way into emergency response as a teenager, serving as a volunteer paramedic with the German Red Cross. I began by studying a little civil and agricultural engineering, but my interests eventually pulled me toward philology — a blend of linguistics and literary studies — and later across the North Sea.
After moving to Scotland, I completed a master’s degree in Language Contact and began doctoral research exploring how mathematical and phylogenetic approaches from epidemiology might be applied to historical linguistic change. My work sits at the intersection of language, systems thinking, and the mechanics of change over time.
Alongside academia, I have worked as a caseworker and gained qualifications in Employment Law and Occupational Health & Safety, as well as additional first responder training. I continue to stay close to emergency-response work through volunteering with Scottish Cave Rescue, so more underground environments, risk, and casualty care.
I am also a trustee of the Nenthead Mines Conservation Society. Historical mines are one of my great passions: I spend much of my free time involved in mine conservation, underground restoration, and exploration archaeology. I am fascinated by the engineering, history, and human stories behind these spaces — and I like playing in the mud.
Outside of work, I stay anchored through movement. I practise ballet, kung fu, and both lion and dragon dance — disciplines that challenge coordination, balance, and focus in very different ways while being deeply rooted in history. I also used to train in historical fencing, which first sparked my love of embodied history and the mechanics of movement across cultures and eras.
Beyond research and rescue, I have a lifelong love of “navigational fluids” and the things that move through them — ships, aircraft, weather systems, and the beautiful logic of fluid mechanics. Navigation, motion, and complex systems are recurring themes across all my interests, whether I’m reading old texts, climbing into a mine, or watching the wind shear shift over a runway.
In my current role as a Research Fellow, I work on disability, policy systems, and human factors — examining how institutions design policies, why implementation so often fails, and how organisational structures can be reshaped to genuinely support disabled staff. My work combines insights from linguistics, systems engineering, aviation safety, and inclusion research to map the “policy machinery” behind reasonable adjustments and identify the structural and cognitive factors that shape real-world outcomes. At its core, my research is about building institutions that work as intended — not only on paper, but in practice, for the people who rely on them.
This blog brings these threads together: languages, systems, safety, policy, engineering, and the odd bit of mud from whichever mine I’ve wandered into most recently.
Work Package One, part of WhoCares, starts with the most fundamental question in disability governance:
How does policy need to be designed, structured, and embedded so that it actually works for disabled staff — not just on paper, but in everyday practice?
Universities often assume that writing a good disability or reasonable-adjustments policy is enough. WP1 shows why this isn’t true. A policy is only one component in a much larger system of recruitment, onboarding, HR procedures, line management, IT access, estates, health & safety, culture, and communication. If any part of that system fails, the policy fails with it.
What WP1 Does
WP1 maps this whole system — the “policy machine” — using approaches borrowed from systems engineering, aviation safety, and human factors. It looks at:
The policy itself: clarity, structure, responsibilities.
The policy network: how related policies reinforce or contradict it.
Implementation chains: who needs to know the policy and who actually does.
Human factors: workload, communication breakdowns, unconscious bias, norms, and the predictable ways people misinterpret, forget, or avoid policy.
The labour of inclusion: the hidden work disabled staff do because the system hasn’t been designed around them.
The aim is to diagnose where disability policy collapses: not at the level of legal compliance, but at the point of lived experience.
Why This Matters
Disabled staff do not experience “a disability policy.” They experience the entire ecosystem around it.
A policy will only work if:
it is known,
it is understood,
it fits coherently into the wider policy environment,
it can be implemented by staff with the time, training, and resources to do so,
it accounts for human fallibility,
and it does not rely on disabled staff to constantly self-advocate, educate, chase, or correct the system.
Most UK universities currently fail at several of these points, creating a wide implementation gap: the difference between what the policy promises and what disabled staff actually experience. WP1 analyses why that gap exists — and how to close it.
What WP1 Contributes
1. A systems-based blueprint for policy that works.
Policies must be written and embedded like engineering systems: with defined subcomponents, interdependent parts, and checks that each part is installed and functional.
2. Human-factors insight into implementation failure.
Policy collapses not because people are malicious, but because they are overloaded, undertrained, distracted, or following local norms. WP1 uses human-factors models (including aviation’s Dirty Dozen) to analyse these predictable failure points.
3. Practical strategies to reduce the labour of inclusion.
WP1 identifies how policies must be designed to shift the workload off disabled staff — through better communication, automatic prompts, universal design, resource allocation, and built-in accountability.
In Summary
Work Package One provides the evidence base for building disability policy that actually works. Not symbolic. Not aspirational. Operational.
It shows that effective disability policy isn’t one document — it is a functioning system, explicitly designed to overcome human factors and implementation gaps. And when that system works, disabled staff don’t just get support: they get equity, dignity, and the chance to do their work without carrying the extra labour that the system should carry for them.
For decades, the social model of disability has been one of the most transformative frameworks in disability rights. It offered a radical, empowering shift: people are disabled not by their bodies, but by barriers created by society. Stairs disable wheelchair users, not paralysis. Small print disables visually-impaired readers, not impaired vision. The problem lies not in the person, but in the environment.
This was a necessary and powerful counter to the medical model, which treated disability as an individual defect to be cured, controlled, or pathologised. The social model exposed the injustice of designing a world around a narrow idea of the “normal” body. It said: we can build something better. And it changed law, activism, and everyday access in ways that can’t be overstated.
But that doesn’t mean the social model is complete.
Where the Social Model Hits Its Limits
The social model works brilliantly when barriers are environmental or attitudinal. But it struggles — really struggles — in scenarios where pain, fatigue, neurological overload, or deterioration are intrinsic to a person’s condition, not results of external barriers.
Someone with:
chronic nerve pain
ME/CFS
sickle-cell disease
inflammatory conditions
degenerative disorders
complex neurological conditions
or severe migraines
…doesn’t stop suffering just because a ramp exists, or a workplace is accessible. No manager, however inclusive, can magically remove a pain flare or a seizure cluster. And the classical social-model line of “the disability is only in the environment” can begin to feel gaslighting for people whose daily experience is hardship.
This leads to two significant limitations:
1. It assumes suffering is always externally imposed.
This erases the lived reality of people whose bodies do cause real pain, unpredictability, or limitations.
2. It overburdens disabled people with the job of “advocating for access”.
Under the classic social model, if barriers disable you, you must identify them, explain them, request adjustments, negotiate them, and sometimes fight for them. The result: the hidden labour of navigating disability remains on the disabled person.
This hidden labour includes:
managing symptoms
managing energy
coordinating care
managing medication logistics
constantly self-advocating
endlessly explaining
covering for inaccessible systems
translating policy into reality
The social model removed some burdens, but it left too many where they were.
We need something better — something that acknowledges bodies as real, and societies as responsible. We need Social Model 2.0.
What Social Model 2.0 Looks Like
Social Model 2.0 keeps the best of the original — the focus on removing barriers — but adds a crucial layer of collective responsibility. It recognises two truths simultaneously:
Some suffering comes from disabling barriers.
Some suffering comes from the condition itself — and society must still help carry that load.
In Social Model 2.0, inclusion means more than ramps, captions, and flexible work. It means society intentionally takes on the labour that disability otherwise forces onto the individual.
Instead of saying:
“Tell us what you need, and we’ll see what we can do.”
Social Model 2.0 says:
“We assume you carry invisible labour. We proactively share that workload, because pain and symptoms aren’t a personal failing — they’re a collective responsibility.”
This model recognises that access is not just the built environment; access is the entire ecosystem of living with a condition.
What this looks like in practice:
1. Collective responsibility for accessibility basics
This part is classic social model:
ramps
clear signage
lighting
flexible deadlines
hybrid meetings
quiet rooms
sensory-friendly events
non-hostile HR processes
inclusive policymaking
accessible digital systems
But unlike the original model, Social Model 2.0 treats these not as optional extras but as organisational duties — automatically deployed, not dependent on disabled people asking for them.
2. Collective responsibility for health-related labour
This is the new layer. It says: even when a condition’s pain or instability is intrinsic, society has a duty to help.
Examples:
Ensuring someone with a painful condition has secure, reliable access to medication
Giving extra recovery time without guilt or performance penalties
Creating predictable routines so symptom management becomes easier
Making sure someone doesn’t have to fight insurance, HR, or scheduling while in pain
Assigning support workers or admin assistance to reduce cognitive and logistical load
Designing systems where disabled people are not required to “prove” their condition repeatedly
Building organisational cultures where illness and pain are assumed, not doubted
Proactively checking that people in flare or decline have their practical needs covered
In other words:
We stop pretending that inclusion ends at “remove the barrier”
and start recognising that many barriers are internal to the body — and still not the disabled person’s burden to carry alone.
Why Social Model 2.0 Matters
Because the world has changed. Because we understand more about chronic illness, neurodiversity, pain science, fatigue, and fluctuating conditions than we did in the 1980s. Because “inclusion” can no longer stop at architecture and attitudes.
And because we now know that:
Pain is real.
Fatigue is real.
Overload is real.
Recovery time is real.
Admin is labour.
Self-advocacy is labour.
Navigating inaccessible systems is labour.
Managing medication is labour.
And all of this is work disabled people are doing every single day that nobody sees.
Social Model 2.0 says: If society disables us, society must fix it. If the body disables us, society must help carry that weight too.
It isn’t about pity. It isn’t about protection. It’s about justice, dignity, and shared responsibility.
Conclusion: A Model That Finally Fits Reality
The original social model liberated us from a worldview that blamed disabled people for existing. But like any model, it reflects the era it was born in. Today, we face different challenges: long-term conditions, fluctuating illnesses, invisible disabilities, complex pain conditions, and the enormous hidden labour that comes with them.
Social Model 2.0 is not a replacement — it’s an upgrade. It keeps the political strength of the original while updating it for the world disabled people actually live in.
Because inclusion isn’t just removing barriers. It’s removing burdens.
Because disability isn’t just a policy problem. It’s a shared societal responsibility.
And because no one should have to carry their pain — or their access needs — alone.
“Autistic people struggle with language. They don’t understand when you say the horse has bolted.”
No. It’s a bit different from this.
(Also, at least say the horse has sailed, make it interesting)
What Autistic people and people who don’t speak your English struggle with is hidden meaning. Like in this post.
What do you mean “your English”, Claire? There is only one English.
*Linguist mode activated*
There are hundreds of thousands of Englishes.
Regional variation.
Class variation.
Education.
Neurotype.
Age.
Gender.
Health.
Oh, and that is just the native speakers.
And, did I mention everyone has more than one English?
You don’t speak to your granny like to the lads in the pub. Hopefully…
Okay, now where does your autistic colleague or student struggle?
Hidden meaning you can’t look up.
Let’s take email sign offs…
Kind regards: My default setting. Like a Roomba with manners. I did not put effort in. Not really kind. Regards: I’m very cross with you. Warm regards: Something is afoot. You will discover it in Act III. Best regards: I want something. I likely don’t know you and I’m just hoping for the best. With regards: I don’t speak English well and Google suggested this. Best: The salted crisp of sign-offs. Acceptable. Emotionally vacant. Thanks: I’m polite, but make no mistake — the clock is ticking. Thanks again: Please read the subtext before things escalate. My patience is now as thin as a UK bin bag. Thanks in advance: Emotional extortion in professional font. You are now forced to do what I asked for. All the best: I’m about to retire or I think you are/should be. Appreciate it: I absolutely do not. In fact, I’m annoyed you didn’t already do this. Yours truly: Romantic. Does not belong here.
Now, “regards” does not always “I’m angry with you”, it means that depending on who said it. And if you don’t know the person you have to learn to guess correctly from their role, age, skin colour, name, and the rest of the email.
That’s a lot of work and really complicated and requires a strong theory of mind (thinking yourself into someone else’s shoes).
Now what?
So, if my student/colleague doesn’t get my hint they are autistic?
Maybe. Or not a native speaker. Or from a different English speaking part where things are phrased differently. Or not that gifted with social antennae.
But, good news! You don’t have to know. Just use these 3 tips on everyone and you’re sorted:
1. No hints!
⛔ “Maybe Bauer 2012 is worth a look…”
✅ “Read Bauer 2012 please.”
2. Clear language
⛔ “This is quite good, you might want to do a little editing…”
✅ “This has potential but it is not there, yet. You will have to make substantive edits.”
3. Assume no malice:
⛔ “Bob was rude to me, I have HR on speed dial!!!”
✅ “Okay, what Bob said sounded a bit rude to me. What is the best possible interpretation of what he just said? It’ll roll with that until proven otherwise.”
Count the cost and weigh it up against the benefit.
Some things are not worth it on second thought, even if you have always done it that way.
What is the cost?
If you have staff/students with social anxiety or several other types of neurodivergence, ice breakers can cause them to shut down completely. They will need an hour to recover. And your class/meeting is 50 mins so…
For anyone else, they just don’t actually build the rapport you need. So they don’t even work.
What’s the benefit? Well… near none.
What can you do instead?
Get people started on a task together. A topic specific task. They’ll rapport themselves just fine. And that includes the ND folk. Why?
The task is not personal. It’s about work/study which is what people came to your class/meeting for. Predictable.
They gave informed consent to do this. You have buy-in automatically.
Once they talk about syntax and budgets and such, some will slip in personal stuff and start to bond and build rapport within their comfort zones. Naturally. Consensually.
Most rapport building is done via body language so that happens silently while they work. Have you ever looked at the body language of people during ice breakers? Most are tense and braced. That’s not rapport, it’s being complacent.
Lived experience:
Ice breaker I had to take part in a few weeks ago: earliest childhood memory.
Me: me mum’s husband trying to drown me in a pool.
*dead silence*
Me: And that’s the cost of ice breakers. You don’t know what people carry. Don’t assume that all your students/colleagues have a happy childhood memory you can hook on to to shortcut rapport building.
Ice breakers, real ones, are massive ships and they don’t just break the ice and hope, they have ice radar, multibeam echosounders, satellite data, etc. They know what’s under the ice. With a student or colleague, we don’t know.
Just give people a safe place in the sun, it’ll melt. Cheaper, quicker, safer and you’ll get more working minutes out of the group, too.
Playing games, but count the cost,
the ice is broken but your class is lost.
The USCG Healy (WAGB-20) breaks ice around the Russian-flagged tanker Renda 250 miles south of Nome, Alaska, Jan. 6, 2012. The Healy is the Coast Guard’s only currently operating polar icebreaker. (DoD photo by Petty Officer 1st Class Sara Francis, U.S. Coast Guard/Released)
Today in understanding neurodiversity: Auditory Processing Disorders
My approach: chaotic.
APDs are all about processing not sensory input. So many of us are quite good at low processing comms like radio, calling dispatch, underground radio etc. And bad at other audio only setups.
Because I am, like many people with APD, also blessed with hypersensitive hearing, I’m actually better at radios in wind and background noise than most.
Why is that an important distinction? I’m not Deaf but I have to lipread when conditions are bad. And I can still turn around and operate the radio well. That’s not mutually exclusive.
“But why can you operate a radio then, Claire? Shouldn’t you be worse at that than most people?”
Funny you ask…
Radio is easy. Why?
It follows a very simple system.
The number of things that can be said are predictable.
People speak clearly and don’t mumble.
The turn taking is verbal and explicit (“over”).
Backchannelling is verbal and explicit (“copy”).
Asking for clarification is considered good form.
There is no social bonding aspect.
There is a very strong emphasis on maximum distinction (“niner” for 9).
It’s short.
