In 1975 Congress
approved a law which gave all disabled children access to free public education
and mandated that schools provide individualized instruction in the least
restrictive environment possible. This was a great victory for previous
generations of families whose children had been secluded from schools and society
because of physical or mental delays and spearheaded, if not total acceptance,
at least the tolerance that people with disabilities experience today.
By the time our son, Jonathan entered preschool in 1983,
“inclusion” was the buzz word of special education and children with mental delays
were being mainstreamed into regular classrooms with the idea that being with
their “typical” peers would create positive, normative role models for them. The
pendulum swung from isolation to total access and Jon, who was born in 1980, is
part of a generation that was first to grow up in this inclusive environment.
My own pendulum has swung back and forth over the years as
we dealt with the positives and negatives of mainstreaming. Now that Jon is an
adult, I’m seeing the end results of the concept in real time. I have come to
the conclusion that it is not a one size fits all package. Inclusion worked out
fairly well in the elementary years. Jon had some friends at school, but being
in a regular classroom didn’t guarantee invites to sleepovers and birthday
parties or getting picked for the dodge ball game. The phone or doorbell seldom
rang after school or on weekends, with requests for Jon to come out and play.
The nuances of inclusion and being around regular developing
peers can give kids like Jon the hope that they will eventually live a “normal”
life, like everyone else. That can lead to disappointment and frustration for
those who are cognitive enough to know that isn't happening for them. Once Jon’s
peers reached the age when they began driving, dating, going off to college, joining
the military or finally getting married and starting their own families,
inclusion became a mute point. Everyone else moved on and Jon remained where
they left him.
I recently read a news story about a school in Ohio that is
trying what they refer to as “reverse inclusion”, bringing the typical high
school-er into the special ed classroom as part of their curriculum, to interact
with and assist their disabled peers (http://www.disabilityscoop.com/2013/03/19/in-twist-inclusion/17525/).
Some professionals and parents are offended by the idea, saying it is still segregation
and makes people with disabilities little else but a project.
I’m not so sure. Maybe bringing others into the world of the disabled, instead of always trying to fit them into ours, is a welcome addition. To truly understand the challenges of the disabled, their reality must be entered rather than viewed from the sidelines. It’s easy to ignore a special needs peer in a regular classroom while you laugh and talk with your other friends, but it is impossible to ignore him when you are on his turf and up to your eyebrows in his challenges.
I’m not so sure. Maybe bringing others into the world of the disabled, instead of always trying to fit them into ours, is a welcome addition. To truly understand the challenges of the disabled, their reality must be entered rather than viewed from the sidelines. It’s easy to ignore a special needs peer in a regular classroom while you laugh and talk with your other friends, but it is impossible to ignore him when you are on his turf and up to your eyebrows in his challenges.
I’ve discovered what is preached in the school system does
not always translate well into the real world of adult life. While schools may
create the environment of inclusion, what actually takes place in the community
for people with developmental delays costs money and a lot of it. With state
budgets shrinking, the services available to give people with disabilities the
most “normal” life possible ( which is the ultimate goal of special education
inclusion) are limited at best and many of the people who interact with disabled
adults, providing respite and companion care, job coaching, supported living or
transportation are usually family and paid “friends”.
Should inclusion be stopped? Absolutely not. I believe that
Jon’s function level was elevated and he benefited in many ways because of it. But
it is not the utopia that some professionals like to hang their PHD’s on, after
all inclusion is not just a law, theory or experiment but a matter of the
heart. Maybe a few of these typical kids in Ohio who participate in the world of
their special needs peers will later develop a heart for truly “including”
adults with disabilities without getting paid to do so. Maybe they will be the
ones that reach out to invite a disabled person to their home for dinner, to a
movie, for a walk or to church. Maybe they will be the ones who won’t mind
dealing with some of the issues that can come with developmental delays in
exchange for the joy and friendship that is returned. Just maybe…
Inclusion may now be viewed as the politically correct version
of assisting and incorporating the disabled population into everyday life, but based
on our experience and in my very humble opinion, anything that bridges the gap
is worth a try.
I totally understand and agree with all your wrote.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading, it means a lot :)
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