The Wait-to-Fail Model in Education (Inspired by Dr. Ross Greene’s “List of Late”)

 

We’ve built an education system around waiting for children to fail.

First, we place them in environments that are not designed for their needs. We call it inclusion, but too often it means access without adaptation and presence without belonging. Then, when they begin to struggle, we document it. We track the “behaviours,” the “defiance,” the “inattention.” We wait for a diagnosis to match the behaviours that tell us a child is drowning.

But the diagnosis takes months, sometimes years. In the meantime, children fail again. They internalize the message that they are the problem. And as Dr. Ross Greene reminds us, we typically only respond after the child has repeatedly encountered the problem and communicated this to us through concerning behaviours (that thankfully we spent so much time tallying and documenting).

Rather than identifying and solving those problems proactively, we focus on reactive strategies such as teaching “coping skills” once frustration has already set in, sending students to a “calming corner,” offering breaks only after escalation, or prescribing regulation plans that come too late. We call it support, but it’s really containment.

These “late” interventions often assume a child is unmotivated or defiant rather than lacking the skills to meet an expectation. And when coping strategies don’t work, the response focuses on de-escalation protocols, discipline referrals, detentions, suspensions, and sometimes even restraint and seclusion. Each step further removes the child from learning, connection, and trust.

Our entire model of support is built on diagnosis as the gatekeeper to help. Services, accommodations, and funding all hinge on whether a child’s difficulties fit into a recognized category, whether they can be labelled in a way that unlocks resources. But learning differences and developmental variability don’t wait for paperwork. Children need support when they need it, not after a diagnosis confirms what educators and families have known for years.

When we tie support to labels, we create a hierarchy of deservingness. Some children get help because their struggles are visible or neatly categorized. Others, whose challenges are more subtle or complex, are left to “try harder.” This approach fails to recognize that all children, diagnosed or not, deserve responsive, flexible environments that adapt to their learning profiles.

Instead, we focus on “intervention strategies” and “teaching social skills,” as if children are blank slates to be corrected. We ignore the variability of the human experience and demand conformity and compliance. This approach not only erases individuality, it also fails to respect the natural developmental differences that exist across children.

Many of the skills that neurodivergent children have not yet developed, or what Dr. Greene calls lagging skills, cannot be explicitly taught through lesson plans or token systems. They are built through problem-solving conversations grounded in empathy and understanding. These conversations help children feel heard, reduce conflict, and strengthen the trust that allows growth to happen. Lagging skills emerge through relationship, connection, and a sense of safety, not compliance charts or consequence systems. Yet, in the business of education, the focus is always on “teaching” rather than understanding.

Each missed opportunity compounds. Assessment times drag on, support is limited, and educators are left trying to hold up a system that was never built to hold every child. Years slip by, years we cannot get back.

Yes, there isn’t enough funding. Yes, we desperately need more resources. But money alone will not fix a system built on the wrong foundation. The problem is deeper. It is in our beliefs. It is in how we see children.

We need to rebuild education on a foundation of human rights, where the child, not the adult, is the expert in their own experience. Where listening replaces labeling. Where support is proactive, not reactive. Where we respond to signals of struggle with curiosity, not compliance.

The change we need begins not with more programs, but with a radical shift in perspective. It begins when we stop waiting for children to fail and start creating environments where they can finally thrive.