A nature-based education provider in Aotearoa has sparked outrage after an online post stated that neurodivergent children would need to be on medication in order to attend its programme.

The claim, reported by Stuff and quickly shared across social media, has been described by parents, disability advocates and educators as “unfathomable”, discriminatory and out of step with New Zealand’s legal obligations to disabled and neurodivergent learners.

What the school’s post appeared to say

In promotional material for its nature-based school, the provider reportedly outlined expectations for behaviour and participation. Tucked within that messaging was a line suggesting that neurodivergent children – such as those with autism or ADHD – would need to be on medication in order to access the programme.

While the school presents itself as a holistic, outdoor and child-centred alternative to mainstream schooling, critics say the wording sends a very clear message: neurodivergent children are only welcome if they are medically altered to fit the programme, rather than the programme adapting to fit them.

For many families, that condition cuts to the heart of an ongoing battle over who carries the burden of “fitting in” – the child, or the school.

Why families and advocates are calling it discriminatory

Parents of neurodivergent tamariki say the post reflects a wider pattern in education: schools embracing the language of inclusion while putting up barriers in policy and practice. Research into disabled and neurodivergent learners in Aotearoa has repeatedly found that many children still struggle to have their needs met in everyday classrooms, despite years of policy work on inclusion.

Advocacy groups have also warned that action plans and strategies for neurodiverse students often change little on the ground, with children still being excluded, asked to stay home, or pressured to comply with rigid expectations that don’t match their needs.

Against that backdrop, a school openly stating that neurodivergent children must be medicated to attend looks, to many, less like an isolated misstep and more like proof of a system that still treats them as a problem to be managed rather than learners to be supported.

What the law says about including disabled and neurodivergent learners

New Zealand law is very clear that disabled and neurodivergent learners have the same right to education as anyone else.

Section 34 of the Education and Training Act 2020 states that people with special educational needs – whether because of disability or otherwise – have the same rights to enrol and receive education at state schools as other learners, and places a legal obligation on school boards to provide inclusive education.

More broadly, the Human Rights Act 1993 prohibits discrimination on the grounds of disability in areas including education and access to services. Schools and private education providers cannot refuse enrolment or impose less favourable conditions simply because a child is disabled or neurodivergent, unless they can show that accommodating them would require unreasonable changes.

Framing medication as a blanket condition of entry for neurodivergent children is difficult to reconcile with those obligations. It effectively ties access to education to a medical intervention that may not be appropriate, wanted, or safe for every child.

Medication is not a gate pass

For many neurodivergent people, medication can be one helpful tool – but it is not a moral requirement, and it is not a shortcut to inclusion. Clinical decisions about whether to use medication should be made case-by-case, in partnership between families, young people (where possible), and health professionals, weighing up benefits, risks and alternatives.

Turning that nuanced medical decision into a simple “yes or no” gate pass for school shifts pressure onto whānau and children to change themselves, instead of asking what supports, teaching approaches and environments the school could change.

Experts in inclusive education and neurodiversity argue that genuine support looks more like: flexible routines, sensory-friendly spaces, visual supports, clear communication, predictable structure, and staff who understand autistic and ADHD ways of thinking and learning.

A wider conversation about who nature education is really for

Nature-based and forest-school programmes are often promoted as nurturing, calming and well suited to children who struggle in traditional classrooms. International research suggests that outdoor learning can support wellbeing and engagement for autistic and other neurodivergent students – when it is intentionally designed to meet their needs.

That is why this case has landed so badly with many parents. A setting that markets itself as child-centred and healing is, in their eyes, closing the gate on exactly the tamariki who could benefit most, unless they are made “easier” through medication first.

The message some families say they are hearing is: we want nature, but not all kinds of brains.

Where to from here?

The controversy around this nature-based school has reignited long-standing questions about how seriously New Zealand takes its commitment to inclusive education, particularly for neurodivergent children.

At minimum, it has highlighted three uncomfortable truths:

• Policies matter as much as marketing. A school can talk about kindness and connection, yet still embed exclusion in its fine print.

• Inclusion cannot be conditional on medication. Access to education should not hinge on whether a child’s neurology can be medically “smoothed out” to suit a programme.

• The burden must shift from children to systems. If neurodivergent tamariki are struggling, the first question should be “What can we change?” not “How can we make them more compliant?”

For many whānau, the hope is that this incident will not simply fade from the news cycle, but will prompt schools – mainstream and alternative – to revisit their enrolment policies, staff training, and everyday practices through a neurodiversity-affirming lens.

Because if a child has to be medicated to be welcome, the problem is not the child. It’s the school.