My experience participating in the AELC program has given me a more concrete understanding of inclusive education. Inclusive education is not merely about placing children with different abilities and backgrounds in the same classroom; it is an educational philosophy—one that believes every child has unique learning styles and emotional needs, and that education’s responsibility lies in creating a space that responds to this diversity.

What moved me most during the AELC project was not the curriculum content itself, but the atmosphere it fostered—one where students felt “permitted to be themselves.” Students from diverse cultural backgrounds and with varying language proficiency were encouraged to participate in ways that felt comfortable to them—some expressed themselves through drawing, others through physical movement, and still others through quiet observation. Behind this approach lies a deep respect for each learner’s “way of being.” This leads me to reflect that the core of inclusive education lies not in the technical aspect of “differentiated instruction,” but in a profound culture of “acceptance.” When a child feels fully accepted without needing to change, the space for emotional growth truly opens up.

Under the philosophy of inclusive education, classroom seating arrangements, lighting, acoustic environments, and display methods should not be merely “functional”; rather, they should be viewed as an implicit curriculum for emotional growth. For example, in the AELC program, the space is designed to include both “corners” and “centers,” as well as quiet zones and interactive zones. This design allows children with different temperaments to find their own “place.” A sense of security is the prerequisite for emotional growth, and the physical space is the most fundamental provider of that security.

In the practice of inclusive education, the most important skill for teachers is not lecturing, but “seeing” each child’s emotional state and participation style, and adjusting the pace of interaction accordingly. In the AELC program, I observed teachers squatting down to meet children at eye level, actively inviting quiet participants during group activities, and using nonverbal cues to confirm children’s understanding. These seemingly minor gestures are, in essence, a form of “being present” on an emotional level. For my research, this signifies that “emotional growth” within the educational space occurs not only through curriculum content but also in every moment of equal eye contact and patient waiting between teachers and children.

Moving from “judging children” to “understanding children,” inclusive education challenges assessment systems centered on standardized test scores. In the AELC project, students’ reflections are themselves regarded as significant outcomes. This approach conveys a value: children’s spiritual growth—including self-awareness, understanding of differences, and the courage to express themselves—holds greater significance than quantifiable scores. In my research, this prompts me to focus on those “hard-to-measure yet genuine” psychological shifts, such as children gradually daring to express differing opinions in a safe space, or the inner resilience they develop when facing failure.

The AELC project has shown me that inclusive education is not a “method,” but an “attitude.” It does not seek to make all children the same, but rather cherishes differences and views them as resources for shared psychological growth. For research on children’s psychological development within educational spaces, this means we must move beyond a focus on teaching techniques and return to more fundamental questions: Does this space allow every child to exist as their authentic self? Are adults truly present and providing emotional support? Do evaluations recognize children as whole human beings?

These reflections will help me, in my future research, to observe more specifically the “psychological microenvironment” within educational spaces—those unseen yet profoundly influential atmospheres, relationships, and unspoken rules that shape children’s growth.