The Right to Disclose

 

Something interesting has been happening lately.

Parents are choosing to limit who has access to their child’s diagnostic information. In some cases, parents are allowing the diagnostic report to be held only at the district level for the purpose of securing category-based funding, while not permitting the full assessment to be placed in the school’s red file and not allowing the inclusive education funding category to be listed on the IEP.

 

At first glance, this might seem surprising. Our entire education system operates under the assumption that support follows a specific diagnosis, inclusive education category, and corresponding funding. Yet what’s emerging is a quiet form of resistance. Parents are realizing that the BC Human Rights Code and the duty to accommodate do not require the disclosure of a specific diagnosis, only that the student has a disability, and that this protected characteristic is what triggers the duty to accommodate. In other words, schools are obligated to provide accommodations based on needs, not labels.

This distinction matters deeply. For decades, our education system has treated diagnosis as the key that unlocks support. Yet that same key can also open doors to bias, lowered expectations, and stigma. Many parents are tired of watching their child’s identity reduced to a funding code, instead of being seen as a learner with unique strengths, stressors, and cababilites.

By restricting the sharing of diagnostic information while still outlining their child’s needs, these parents are reclaiming control over their child’s story. They are saying: “You don’t need to know the name of the diagnosis to know how to meet my child’s needs.”

And they’re right.

The BC Human Rights Code makes it clear that the duty to accommodate is triggered by barriers related to a disability. What matters is the functional limitations, not the medical name. A child struggling with executive functioning, emotional regulation, or sensory processing requires understanding, flexibility, and collaborative problem-solving, regardless of whether that stems from autism, ADHD, trauma, or any other diagnosis.

This shift also exposes the cracks in our category-based funding model, which forces parents to seek labels to unlock resources. It’s a system designed for bureaucratic convenience, not human dignity.

Parents shouldn’t have to trade privacy for support.

At first, I was unsure why parents were taking this approach, but I’ve come to see it as a powerful act of advocacy and awareness. These families are not refusing to cooperate. Instead, they are challenging a system that ties support to labels instead of needs. Their actions remind us that the right to disclose also includes the right not to.

True inclusion begins when schools respond to human diversity without requiring a diagnosis to justify it.