In order to get certified, I am currently taking "Teaching the Exceptional Student in the Classroom" which is code for "learning the law regarding children with disabilities and special needs so the school doesn't get sued." I will be posting the occasional paper from that class. The paper below has to do with the problem of inclusion. Inclusion is the idea that instead of sequestering children with disabilities, they should be included in mainstream classes (the proper term is "general" classroom). I have very mixed feelings about this, not because I am opposed to inclusion but because the philosophy behind it seems so demanding.
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The philosophy of inclusion is enlightened and enchanting in its possibilities. However, like so many abstract concepts, implementation can prove difficult. I have a great deal of sympathy for teachers who are put off by both the complications of special education law and by the demands of implementation. I agree with Debi Smith and Betty Bolte (Smith, 48) that collaboration is the best solution, although collaboration can produce complications as well.
My teaching experience is mostly at the college level-—I currently teach English at both Southern Maine Community College and Andover College-—although I have substituted at the high school level and in resource rooms. In the college setting, I deal mostly with learning disabilities rather than physical impairments or mental retardation. My following comments rise mostly out of perceived obstacles encountered by elementary and high school teachers; some of my comments deal with the end result-—what I encounter at the college level.
I believe in teaching. I believe in the necessity of conveying basic instruction to people of all ages and all backgrounds. It is very exciting to develop and utilize different techniques in order to connect with a wide range of students. Yet I am increasingly frustrated by how much teaching has morphed, even at the college level, into social management. Teachers have always had to deal with administrative issues, but current teachers seem to be self-contained CEOs, required to keep afloat a multitude of meetings, legal requirements, collaborative sessions, interventions, supervisions, mediations, anything and everything except teaching. Students benefit socially and emotionally from such a well-organized system, but the educational fall-out can be severe. I find it profoundly disturbing how little my 20-year-old students know about basic writing and grammar even while they expect constant supervision and direction. It worries me how little they are willing to think on their own.
Furthermore, I wonder how many potential teachers-—people who know how to communicate ideas and ground students in fundamental concepts-—are put off by the expectations of inclusion. The law itself can be rather daunting, especially since teachers are so exposed to public criticism. I worked as a secretary for ten years. Being a secretary is a hard job; you are at the beck and call of others, yet even as a receptionist, I was never answerable, performance-wise, to more than three people. Now, I have seventy people with some say in how I teach. That doesn't include the heads of my departments, college administrations, accreditation committees, students' parents (not as big a concern in the college environment, thank goodness). Consequently, I've developed a thicker skin, but I've never been able to shake the vague uneasiness that accompanies any environment with multiple rules. I would never purposefully ignore a legal requirement, such as finding a note taker for a student. But suppose, through lack of communication, I failed to follow through on such a request? What would happen to me? Students have sued colleges; suppose, unintentionally, I leave my department open to such an action?
Teachers bear the brunt of many of our culture's expectations and, consequently, are expected to perform duties that go beyond teaching. I want desperately for my students to reach their educational goals: write a clear essay, use correct punctuation, properly research information. In order to help them reach these goals, I have to accommodate different learning styles while keeping the class involved and on-task. It can be very difficult, and I cannot imagine running the kind of classroom envisioned in Teaching Students with Special Needs where all mental, physical and cultural diversities are simultaneously recognized and celebrated (Smith, 41). Teachers do get to know their students (better, I sometimes think, than the students realize), but understanding is difficult enough amongst our closest friends and relatives; to expect that level of understanding from teachers towards all of their students regarding all aspects of their students' lives seems, well, a bit demanding.
That being said, the philosophy of inclusion is the right philosophy, and legal efforts on behalf of children with special needs are right and commendable. It does not surprise me that children with disabilities do better when incorporated into general education classrooms. During one of my subbing jobs in a resource room, I witnessed a young woman of nineteen with severe retardation (possibly Down syndrome). She was the oldest student in the room. Throughout the day, she became repeatedly belligerent and aggressive. She cheered up when a senior from a general education class came in; she addressed the senior by name in a pleased, excited voice. At some level, she must have felt the wrongness of being nineteen and yet removed from students close to her in age. I felt rather limp and ineffectual (even more than the usual substitute blues); she was so frustrated, yet unable to articulate her frustration. And yet, after all, what could anyone do? She attended general education classes, but her disability was severe enough that she spent a lot of time in the resource room. The resource room concentrated on both teaching and life skills, and she returned to the room mostly for the latter. Although the resource room staff (there must have been about five of them overall) struck me as somewhat patronizing, they were also reasonable and patient and, quite frankly, I didn't have to deal with the young woman everyday. (The aggressiveness was a daily occurrence.)
I think this indicates the crux of uneasiness over inclusion: how much is enough? There is always something to be done, and ideally, we should always try to make people's lives better. Realistically, money is a concern; time is a concern; resources are a concern. And they will always be concerns; even if every school in the country had all the money it asked for, such concerns would still arise: human needs and desires are limitless; money and time and resources will always run short.
With that in mind, I am a huge advocate of peer support. I have found that group learning can be quite effective. There are always students in my classes who never speak and students who answer every single question; there are students who have difficulty motivating themselves, and students who are self-motivators. When I mix up the groups (and mix them up good, so the students aren't simply grouped with their neighbors), the outcome is always better. The mix leads to collaboration. Students encourage each other, learn about each other, and exchange ideas. Also, since teaching is the best way to learn, encouraging high performance students to teach low performance students can keep the high performance students engaged.
Collaboration is the key to inclusion. I promote peer support, rather than professional collaboration, simply because it seems more accessible. But consultation with colleagues is always helpful. Some of the best teaching advice I've received came from other adjuncts. Many times, they have been-there-done-that and can suggest possible solutions.
Collaboration is necessary for any teacher, and constant collaboration, especially for elementary school teachers, who are isolated from their peers, is vital. The dark side to collaboration is that it depends on other people: other people's availability; other people's understanding; other people's agreement; other people's personalities! Ms. Moffett's First Year by Abby Goodnough records the tension between a new first grade teacher and the school's principal. Ms. Moffett, the teacher, is inexperienced but committed and wants to try different teaching techniques. The principal considers Ms. Moffett's ideas foolish and unnecessary; she is more concerned with a stable and well-disciplined classroom. Ms. Moffett comes off as somewhat naïve, but a principal with a different personality might have understood Ms. Moffett's intentions and encouraged her creativity rather than squashing it.
But then, all schools could use perfect principals as well as perfect teachers. And that isn't possible. To be honest, my primary reaction to Teaching Students was exhaustion. How can anyone live up to these ideals? I understand the necessity of complying with the law, and I commend the promotion of inclusive classrooms, but I sure wish Teaching had a less rose-colored view of the issues at hand. How about stories where things didn't work out? However, perhaps the authors are right; disillusionment has never been a particularly good instruction tool. Inclusion is important as well as collaboration, and teachers should attempt to live up to those ideals, no matter how often they fall below the mark.
Book: Teaching Students with Special Needs in Inclusive Settings by Tom E.C. Smith et al. 4th edition. Boston: Pearson Education, Inc., 2006.
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