Differentiation & Inclusivity: board the train where each learner lives

Every class is a small city—different streets, speeds, languages, histories. When we pretend everyone boards the same train at the same station, we quietly build a journey for no one. This entry begins where the JVDT Methodology always begins: with the pact to value the individual and remove barriers to participation. In practice that means we design for Love, Respect, and Happiness not as slogans on a wall but as choices in the lesson—choices that let each learner board where they actually live.

In JVDT we move along a simple train journey: Information → Integration → Comprehension → Field of Application. The rails are Root and Context. Root is the essential that holds the day together; Context is time, place, audience, and purpose—the reasons learning matters now. Differentiation and inclusivity keep the train honest. They customise how we open the carriage doors at Information and how we help students find a seat during Integration, so that Comprehension can happen without humiliation and Application is something a child can see themselves doing outside the classroom.

Two Keys guide the opening minutes. Association is the work of starting from what is already known. Instead of “pay attention,” we ask, “What does this remind you of?” and mean it. A learner’s background, languages, and lived experiences are not noise to filter out; they are the bridge in. Context keeps us from teaching as if the room were nowhere and the people in it were abstracts. We name who our audience is today, why tone matters, and where this idea might travel after the bell. These moves aren’t sentimental—they are structural. They are how we keep dignity intact while learning asks for risk.

Inside that frame, familiar practices take on clearer purpose. Differentiated instruction is not a circus of options; it’s the simple promise to meet a learner at their platform. Some will board through a worked model; others will board by spotting the pattern for themselves. We don’t lower the destination; we lower the step up into the carriage. Inclusive teaching is the climate piece: names pronounced correctly, an opening minute that settles bodies and voices, content that recognises the world our students actually inhabit. If brilliance is going to happen, belonging must come first. Universal Design for Learning gives that belonging a spine. We plan multiple ways to access the idea and to show understanding—not as afterthoughts, but as ordinary architecture. Reading a short text, studying a diagram, or listening to a 60-second explanation are all valid boarding passes if they lead to the same comprehension.

Because real rooms move, flexible environments matter. Sometimes the most inclusive decision is a small shift in grouping, roles, or tempo. Triads with rotating roles (Speaker, Checker, Scribe) let more voices work without the pressure of performing to the whole room. That flexibility points forward to the Field of Application, where real work is rarely solo and never identical for every person. Classroom culture carries all of this. We model and repeat two pieces of Teach Peace language—“What makes you say that?” and “Let’s fix it together.” Error becomes data, not shame. And classroom management is simply structure that frees: a one-line thread at the top left of the board—“Today’s thread: …”—to keep attention anchored; quick, stigma-free resets so emotion can serve thinking. The Root stays visible; the rails stay steady.

When disruption or disagreement tries to drive, we use an OB-margin—a narrow column on the board where “ob-” energy (objection, obstacle, obstruction) gets named and parked with a time to return. I write “Objection — homework fairness :40”—meaning we’ll revisit that objection at the 40-minute mark (or whatever time you set). It communicates two things at once: you’ve been heard, and the lesson keeps moving until we address it as promised. It’s a small act of Respect that protects the Root of the day. (Linguistically, ob- can mean “toward/in front of” as well as “against/in the way”—parking it now lets us turn it toward the work later.)

This is also Emotional Intelligence in practice—the five benchmarks, lived rather than laminated. Self-awareness: I pace the room I actually have, not the one I imagined. A quick opt-in 1–5 energy check (or a calm read of the room) tells me whether to slow the tempo, shrink the load to the essential, or change the mode (quiet start before talk; pairs/triads before whole-class). Self-regulation: brief, stigma-free resets and a tone that cools rather than spikes. Motivation: two-sentence goals and early wins so effort has traction. Empathy: names pronounced correctly, context checks, content that recognises lived experience. Social skill: repair language—“What makes you say that?”, “Let’s fix it together.”—and roles that let everyone contribute without fear. Differentiation and inclusivity turn these five into daily architecture, not a poster.

If you want the whole morning in one picture without a recipe card: we begin by acknowledging energy and offering an on-ramp that fits. We teach one essential cleanly. We let students try a first step quietly so success can happen early. We ask where this might live beyond the room. We finish with a single sentence—“I moved forward when…”—because finishing a thought helps the next one start. None of this is fancy. All of it is differentiation in the service of belonging.

Kyiv makes these choices feel less like pedagogy and more like engineering. On heavy days we keep the Root small and strong, we cut friction wherever we can, and we protect the dignity of learners who are carrying more than books. Differentiation here is first aid for attention; inclusivity is oxygen. Together they let the pact of learning hold: we will teach peaceably and precisely so ideas can fasten and travel.

Begin where your learners actually board. Ask what the idea reminds them of. Offer a second door if the first is too high. Keep the thread visible. Use the OB-margin when you need to. Notice the moment the class breathes because the journey finally fits.

Love. Respect. Happiness. When this cluster is alive, you can hear them in the room: a kinder question, a steadier tone, and a train that carries everyone forward.