Last month I wrote in Tes about the invisibility of neurodivergent teachers, the absence of data on them, the silence within the profession about this and the questions that silence raises.

A second article asked what education could learn from other regulated professions that have begun to take their neurodivergent workforces seriously.

Both articles asked questions. Neither could answer them with data because the data did not exist.

However, a recent question submitted to Teacher Tapp asked educators whether they considered themselves to be neurodivergent, and 9,510 replied.

It is a substantial number for a survey, but it is worth acknowledging that the results are self-reported, not clinical. However, in a space where almost no workforce data has existed previously, they provide the most substantial picture that we have. So what are they telling us?

How many teachers are neurodivergent?

The top-line figure is that 25 per cent of teachers self-identify as neurodivergent. NHS Cambridge University Hospitals estimates that around one in seven people in the general population consider themselves neurodivergent. Teachers are coming in at nearly double that rate.

Some of that gap reflects the fact that teachers have greater professional exposure to neurodiversity frameworks than most people. But it is still a substantial gap, and it sits within a wider data problem that is worth acknowledging.

Even for pupils, the picture is incomplete. The Department for Education states that around 15 per cent of the school-age population is neurodivergent, yet formal identification through education, health and care plans (EHCPs) and SEN support captures around 19.5 percent.

The number of pupils with EHCPs, meanwhile, has doubled since 2016, driven largely by improving identification. All of this suggests that the teacher figure, while not empirical, likely carries weight.

A generational shift

Teacher Tapp also shared further information with me on the data behind the top-line figures.

The age breakdown is striking. Some 34 per cent of teachers in their twenties self-identify as neurodivergent. That figure falls to 27 per cent among those in their thirties, 22 per cent in their forties, and 18 per cent among teachers in their fifties and above.

Younger teachers are more likely to have been identified during their own education, which explains part of this pattern. But it also means the profession is recruiting from an increasingly neurodivergent pool. The question is whether it has the culture to retain them.

Teacher Tapp’s additional analysis suggests reasons for concern. Neurodivergent teachers in their thirties are significantly more likely to say they are considering leaving the profession than their neurotypical peers.

These are experienced educators at a critical point in their development. What is driving their thoughts of leaving? And what is the profession doing about it?

Who reaches the top?

This matters even more when you cross-reference role, age and neurodiversity responses.

Overall, 26 per cent of classroom teachers self-identify as neurodivergent. Among senior leaders, the figure is 17 per cent.

Senior leaders tend to be older, and older teachers identify at lower rates. So Teacher Tapp tested whether the gap was simply explained by age. It was not.

Among teachers in their twenties and thirties, 30 per cent of classroom teachers identify as neurodivergent compared with 21 per cent of senior leaders in the same age group. Among those in their forties and above, the figures are 22 per cent and 15 per cent respectively.

Is this a pipeline problem? A culture in which neurodivergent educators do not see senior leadership as a place for them?

The data cannot answer that. But it raises a harder question: if neuroinclusion is to mean anything for the children in our schools, does it not need to start at the top rather than be retrofitted from below?

I have ADHD and led schools for 15 years as a neurodivergent headteacher. This is not about lowering standards. It is about understanding people well enough to work with their strengths rather than against their differences.

In the right environment, I excelled; in the wrong one, I shrank to fit in. What might schools look like, for everyone within them, if that understanding ran through every level of leadership?

What next?

Should the DfE consider expanding the School Workforce Census to capture neurodivergence specifically? Should professional bodies ask whether their frameworks inadvertently work against neurodivergent educators?

And at school level, the most uncomfortable question of all: is our school genuinely neuroinclusive for the adults within it, or do we reserve that commitment for the pupils?

Because here is the difficult truth that this data surfaces: you can have all the SEND reforms you like, but culture eats policy for breakfast every time.

The aim now, therefore, has to be to use the data here as a starting point to more truly understand the extent of neurodiversity in the education workforce and create a culture where all types of teacher can thrive.

Chris Benson is a former headteacher who has led schools in the UK and internationally, including in both France and Monaco. He is education lead for the national charity ADHD UK