I’m a social worker. We’re nosy. We want to know what’s going on. And we like to help others to know what’s going on. We also understand and uphold social justice, speaking up for communities, and being involved. Most people think of social workers who work for the county, or those working mental health, but the truth is, we are trained to understand the complexities of systems, of intersectionality, and of identifying needs, creating plans to address those needs, and evaluating our work. So the following comes from that place, while also being a real human. A parent, a voter, and a community member who deeply loves her small town.
When I talk about civic engagement, I don’t mean just showing up to a meeting, although that is a fantastic place to start. I mean building systems that don’t punish people for having lives. I mean design that reflects reality—not tradition. And most of all, I mean asking better questions about who is missing, and why.
A lot of what I laid out in my piece Inside the Meetings: What Small-Town “Access” Often Misses came directly from my training and work as a social worker. Years of supporting clients, families, students, and systems has taught me this: if something is hard for me to navigate—and I’ve been trained in this—it’s almost impossible for the average person.
When people think about accessibility, they often think about ADA compliance or translation services. And those are vital. But access is also child care. It’s knowing what time the meeting is. It’s understanding what the words on the agenda even mean. It’s having a ride. It’s being able to speak without your voice shaking or your trauma history taking over. It’s being heard when you do speak.
That’s why my recommendations weren’t just policy-level: they were people-level. As a therapist and community educator, I’ve helped folks navigate school systems, public health agencies, food assistance applications, eviction threats, IEP meetings, and more. I’ve seen where systems falter. I’ve seen where good ideas get blocked by logistics.
So here are my expanded suggestions—not because I think they’re perfect, but because I believe we need to start somewhere. Start real. Start local.
Expanded Access Recommendations (Rooted in Lived Experience + Professional Insight):
Transportation
- Partner with rideshare orgs, nonprofits, and support networks to provide free or reduced-cost transport on meeting nights.
- Create a social-media-based rideshare group for community members to offer/receive rides.
- In areas with limited transit, fund short-route shuttles between neighborhoods and meeting sites.
Child Care
- Collaborate with local high school seniors (18+) enrolled in Child Development or ROP Teaching classes to provide basic, supervised childcare during meetings.
- Provide youth volunteer credit or mentorship for helping with civic childcare.
- Encourage on-site family-friendly meeting formats with quiet play areas or breakout rooms.
Scheduling and Submission
- Let people submit public comments in writing ahead of time, with clear deadlines and follow-up options. Our representatives, that we voted for, are there to represent us, not act as some paternalistic figurehead. They should be representing our voices wherever and however they can.
- Include asynchronous options—email, video submissions, and even voicemail messages.
- Post full, integrated meeting calendars online, with updates and a centralized place for all meetings, and allow for email/text notification signups.
- Designate time at libraries where staff can assist with civic tech access.
Language and Understanding
- Form youth-led committees at local high schools or colleges to translate agendas into plain language and share updates on school announcements, bulletins, and/or newspapers.
- Assign volunteers to create “Civic Decoder” cheat sheets to demystify city government terms and acronyms.
- Post translated versions of all materials and allow people to select language preference when subscribing to updates. With the use of AI and other technologies, this is not very time consuming or difficult to do.
Mental Health and Public Speaking
- Post a video on “what to expect” at your first public meeting. Have board member(s) create short, fun, and inviting walk-throughs and tours of the meeting room and what happens behind the scenes for more transparency and availability. Include seating, speaking format, comment rules.
- Representatives should also be more accessible and seen more in the community—and not just in performative ways.
- Offer public speaking tip sheets online or in-person at community centers.
- Recruit therapists, LCSWs, or social work interns to host confidence-building workshops before controversial meetings. Providing links to resources already created, bonus if they are local creators.
Higher Ed Engagement (Because Young Adults Are Ready)
- Host at least one City Council or School Board meeting a year on a local community college campus. This is a space that already has infrastructure for parking, access, and student presence.
- Involve journalism, political science, and child development/teaching students in writing recaps or live-tweeting meetings in plain language, and to offer varying professional and personal opinions, where appropriate.
- Have child development majors co-facilitate child care or even observe meetings as part of their study on community systems.
- Offer civic internship credit for students who assist with research, live streaming, accessibility formatting, or multilingual summaries of meetings.
These are not radical proposals. They’re rooted in practicality and equity.
Reflections on Access
I’ve also been the parent, navigating the system for my own child—and feeling just as lost.
My older son was an only child for nearly nine years. He’s quirky, brilliant, and raised in a house full of social workers, musicians, and questions. He had an old-school teacher in second grade—one who valued obedience over curiosity. She ambushed me during pickup time, airing grievances about his behavior in front of him and others. There was no warning. No invitation to collaborate. Just a public shaming session for a kid who just wanted to understand why.
I looked her in the eye and said, “That’s okay—he won’t be returning on Monday.” And without missing a beat, she replied, “Fine by me.” Right in front of him. That was it. I pulled him from school that weekend.
We homeschooled for three years. He went to counseling. He adjusted to a changing family and a new baby brother. He was diagnosed with ADHD, ODD (which I questioned), and likely ASD—on the “Asperger’s-type” end of the spectrum. He’s smart, stubborn, and deeply sensitive.
When we returned to public school, I requested a 504 plan.
I was told he didn’t qualify. I was told I needed to reinforce rules at home. I was told it was my fault, as a parent. He did well on tests. He wasn’t disruptive enough. In other words: he didn’t look disabled enough.
It wasn’t until he was nearly placed in an independent study program that they agreed to evaluate him. And once supports were finally in place, he thrived. THRIVED.
This happens all the time. I’ve seen it in therapy with clients who “mask well” or get good grades but fall apart after school. The system says they’re fine because the data looks good. But the data doesn’t measure distress. It measures performance.
And that’s the throughline here.
Whether you’re advocating for your child, your community, or yourself—access shouldn’t require insider knowledge, perfect behavior, or professional credentials. If I, with a background in social work and a deep understanding of these systems, still felt overwhelmed and dismissed… imagine how many others hit that wall and stop knocking.
We cannot build truly inclusive civic systems if we’re only designing them for the people who already know how to speak the language, clear the hurdles, and push past the gatekeepers.
Access should not be a test of endurance. It should be an open door.
Want to learn more or expand your own advocacy lens? These are good places to start:
- Democracy Is Not a Spectator Sport by Arthur Blaustein
A clear, inspiring guide on how everyday people can get involved in community change. - Pew Research Center: Civic Engagement in the Digital Age
Data-driven insights into who participates, who doesn’t, and the barriers that keep them out. - Design Justice Network Principles
A radical but practical framework for rethinking how we build systems—centering those most impacted. - Wrightslaw
A go-to resource for understanding special education law, 504 plans, IEPs, and advocacy tips for families navigating school systems. - The ADA National Network
A central hub for understanding what “accessibility” actually means under federal law—and how to apply it to schools, cities, and public services.
I believe local government could be the most humanizing level of civic life—where neighbors help shape systems that work for each other. But it only works if those systems are open to all kinds of people, with all kinds of realities.
You can read the full original article here: Inside the Meetings: What Small-Town “Access” Often Misses. Want to help make your town more accessible? Share this with a school board member, city planner, or PTA lead. Start a conversation. Start small. Start where you are.
Thanks for being here. For caring. That’s a form of participation, too.
A homeschool learning space with educational posters on grammar (prefixes, suffixes, adverbs, synonyms, root words), a detailed whiteboard lesson plan, a student desk with books, a behavior chart, and a small table with supplies—capturing a structured, supportive environment designed for a child learning at home.
Let’s build systems that don’t just technically allow participation—but make it real, reachable, and rooted in humanity.
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