Viewpoints: Will complexity teams reach all children?

Behaviour never exists in isolation. Children do not arrive at school intending to struggle. Behaviour often communicates anxiety, sensory overload, frustration, trauma, communication difficulties, academic mismatch or unmet needs. For that reason, conversations about behaviour cannot be separated from conversations about inclusion.

Alberta’s investment in classroom complexity teams acknowledges what teachers have said for years: many classrooms no longer have enough support to meet the range and intensity of student needs. The initial K–6 teams typically include one teacher and two educational assistants. New teams for Grades 7–12 include a teacher and an educational assistant, with access to additional specialists. Any increase in front-line staffing is welcome. Another adult in the classroom can provide individual attention, support a small group or help a student regulate before a situation reaches crisis.

Meaningful inclusion requires appropriate instruction, specialized expertise and support based on individual need.

But additional adults do not automatically create effective inclusion. We must ask whether these teams will address the needs underlying classroom complexity or simply help schools manage its most visible consequences.

The government defines classroom complexity broadly, including academic, behavioural, social-emotional and linguistic needs. In practice, however, systems under pressure naturally respond first to whatever is most urgent and disruptive. A student throwing furniture forces an immediate response; a student who sits quietly but cannot read, who masks severe anxiety, who shuts down when overwhelmed or who stops participating may not.

Both students have unmet needs, but only one makes the problem impossible to overlook.

Within an already strained system, there is a risk of support being more likely to arrive when a student’s distress interferes with the learning or safety of others. Students whose unique needs appear as compliance, perfectionism, chronic absence, academic failure or quiet disengagement deserve appropriate supports, even if their behaviour is less disruptive. 

As both an educator and the parent of an autistic child, I have seen how easily quiet struggles can remain invisible. Meaningful support can be difficult to access, particularly when aggressive or disruptive behaviour is not being displayed. Ultimately, our family chose to pay for a private assessment to ensure our child would receive what he needed; we could not afford to lose more valuable time. No family should have to pay privately or to wait until a child reaches a crisis to access appropriate support.

There is also an important question about training. The public descriptions of complexity teams call for teachers and educational assistants, but they do not require the teacher to have a special education specialization or the educational assistants to hold specific provincial credentials. These individuals bring valuable knowledge and experience, but would best be complemented by expertise in autism, literacy intervention, communication, trauma or mental health.

A teacher and two educational assistants can reduce immediate pressure, but access to wraparound services — psychoeducational assessments, speech-language therapy, occupational therapy and specialized mental health treatment—is essential. Such supports help to not only respond to student behaviour but also address the underlying reasons for that behaviour.

The success of complexity teams should, therefore, be measured by more than the number of positions funded or behavioural incidents prevented. Are students receiving assessments and interventions sooner? Are children learning to read? Are students who communicate through withdrawal, avoidance or shutdown being identified? Are teachers gaining timely access to psychologists, speech-language pathologists, occupational therapists, behaviour consultants and mental health professionals? Are rural and remote students receiving equitable support?

Inclusion is not simply placing students in the same classroom, nor is it achieved when adults become better at containing visible behaviour. Meaningful inclusion requires appropriate instruction, specialized expertise and support based on individual need.

Complexity teams may be a valuable part of the answer, but they cannot become a substitute for properly funding inclusive education. Visibility is not the same as need. If Alberta measures success only by whether classrooms appear calmer, the students who struggle quietly will remain exactly where they have always been: present in the classroom, but unseen by the system meant to support them. 

Tamara Hatch is an educator currently teaching in northern Alberta. She holds bachelor of music and bachelor of education degrees from the University of Lethbridge, a master of science in education in special education and a graduate certificate in autism from the University of Kansas.