My name is Meriem Bouallaq. I am a mother of two children with ADHD. I have ADHD and dyslexia myself — undiagnosed until adulthood, because nobody was looking for it in girls like me. I am writing this petition not out of anger, but out of love. Love for my children. Love for every child sitting in a classroom right now who has been told, in one way or another, that they do not quite fit. I am asking for three things. They are not radical. They are not expensive. They are simply right.
This is not a small problem. This is a generation of children struggling in a system that was not built for them. According to the CDC, over 7 million children in the United States — 1 in 9 — have now been diagnosed with ADHD. That is one million more than in 2016. Globally, online searches for ADHD increased by an average of 270% across 19 countries between 2019 and 2023, reflecting just how many families are searching for answers. A 2023 meta-analysis of over 81,000 children found that children spending more than 2 hours per day on screens had a 51% higher risk of ADHD symptoms. A large Canadian longitudinal study of nearly 4,000 high school students found that increases in screen time within a given year were directly associated with worsening ADHD symptoms that same year, with social media use showing the most lasting impact. Our children are growing up in a world saturated with stimulation, with attention pulled in every direction, with algorithms designed to fragment focus and reward impulsivity. And then we send them into classrooms designed in the 19th century and wonder why they cannot sit still. The system was not built for them. And yet it is our children who are labelled.
The label “special needs” does not protect children. The evidence is clear that it does the opposite. Research shows that children labelled with neurodevelopmental conditions are significantly more likely to be bullied, socially excluded, and avoided by peers. Studies show that once a child receives a public-facing label, they are perceived differently by teachers before they have spoken a single word, and avoided by peers who have been taught — directly or indirectly — to see that label as a reason for distance. A systematic review found that labelling children with neurodevelopmental diagnoses leads to self-stigma, reduced self-esteem, social withdrawal, avoidance of help-seeking, and poorer long-term outcomes. Children who internalise public stigma — who begin to believe the label is the truth about who they are — show measurable decreases in self-esteem and self-efficacy. This is not a side effect. This is the predictable result of a system that chooses to label rather than support. The damage compounds over time. A child who spends years believing they are broken does not simply recover when the paperwork is updated. Social anxiety, avoidance behaviours, and poor self-worth built in childhood follow children into adolescence and adulthood. We do not call a child with a broken leg a special mobility needs child. We give them what they need and move on. Do the same for our children. Give them the service quietly. Without a label. Without ceremony. As a matter of right.
Other countries have already proven this is possible. Finland does not label children as special needs. Instead, universal support is provided to every child who struggles, as a matter of course, without stigma and without ceremony. The result: Finnish students consistently rank among the highest in the world for reading, mathematics, and wellbeing. Finland has one of the lowest rates of school dropout in the developed world. Norway legally requires schools to provide individualised instruction for every child who needs it — without requiring a diagnosis or a label first. Canada has built Universal Design for Learning into classrooms from the start, so that flexibility is the default and no child needs to be singled out to receive appropriate support. These countries are not doing something radical. They are doing something simple. They are treating every child as a child worthy of support. We can do the same.
My daughter Amber experienced this firsthand. From the moment she was labelled, the social consequences were real and immediate. She was targeted. She was excluded. A friendship she had maintained for years could not survive the social pressure that came from other children and their parents when that label became known. Some parents openly tell their children not to play with children who have been labelled special needs. The label did not just follow her into the classroom. It followed her into the playground, into birthday party invitations, into the way her peers were taught to see her. I have ADHD and dyslexia myself. Nobody diagnosed me as a child. Instead I was told to try harder, pay attention, stop daydreaming. I sat in classrooms where letters swam on the page and information moved too fast. I was not lazy. I was not slow. I was a child whose needs were invisible to everyone around her. I do not want that for any child today.
When children are bullied, excluded, and made to feel that they do not belong, they do not simply accept it. They search for an identity, a community, a reason for why they feel so different, so invisible, so outside of normal. This is one of the most urgent and underacknowledged conversations in child mental health today. The CDC’s 2023 Youth Risk Behavior Survey found that 40% of transgender and questioning students reported being bullied at school, and over 72% reported persistent feelings of sadness and hopelessness. Research from The Trevor Project found that young people who experienced bullying had three times the rate of suicide attempts compared to those who were not bullied. Among transgender youth who were bullied, 32% attempted suicide compared to 14% who were not. I want to be clear — I am not suggesting that identity is not real. What I am saying is that when a child has been made to feel invisible, worthless, and outside of normal for years, that child is in a deeply vulnerable state. A child desperate to belong will reach for any identity or community that offers them acceptance and visibility. We are failing these children long before they reach that moment of desperation. The answer is not to treat the child as the problem. The answer is to fix the conditions that made them feel invisible in the first place. Protect them from bullying. Remove the labels that mark them as less than. Train teachers to see every child. Create classrooms where every brain belongs.
The average teacher receives minimal training in neurodevelopmental differences. And then that teacher stands in front of thirty children — six to eight of whom have a neurodevelopmental difference — and is expected to reach all of them. This is not fair to teachers. And it is catastrophic for children. Every teacher in every school should receive deep practical training in ADHD, dyslexia, autism, dyspraxia, dyscalculia, and every neurological difference — including how they present differently in girls, who are consistently underdiagnosed for years longer than boys. Universal Design for Learning built into every lesson from the start, so no child needs to be singled out. Trauma-informed practice, because by the time many neurodivergent children reach secondary school they are already carrying years of academic and social trauma. And clear guidance on how to identify and actively stop bullying that targets children perceived as different. This training should not be a one-day workshop. It should be ongoing, mandatory, and as fundamental to teaching as safeguarding.
Right now, getting support for a neurodivergent child requires parents to fight. To request assessments, attend meetings, write letters, chase responses, and navigate a system that moves slowly while their child falls further behind. By the time many children receive a formal diagnosis and support plan, they have already spent years believing they are stupid, lazy, or broken. The damage done in those years does not simply disappear when the paperwork finally arrives. Every child who is struggling should receive support immediately — not after a six-month waiting list, not after their parent has learned enough to fight the system effectively. Support should be the default. Help should be the starting point. And that support must not end when the school bell rings. Every school must be required to offer free after-school support programmes for neurodivergent children — homework help, social skills groups, sensory-friendly spaces, and access to specialists — so that no child is left to fall further behind simply because their family cannot afford private tutoring or therapy. The school day is not enough. These children need more time, more support, and more opportunity to catch up and keep up. That is not a privilege. That is a right.
You are not alone. You are not failing your child. The system is failing your child — and the difference matters enormously. The system will only change when enough of us say together, in numbers that cannot be ignored, that this is not good enough. Our children deserve better. Sign this petition. Share it with every parent you know. This is how it changes. Not one exhausted parent at a time. Together.
With love, Meriem Bouallaq — Mother. Advocate. Author of The Brain That Would Not Sit Still: Raising Brilliant Kids with ADHD. Woman with ADHD who was never diagnosed as a child. ♥​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​