“I have learned that the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” - Harold Bloom Bloom’s statement, while rooted in the humanities, captures something profoundly neurological: learning is not just the transfer of knowledge, but the awakening of self-awareness. To feel one’s “own presence” is to recognize that one’s thoughts, emotions, and abilities matter - that one’s mind has value in the shared space of learning. For students with disabilities or neurodivergent profiles, this recognition can be life-changing. It transforms education from survival into participation, from being accommodated to being included. I am not a special education teacher, yet my passion for this work runs deep. As a high-school English teacher and now a doctoral student in Neurodiversity and Neuroeducation, my focus is on understanding how cognitive differences shape learning, engagement, and identity. My research examines how emotional intensity, sensory experience, and self-perception influence motivation, particularly for students whose brains process the world differently. My goal is not to “fix” neurodivergence but to reimagine education so that diverse neurological profiles are seen as natural variations of human learning, deserving of celebration rather than correction. Guiding students toward a sense of presence begins with validation. Many neurodivergent learners arrive in classrooms already carrying the message that their differences are deficits. Before any academic growth can occur, students must first experience belonging. For me, this means designing classrooms and systems that honor individual processing styles, offering flexible ways to demonstrate understanding, building sensory-friendly environments, and encouraging metacognition so students can articulate how their minds work best. From there, I strive to move beyond accommodation toward agency. When students can identify what supports help them succeed and advocate for those supports confidently, they begin to inhabit their own presence. They learn that their voice has authority. For example, when I teach writing, I emphasize not just the final product but the cognitive journey behind it, particularly how focus, emotion, and curiosity intertwine. This helps students see their learning as an active, living process rather than a performance to meet external standards. On a systemic level, my mission as a future educational leader is to ensure that neurodiversity is embedded into district culture, not treated as a specialized subset of education. That means supporting collaboration between general-education and special-education teachers, expanding professional learning around cognitive variability, and reframing Individualized Education Programs as pathways for empowerment rather than compliance. I believe that leadership must model the same curiosity and flexibility we ask of teachers. If administrators treat neurodiversity as an innovation lens rather than an obligation, every student benefits. Bloom’s phrase also calls educators to self-reflection. To awaken that presence in others, teachers must recognize their own humanity and limitations. As someone who is neurodivergent and transgender, I understand both the vulnerability and the strength that come from difference. My students have taught me that visibility itself can be an act of pedagogy: when educators stand authentically in who they are, they give permission for students to do the same. Ultimately, I am passionate about neurodiverse education because it represents the truest form of equity - one that acknowledges that every brain learns in relationship with its environment. My mission is to create classrooms, schools, and systems where students discover that their minds are not mistakes but marvels. To help a student realize their truth is the most crucial work an educator can do.