Rishi Sunak's maths push ignores the needs of neurodiverse students

'Harmed' sounds a little dramatic, right? How can a little spell of Pythagoras' theorem hurt someone? Well, let's pretend there is a little girl. We will call her Joy. She starts school at four and spends the first few years wriggling and writhing and wondering why she keeps hearing adults reproach her when all she wants to do is play in the stream she can vividly taste, touch, and see in her whirling imagination.

She craves playtime, but her spelling test came in low, so when break finally arrives, Joy is sat quietly, again, practicing her words. Lunchtime comes not a moment too soon, but the other children in Joy's class are continuing a game from break time which she wasn't a part of, and anyway, her brain is overloaded, and her body is itching to move so she struggles to find a way to join in.

It is the afternoon, and Joy has sat still for too long, felt the sharp pain of loneliness again, failed her learning, again, and now the whole class is on an activity that Joy has no understanding of. How could she, when her teacher was explaining, Joy zoned out, thinking about that stream? She doesn't know what to do, so she starts wandering around the class looking for someone to interact with. Joy's teacher, who is wearily trying to keep Joy up to pace with her classmates, because you know, Ofsted, tries to show Joy with the only tool available to her, that she needs to focus and pay attention. So she moves Joy's peg back down to red. Joy sees it, and so do her peers. Everyone in the room is reminded that red = bad, joy = red, therefore Joy = bad.

And this continues over the course of her education, for years. Years of being told she is not good enough, or strong enough, or clever enough, or even very liked. We don't need to dip too far into the world of neuroscience to know that this repetition of negative encounters can damage self-esteem, mental and emotional wellbeing, relationships present and future, career opportunities, financial prospects, even physical health, and life longevity.

So, what do we do with a girl like Joy? Rishi Sunak wants his army of mathematicians to build us into the next technological superpower. If the majority of neurotypical kids can study maths, compete in sports teams, maintain friendships, pursue their passions, and enjoy their families all at once, surely everyone can do that. Why can't Joy just be like everyone else?

Well, because she isn't. You see, Joy is magical. Her deep sense of curiosity and wonder fuels a vibrant imagination. Her intuitive and empathic nature allows her to connect deeply with others and understand the world in profound and meaningful ways. Not during break time when she's checking her spellings, but give her time and you will experience what it is to be truly seen and heard by a richly authentic soul. Her mind wanders on long journeys of ingenuity and innovation, weaving intricate webs of thought that can solve even the most challenging puzzles. Joy is an entertainer, an empath, a virtuoso, a problem solver, an innovator, and an entrepreneur. More than all of that, Joy is human. If only she could get past those damn spellings.

Let's get back to Mr Sunak and his compulsory maths. Children like Joy, like mine, and probably someone you love, will have spent their entire childhood struggling to meet expectations, inadvertently closing down opportunities that would cause them to flourish. And now they're being asked to pursue a curriculum that may demoralise, demotivate, and ostracise them at a time in life when they should be grabbing the reins and seizing the day.

Besides being deeply unfair in a society that believes in equality, our nation of future mathematical geniuses is also going to suffer. Because children like Joy won't create art, entertainment, technological breakthroughs, social entrepreneurship, and global solutions. They won't bring their sharp wit, heightened imaginations, three-dimensional thinking, superior logic, or extraordinary vision. They'll be too busy processing their shame and hurt from an education system that failed to recognise them or their magic. And those who don't have the support to process their struggles and reach for more? As we've seen, the child who isn't embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.

So how do we move forward? Actually, it is the complete opposite of our current model of heavy handling from the top down. We need to help our children understand themselves, to empower them to listen to their innate desire to learn and tune into their gifting and talent. We need to help them find ways to use their skills to benefit their community and, in turn, draw on the abilities of others to bolster their own. We need to open their eyes and minds to the world and allow them to explore the things that captivate and intrigue them before expressing their learning in interesting ways. We need to help them cultivate habits that will underpin a future of self-motivation, productivity and determination. We must allow them to flourish in their own uniqueness before lending their brilliance to their communities and the wider world.

I am not suggesting we trial some weird social experiment on an entire generation of learners. Everything I believe we should prioritise in education is exactly how we run other learning environments. Take, for instance, the home. When your child learns to speak, is it through a structured and regulated regime of rote repetition, or do you tell stories, sing songs, and play games, allowing them to lead whilst introducing them to more? Do you write targets and action plans, or do you let them naturally share their world and eagerly join yours? If one child is good at handstands, do you insist that they all are? And do we lock up our teenagers with the hope that, at 18, they will mysteriously know how to function as well-adjusted adults?

No, we give them responsibilities and opportunities to practice being independent, autonomous members of society. We offer choices, lots of choices, to help them practise and understand the decision making process. We look for ways to prepare our children for the world and give them freedom to explore their abilities, possibilities, and desires. Imagine, for a moment, a school system that does the same, and you won’t find it drowning in rules, inspections and heavily mandated learning. You will find passionate, attentive educators, trusted and respected by their governing bodies and in turn able to trust in the students' human desire to learn and grow. And you will find children, like Joy, flourishing.

So, Mr Sunak, please do champion mathematics and every other form of intelligence. There is nothing quite like the "aha" moment that comes after a struggle in learning. But don’t mandate the what, when, why and how. And please don’t lengthen the duration of time our young people must simply shut up and put up with whatever your government wants them to learn. Slacken the cord a little, and you may just discover a generation of free-thinking innovators, creators, sportspeople, storytellers, entrepreneurs, philanthropists, and philosophers, as well as a good few mathematicians.

Marina Magdalena is the author of About Last Summer, which is published on 21 April 2023