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• Building support for parents and caregivers
  

  Doctoral candidate and Haring Center Scholarship Fellow Yuanchen Kuo is reshaping how researchers and practitioners think about supporting autistic children by starting with their families Classroom experience, curiosity and a deep conviction that support should never stop at the school door—that is how Yuanchen Kuo, a doctoral candidate in Special Education at the University of Washington (UW) College of Education, is building a research career rooted in family partnership. As a Haring Center Scholarship Fellow and under the mentorship of Dr. Angel Fettig (Director of Research at the Haring Center and an Associate Professor in Early Childhood Special Education), Kuo has carved out a research focus that focuses on family quality of life. “Researchers and practitioners often focus a lot on autistic children only,” she says, “and forgot the parent part, or forgot their families. But if we wanted to meaningfully support autistic children, we also need to support their family members, because they spend most of the time with their parents, with their grandparents, not just in schools.” Kuo’s path to the UW winds through two continents and a formative five years in the classroom. Before pursuing her doctorate, she worked as a special education teacher in Taiwan, helping autistic students build social skills and teaching general education teachers to use evidence-based strategies, from adding visual cues in classrooms to embedding communication boards that gave students the tools to express their needs. Those years in practice sharpened a question she couldn’t let go of: what more could be done? “I wanted to learn more about the evidence-based strategies,” she says. That drive took her to the University of Texas at Austin, where she studied applied behavioral analysis (ABA), before she arrived at UW to pursue her doctorate and dig deeper into the literature, and into the lives of the families she had come to care about. At the UW, Kuo’s research has zeroed in on a gap she first noticed as a classroom teacher in Taiwan. When she would meet with parents to discuss their child’s behavior, they would inevitably share more than she had asked. They described the exhaustion of navigating waitlists for ABA services, the uncertainty of individualized education program (IEP) meetings, the weight of daily life with few reliable supports. “I realized there are a lot of difficulties they face in their life, not just the challenging behaviors,” she says. “And if I wanted to support them, I need to help them with those difficulties as well.” That insight became the foundation of the family quality of life support program she now runs. Unlike traditional parent training, which teaches caregivers specific behavior management strategies for specific routines, Kuo’s approach begins with a broader assessment of what families actually need.  Some parents want strategies for managing their child’s behavior at home. Others want to learn how to advocate for their child in IEP meetings, or how to navigate conversations with occupational therapists and speech-language pathologists, or simply where to find reliable services.  “I encourage them and empower them to let them know you have the right to share what you have observed at home, and what you want your child to learn,” Kuo says. “I can get the bigger picture of the family’s needs.”  The goal, she emphasizes, is sustainability, not just skills that fade after a program ends, but knowledge and confidence that families carry forward on their own. “I hope that after this parent training, they feel like, ‘I can do more by myself,'” she says. The Haring Center Scholarship, part of a broader commitment to train the next generation of leaders in special education research, has made that vision concrete. Through the Haring Family Endowed Fellowship, which supports doctoral students’ studies and professional development, Kuo has been able to provide participation stipends to recruit families into her study, purchase materials like visual timers for use at home, and compensate additional caregivers—fathers, grandparents—whose perspectives enrich her research.  “I’m very, very grateful,” she says.  The fellowship’s reach extends beyond logistics. It has enabled Kuo to conduct meaningful follow-up interviews with participants, conversations where the real impact of her work comes into view.  In one such interview, a mother broke down in tears. A full-time caregiver, she had long blamed herself for not being able to fully support her child. After completing Kuo’s program, something had shifted. “She finally knows she has a right to advocate for her child in school, or in any services,” Kuo recalls. “When she shared that she finally feels like she’s not a bad mom, she can do something for her child, that really touched me.”  It is the kind of transformation that, according to Kuo’s mentor Dr. Angel Fettig, speaks to something much larger than a single family and to the heart of what Kuo’s scholarship has set out to do. “Yuanchen has made significant contributions through her work focused on improving family quality of life for families of autistic children receiving behavioral and educational services. Her scholarship emphasizes the importance of understanding family priorities, cultural and contextual factors, and the everyday experiences of caregivers when designing behavior support plans and intervention services. Through this work, she has helped advance more family-centered, collaborative, and socially meaningful approaches to supporting autistic children and their families, aligning closely with the Haring Center’s mission of promoting inclusion, partnership, and equitable support systems. It has been a joy working with Yuanchen and watching her scholarly growth the past 4 years. I am excited for her continued journey to contribute to the field to support children and families,” Dr. Fettig says. Indeed, as she looks ahead, Kuo wants to turn her lens toward the practitioners themselves, the teachers and service providers who work alongside families every day.  “I’m not the only one who supports the parents,” she says. “I want to know more about the practitioner’s thoughts and perspectives, what barriers they face, and what support they need.”  Her goal is to eventually train practitioners to better support families from the inside out. For those …

• Interdependence, identity and belonging in Early Learning: A Conversation with Jordan Taitingfong
  

  Jordan Taitingfong is Director of Equity at the EEU at the Haring Center and an educator whose work explores disability identity, interdependence, and belonging in early childhood. A former teacher of young children and now an educator of adults, she examines how schools shape children’s understandings of race, disability, and power from the earliest years. Grounded in Disability Justice and Oceanic perspectives, her work positions disability as culture, history, and collective inheritance. Q: Can you describe your current role at the EEU and what your day-to-day work with teachers and staff looks like? A: I am currently the Equity Director at the EEU, and my work focuses on our values around equity, inclusion, and community belonging and how those show up in everything we do. I work with staff, especially teachers, on how those values are reflected in classroom practice. That includes professional development, reflecting on how our identities shape teaching, and thinking about how we support children in understanding their own identities.  Sometimes that looks like formal professional development, and sometimes it’s working with teams to navigate complex moments with children or families. Much of my role is helping teachers reflect on what’s happening in their classrooms and across the school so we can better support kids and families.  I’ve been at the EEU for more than twenty years. I started here as an undergraduate and have held many roles. I taught for ten years, and before that I was an instructional assistant and a graduate student. I also worked as a coach in the Professional Development Unit.  Those experiences, from working directly with kids and families to supporting teachers, now inform how I help guide the school’s work around equity and belonging. Q: What first drew you to equity and inclusion work in early childhood spaces? A: My own experience as a child definitely had an impact on my understanding of race and racism in schools. I grew up going to a Department of Defense school for elementary school, which was really diverse. Then in middle school we moved to northern Washington, where I was the only kid of color in my school. I had a lot of experiences with racism from the kids, the community, and also from my teachers. Later I became a teacher myself. As I continued to work in classrooms and think about those experiences, I started thinking more about how important it is to talk with kids about race in positive ways, especially for kids of color, so they can build a strong and protective sense of identity. I also started seeing similar patterns around disability while working in inclusive classrooms. I was especially thinking about kids who live at that intersection, children who both have a disability and are kids of color. I saw how differently they were experiencing the system, and how families were trying to support their children while navigating that. For example, the same diagnosis for a white child and a Black child could lead to very different outcomes in terms of resources or recommendations. Seeing that made me want to learn more about what was happening at the systems level so I could try to make changes for kids and families. I grew up on a Navy base in Rota, Spain. My dad was in the civil service, so I attended Department of Defense schools there through elementary school. Looking back now as an adult, I can see more clearly how disability and race were tied together in my own experience. In that very racially diverse environment, I was considered a gifted student and was placed in gifted classes. But when we moved to northern Washington, there was suddenly a lot of conversation about me being behind or about my behavior. That shift happened at the same time I was experiencing a lot of racism. I didn’t understand it at the time, but now I can see how connected those experiences were. Q: Can you share a moment, story, or example that captures why this work matters to you? A: A story that I share a lot really shows how important it is for adults to set, teach, and practice the values we want to see in a classroom. When we do that well, kids take those ideas and run with them in ways we couldn’t come up with ourselves. When I was teaching kindergarten, I had a set of twins in my class. One of them had a disability and was non-speaking and was just starting to learn how to use AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication). She loved to stim. She loved watching water, dropping toys, and listening to things fall. We were really struggling with the idea that she needed to play like the other kids. During free choice time, we kept trying to figure out how to include her in the same kinds of play as everyone else, even though that wasn’t what she wanted to do with her time. Throughout the year we worked really hard talking with the class about how everyone belonged in our classroom. Everyone was meant to be there. Everyone should be playing together. Leaving kids out was not okay, and being welcoming and kind was really important. One day a little boy came up to me and said she was taking all the marbles from their game and dropping them. He wanted me to solve the problem. I said, “It sounds like she really loves playing with them.” He looked at me and walked away. About ten minutes later we looked over and the kids had built a marble maze. They had set it up, on their own, and her job was to drop the marbles into the maze. In that moment they created something so much better than what we had been trying to do as adults. She was legitimately enjoying herself and playing. It wasn’t something we were trying to force. They figured it out. Our job was to teach them that everyone can play together …

• Q&A with Laura Areiza, Education Specialist, Haring Center for Inclusive Education 
  

  ​Education specialist Laura Areiza shares how land, language, and family shape her work in inclusive education and her hopes for strengthening belonging for multilingual learners. Read her Q&A below. To start, can you tell us a bit about yourself and what inspired you to pursue a career in inclusive education?  Laura Areiza My name is Laura, and my work is rooted in my experience growing up in a Native family in the Amazon region of Colombia, where oral tradition, community care, and learning from the land were part of everyday life. I have always understood education as something relational, something that happens in connection with others.  Working with children and families, first in Colombia and now in Seattle, showed me how much belonging matters. Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui reminds us that “there is no decolonization without listening to the stories of the people,” and that has guided me in my academic work. When I came to the U.S., I realized how many Latino and Indigenous families were navigating systems where their languages and ways of raising children were not always understood. That inspired me to dedicate myself to inclusive education, spaces where every child’s identity is honored, and families feel truly seen.  “When a child hears their home language in the classroom, even a single word, their whole-body shifts. They feel recognized. That sense of belonging is at the center of my approach.” You have done research on Indigenous storytelling and language revitalization. How do those traditions shape your approach to inclusion?  Native storytelling teaches us that knowledge is shared through relationships, memory, and land, not just through written text. My favorite Maya poet, Humberto Ak’ab’al, said, “My language is the land where my words were born,” and I carry that in my work. When I work with educators, I try to bring that same spirit: to listen deeply, to honor the stories children carry, and to create space for families to share their own knowledge.  Language revitalization also reminds me that inclusion is not only about access; it is about dignity and human rights. When a child hears their home language in the classroom, even a single word, their whole body shifts. They feel recognized. That sense of belonging is at the center of my approach.  How has your journey, from your work with children and families in Colombia to your current role in Seattle, shaped the way you think about language, culture, and belonging?  Moving between countries and cultures helped me understand the emotional weight of language. In Colombia, I taught children and adults in communities where Spanish is mixed with Indigenous languages. Here in Seattle, I see that same diversity, but sometimes families feel pressure to leave their language and culture behind.  In this respect, the educator who develops the evolved curriculum, Narcy Navaez, says, “Language and culture is medicine,” and my own journey taught me that belonging is not something you give to families. It is something you, as an educator, build with them. It means recognizing the strength of multilingualism, the history behind each family’s story, and the right of every child must show up fully as themselves.  You have supported many educators in adapting curriculum for bilingual and multicultural classrooms. What advice would you give to educators who want to make their classrooms more inclusive for multilingual learners?  Start with what children already know. Families hold so much knowledge, so invite them in. Use visuals, gestures, routines, and materials from everyday life. Keep language simple but meaningful, and let children move between languages without fear.  I like the idea Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui shares with us from Bolivia: “knowledge grows when worlds meet.” Most of all, remember that multilingual learners are not behind. They are expanding their world. Inclusion means giving them time, honoring their identity, and creating predictable environments where they can participate with confidence. Also, our children bring us the unique opportunity to learn different languages that are spoken in Seattle, and we should take advantage of that. Learning a different language has so many benefits for our health and society.   What are some ways you bring oral traditions and traditional knowledge into your work with children, families, or professional development?  Sometimes it starts with a song from my language, or a simple story about the forest, or a teaching from my grandma about plants. During our trainings, I invite educators to think of their own family stories, recipes, celebrations, or words from childhood, and to see those as part of a collective curriculum. We include land acknowledgement in different native perspectives on the world, including visuals, lullabies, arts, and customs. With children, I use nature walks, storytelling circles, call-and-response songs, and opportunities for them to narrate what they see and feel.   How do you hope the Haring Center continues to bring language and cultural identity into the inclusion conversation?  I hope we continue to center families’ voices, especially families who speak languages other than English and families whose stories have been historically and systematically ignored or segregated. The Haring Center of Inclusion has a beautiful opportunity to show that inclusion is not only about disability services; it is also about cultural safety, linguistic rights, and identity.  I would love to see more trainings in Spanish virtually and in person, more collaborations with community-based organizations, and more visibility for Indigenous and immigrant knowledge in our professional development. We build from down to up, and that means starting with a community of practice.  Finally, what gives you hope about the future of inclusive education?  What gives me hope is seeing children who are proud of who they are, and educators who want to learn how to honor that. I see families reclaiming their languages, providers advocating for their communities, and young children teaching each other kindness across cultures.  I believe that when we center identity, land, and family in early childhood, we build a future where inclusion is not a program or a checklist. We say in my culture, “We build until …