Curb Cuts for Learning: How Neuroinclusion Benefits Most but is Essential for Some

Repost from Forbes

Think about the last training your organization delivered. Were the learners in that room who process information differently, who need more time to respond or who are managing sensory sensitivities set up to succeed? If you're not sure, that uncertainty is where this conversation begins.

The Curb Cut That Changed Everything

Curb cuts, the sloped ramps built into sidewalks at intersections, are so ordinary today that most of us never think about them. But they weren't always there. What began as a fight for accessibility in Kalamazoo, Michigan in 1945, when World War II veterans with mobility-related injuries demanded barrier-free streets, grew into a disability rights movement in the 1960s and 1970s. That movement inspired architect Ron Mace to develop Universal Design, a framework for building environments and products usable by all people, by default.

Curb cuts didn't become federally mandated until the Americans with Disabilities Act was signed in 1990, 45 years after the first ramps were sledgehammered into curbs by activists. Today, they are an invisible, expected feature of public infrastructure.

Here's the thing about curb cuts: they were designed for wheelchair users, but they benefit parents with strollers, travelers with luggage, cyclists, delivery workers and anyone carrying something heavy. Researcher and policy advocate Angela Glover Blackwell calls this the "curb-cut effect." Features designed to benefit a disadvantaged group end up benefiting everyone.

Learning is no different.

Curb Cuts For Learning

Many of our accepted best practices in learning design began as accessibility accommodations for specific groups. Over time, as they prove beneficial to most learners, they became standard. The original need fades from view.

Consider a few examples. Distributing slides before a session allows deaf learners preview time so they can focus on sign language interpreters during delivery. Captions serve learners who are deaf or hard of hearing, but also anyone in a noisy space, a non-native speaker or someone who processes language better when they can read along. Accessible typography and color contrast, baked into learning platforms via Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG), benefit anyone reading on a screen or in low light.

These are curb cuts for learning. Most people use them without a second thought about why they exist.

The Gap Between Accommodation And Inclusion

The challenge is that most organizations still operate from an accommodation model: barriers stay in place until a learner identifies themselves as disabled, requests support and waits to be told whether that request is considered reasonable. Accommodation is reactive. It places the burden on the individual to name a need that carries real professional risk. Research shows that neurodivergent professionals who disclose face greater bias and still often don't receive the support they requested.

Inclusion takes a different approach. It assumes variability is the norm, not the exception. Neuroinclusion names and addresses the fact that our systems, norms and training programs are designed around a neurotypical default, and that assumption is costing us.

The numbers are not small. Current data puts the prevalence of neurodivergence at approximately 15-20% of the population, and assessment access disparities suggest that figure is an undercount. A 2023 ZenBusiness survey found that over half of Gen Z identify as neurodiverse.

I believe neurodivergent talent is among the most overqualified and underutilized in today's workforce, not because of a lack of ability, but because of a lack of inclusive design.

What Neuroinclusive Design Actually Looks Like

Neuroinclusive design requires interrogating what we've already built and asking who it was built for.​

Practically, this means auditing your training programs across four areas: spaces, speakers, materials and measurement.

Ask whether learning environments account for sensory sensitivities that can derail focus and regulation. Provide executive function supports such as oral instructions paired with written ones, process time built into sessions and clear agendas shared in advance—not as special accommodations but as design defaults. Examine norms like expecting eye contact, extemporaneous speaking and restrictions on movement, and ask whether those norms serve learning or simply serve familiarity.

Many inclusive strategies are already considered best practices. The question is whether they are implemented consistently, by design or only sometimes, by request.

The Reflection Worth Having

Accommodations are a stop gap. They are the minimum we offer while we build something better. Neuroinclusion is the something better.

Here is a question worth sitting with: In your next training program, what barriers are you leaving in place simply because no one has formally asked you to remove them yet? Who in your room is masking, struggling or disengaging—not because the content doesn't matter to them, but because the learning experience wasn't built with them in mind?

The curb cut didn't just make the sidewalk more accessible. It made the sidewalk work the way it always should have. That's what neuroinclusive design does for learning.​​​​