Since unexpectedly leaving the classroom in February 2026, I have been writing a personal blog under the name The Autistic Catalyst. This project explores my experiences as an openly autistic teacher, my own diagnosis story, and the adjustments I have made to navigate a neurotypical world.
You are welcome to follow the blog via my Instagram account @theautisticcatalyst. I find it somewhat ironic to be so active there, having spent years advising students in PSHE lessons to avoid social media, but as it turns out, there are genuine benefits to these platforms for building community!
https://sites.google.com/view/theautisticcatalyst/home
Please be aware that the reflections shared here are solely my views, based on my lived and professional experience. My goal is to provide a transparent look into the "system" as I saw it, and the better future I am now building.
This blogging project was born out of a period of significant transition, and I would like to extend my sincere thanks to Hayley @ Cactus Counselling, part of Attention Allies Therapists for ADHD in Bristol, for encouraging me to begin blogging my thoughts and experiences during my move away from mainstream teaching.
In my previous post, I reflected on my time as an undiagnosed teenager and the "Safe Space Lattice" that kept me stable. In Years 7 and 8, that lattice was the school library. By Year 9, after the library was demolished, it became my tutor’s classroom where I would lock myself in just to eat my lunch in peace. Reflecting on this now as a qualified teacher, it raises a fundamental question: Why should a neurodivergent child have to seek out a safe space? Why isn’t the entire school site designed to be a safe space from the ground up?
In my eight years as an openly autistic teacher in mainstream British schools, I have seen first-hand that staff wellbeing is rarely the priority. Often, the system focuses almost exclusively on exam data and passing external observations; the individuality of the children being churned through the system is secondary. I was personally broken and churned out by this system, eventually suffering significant autistic burnout. Having had the time to reflect, I have built a vision for a different way of learning.
This is a vision for a school where the measure of success is not based on arbitrary targets from Year 6 SATs or a relentless cycle of high-stakes testing. In this school, teachers are not micromanaged; instead, they are supported and encouraged to exercise their own autonomy, creative licence, and SEND expertise. Every child is an individual, so why can’t teachers be too? If an approach works for the child, it works for the school. While oversight from external inspectors and leadership is part of the framework, it is not the be-all and end-all of our daily existence.
The current system is unjust and unfair; it is destroying talent and passion. It sees children as numbers on a spreadsheet, not individuals who need to be nurtured. True inclusion is not about hunting for generic "evidence" in books for strategies that might work for one autistic child but not another. It is about refusing to "cap" a student’s potential based on a rigid set or a single missed assessment.
The CATS Model: Finding the Young Person's Voice
Central to the Tribe’s philosophy is a fundamental equation: Neurodiversity + Environment = Outcome. In the current system, the "Outcome" is often measured by how well a child can mask their neurodivergence to fit an rigid environment. At Somerset Tribe, we flip the equation. We adjust the environment to ensure the outcome is one of growth, brilliance, and genuine engagement. To do this, we use the CATS Model to reduce anxiety and amplify the voice of every student:
C – Certainty: Removing the "unknown" that triggers the nervous system. We provide absolute clarity on the Who, What, and Why of every day.
A – Autonomy: Moving away from a "top-down" approach. Students have a genuine say in their adjustments, from seating choices to how they demonstrate their learning.
T – Trust: Building belonging by explicitly removing the "disappointment rhetoric." We create a safe space where students are never measured against what they cannot do.
By prioritising Certainty, Autonomy, and Trust, we ensure that we aren't just "talking at" children, but actively listening to them. I will be writing an additional blog post shortly to go into the full technical detail of how the CATS Model works in practice. For now, you can view the foundational framework in the presentation linked below.
In this vision, we do not reward progress by destroying the relationships that made it possible. Connection is the curriculum. Innovation is the curriculum. Individuality is the curriculum. We do not aim for the "impossible"; we aim for the ceiling-less classroom.
Imagine a school that fits the way your brain works instead of trying to sand down your edges to make you fit a square hole. This is my vision for my ideal Tribe school. It is a place built from the ground up for the neurodivergent kids who have been left behind by a system that values metrics over people. This vision provides a consistent home from Year 5 right through to Year 13. Having spent three and a half years teaching in a mainstream middle school within a three-tier system, and having previously worked within the two-tier model, I have seen first-hand how children fall through the gaps during the primary to secondary transition. We know the biggest hurdles occur when children are forced into huge secondary environments before they are ready, so we have removed that cliff-edge entirely.
Students are taught in groups of no more than 15, based on their ability and interests rather than just their age. With a staff ratio of one adult to every four students, there are no forgotten kids at the back of the room. Every class has a subject mentor and a teaching assistant, supported by school-wide technicians and specialists. Our staff are openly neurodivergent role models who act as collaborative partners.
The environment is designed as a high-tech professional campus with natural light and quiet corners. Every classroom has an attached crash-out room for when the world gets too loud. We have three professional research and development science spaces, bespoke tech rooms, and a "tech graveyard" where you can safely deconstruct old computers to see how the world works.
Our facilities include a soundproofed music studio, a language lab, and a food room attached directly to our wildlife and vegetable garden, allowing students to manage the "seed to plate" cycle. For movement, there is a traverse wall and an individual regulation gym to burn off sensory spikes. Even the staff have their own sanctuary pods to reset their nervous systems.
The rhythm of the day is built entirely around cognitive load. We begin with a "soft start" from 08:30 until 09:00, allowing students to settle in without frantic bells. Our schedule includes 15-minute "buffer times" between lessons to finish a thought and decompress. We run a split lunch to avoid the sensory nightmare of a crowded canteen, and the tech rooms stay open for those who find safety in focused tasks during breaks.
The day concludes with project time, where you find your sub-tribe in coding, chess, or environmental action. Finally, we have a day debrief to update Kanban boards and ensure that school stays at school.
Our curriculum is anchored to the UN Sustainable Development Goals. Success is not measured by a single high-pressure exam, but by a digital portfolio of innovation. We focus on real-world impact through initiatives like the TCS goIT Monthly Challenge. From my experience, this approach gives children direction and creativity, particularly around design thinking and teamwork. This model has already led neurodivergent teams to become twice UK champions and international finalists in global competitions.
Crucially, project inspiration does not just fall on the teachers. We bring in professional industry mentors from the tech and science sectors who work on their own professional projects alongside the children. You get to see real-world innovation happening at the very next desk.
There are no blazers or ties here. The uniform is a comfy branded hoodie with silent fidgets sewn into the pockets. You wear whatever shoes make you feel grounded. If you are uncomfortable, you are not learning, so we simply removed the discomfort.
This is a place where you are not included as a project to be fixed. When you walk through the doors, nobody is trying to change you. We simply say: Welcome to the Tribe. This is a school where you can finally stop surviving and start actually being brilliant.