Paraprofessionals are often the people who spend the most time with students with disabilities. That closeness can be powerful — paras can make students feel capable, respected, and understood. But it also comes with responsibility. When we, as educators, allow stereotypes to guide our thinking, we unintentionally set ceilings on what students can accomplish.
Sometimes those ceilings are based on a diagnosis, on what we think we know about a certain disability, or even on our own comfort level. And when we lower expectations, even unintentionally, students feel it. They learn less, grow less, and miss opportunities to build independence.
Stereotypes around disability show up in many ways:
None of these assumptions are true across the board, but they’re easy traps to fall into. And when we act on them, we limit the very growth we’re there to support.
There’s a phrase in education that has always stayed with me: the soft bigotry of low expectations. It means assuming certain students can’t achieve as much as others, and then lowering the bar in ways that look helpful but actually hold them back. I’m not talking politics here — I’m talking about mindset. Sometimes we think we’re being kind or sparing students from frustration by stepping in too quickly, keeping tasks too easy, or doing too much for them.
But whether it’s assuming a non-verbal student doesn’t understand, or that a student with an intellectual disability can’t make progress in academics, those lowered expectations become self-fulfilling. Students rise (or fall) to the bar we set for them. And while the reality is that teachers don’t always have the time, resources, or authority to provide the individualized support students truly deserve, paraprofessionals can make a difference by staying mindful of the expectations they communicate each day.
It’s important to be clear: not every student with an intellectual disability will master the same content as their grade-level peers — and that does not mean their learning is any less valuable. What matters is the growth they make and how it improves their independence and quality of life.
Think about a ninth grader who starts high school reading at a kindergarten–first grade level. If, over time, they progress to reading at a fourth-grade level, that progress is life-changing. Suddenly, they can fill out a job application, read street signs, or understand labels at the grocery store. That growth opens doors and creates opportunities for independence.
When we keep expectations high — not impossibly high, but high enough to challenge students — we help them achieve skills that matter far beyond the classroom.
One student I taught in 7th grade still comes to mind whenever I think about lowered expectations. He had been moved into my EBD classroom after being placed for years in a program for students with significant cognitive impairments. His behavior was described as angry and aggressive, and staff couldn’t manage him anymore.
It didn’t take long before I realized his real barrier wasn’t a cognitive impairment — it was a profound reading and writing disability. For years, he had been kept in classes where he was never challenged, never allowed to show what he could understand. And he was angry about it.
In my classroom, we did history in a discussion-based style. I asked questions, encouraged connections, and didn’t require heavy writing during learning. I let him take tests orally — I’d read the questions, and he would answer aloud while I wrote down exactly what he said. What he produced amazed me. He could compare the causes of the American Revolution to the causes of World War I. He connected themes of oppression, conflict, and independence that many students twice his age would struggle to see.
At parent-teacher conferences, I shared these successes. His mother cried. She told me it was the first time anyone had ever been told something positive about her son at a conference. That moment still hits me.
The last time I saw him, years later, he was working as a waiter in a local restaurant. He had found a place for himself, and I couldn’t help but think how different his story might have been if his teachers had kept assuming he “couldn’t.”
I’ve also seen students with learning disabilities fall into a cycle of learned helplessness. Adults think they’re being kind by doing too much for them, but it robs students of the chance to practice, build skills, and prove to themselves that they can. The real challenge is finding the balance — giving enough support so the student doesn’t shut down, but not so much that the message becomes, “You can’t do this without me.”
Then there was the first deaf student I ever taught, a seventh grader. When I took over the program, I found a storage room with his name taped above the door. Staff told me it was “his nap room.” When I asked if there was a medical reason, the answer was no. He just wanted to avoid school, and the adults let him.
His IEP even stated, “due to his hearing impairment, he hasn’t made much academic progress.” I couldn’t believe that was written into an official plan. A teacher’s lack of skill in teaching a deaf student is not the same as saying his deafness made learning impossible.
This student was also medically complex. When I began working with him, he couldn’t read or do math. His parents didn’t think he would ever be able to learn, though they were kind and supportive. I asked his mom to come in once a week for an hour — not just to help, but so she could see what I saw: that her son was capable of learning and making progress. That was the beginning of changing the narrative. Slowly, he stopped being treated like a preschooler and started being treated like the middle schooler he was.
This isn’t just my experience. There are countless stories of people with disabilities surpassing the limits others placed on them.
Stories like these remind us: it isn’t about deciding what a student can’t do. It’s about creating the opportunities and supports that let them show what they can do.
So what does it mean for paraprofessionals to avoid stereotypes and support students respectfully?
Paraprofessionals don’t need to be experts in every disability category. What they need is an open mind, respect for each student as an individual, and a commitment to avoid setting ceilings based on assumptions.
Our role is not just to get students through the day — it’s to prepare them for the future. When we hold high expectations and provide the right supports, students surprise us. When we lower expectations, we risk taking away opportunities they may never get back.
Support your classroom paraprofessionals with this simple, ready-to-use First-Day Essentials handout designed to help them feel confident and prepared from the start. Inside, you’ll find clear guidance on their role, what to watch for, and how they can effectively support students on Day One.
This printable resource includes quick dos and don’ts, a customizable teacher note, and an editable version so you can personalize it for your team.
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Set your classroom paraprofessionals up for success with this quick-start guide for Day One.
Clarify expectations in areas like:
supporting student participation
observing routines and behavior strategies
understanding the role of a para in your classroom
…so they feel confident, prepared, and ready to support your students.
Sign up now for instant access to this printable (and editable!) resource—perfect for building strong team collaboration from the very beginning.
