It is deeply concerning to me that children with disabilities are scapegoated in media coverage of inclusive education. Every time there’s a story on the inclusion model, it’s about a problem. Meanwhile, positive stories about kids with a disability are left untold. Parents and educators are concerned that our education system underserves our children. We can agree that support and expertise should be increased.
Opinions differ on what’s next. Some seem to support moving backward to segregated classrooms, but most want to continue our progress toward inclusive classrooms.
Do the naysayers understand inclusive education? They call it a “one size fits all” model, but it is the opposite. Inclusive education is about individualized education. If a child struggles in the classroom, there are options the school and teacher can use. What’s important is that the opportunity and support needed in the classroom is always there.
Some say that an inclusive education policy is not flexible enough to ensure teachers’ and students’ safety in the classroom. In my experience, when my son’s inability to self-regulate compromised someone’s safety, the inclusion policy’s flexibility meant he had access to the classroom and school activities where his success was assured.
After assessing, strategizing, and implementing a plan to support him best, my son spends most of his school day in the classroom. Thanks to his teacher and the whole school team, it’s easier for him to stay on task there.
Another claim about inclusive education that I dispute is that the model is unsustainable. For one thing, I refuse to view my son as a drain on school resources because he requires more support than some of his peers. Students with a range of abilities can and do learn from each other. Here’s an example. When my son attended a school event with a friend, they played a game and lost. Due to my son’s low frustration tolerance and lagging self-regulation skills, losing would normally upset him. But this time, he followed the social example of his friend. She just moved on, and so did he! This was the first time he did this. His social skills improved when he spent more time in the classroom.
On the other hand, my son was an early reader, so in Kindergarten and Grade One, he read to his peers; in Grade Two, his advanced math skills allowed him to share math strategies with his classmates. My son is not only learning from his classmates; he also has something to share with them.
I see inclusion working every day my son goes to school: when I sit at a team meeting and plan for his learning, when I see his teacher and resource teacher discussing his needs, and when the principal assures us that the teachers value my son and will continue to work to ensure he thrives. I see inclusion working when my son colours envelopes for birthday party invitations for his classmates, children he wouldn’t know or be friends with had he been segregated. I can list a few ways to improve the education system, but my suggestions wouldn’t be aimed at the inclusive education policy. They would be about supporting teachers so students can benefit.
Most adults grew up with segregation, a standard practice in our schools. When we encounter people with disabilities, we don’t know how to interact or offer support because we’ve had too little exposure to them. No wonder teachers and school staff are struggling to accommodate diversity. They not only lack support and expertise but also personal experience.
Today, thanks to inclusion and diversity in our schools, students do experience diversity. When they’re adults, they’ll be prepared for a diverse world where everyone has the right to belong. Debates about inclusion need to end! Our schools, workplaces, and communities must see inclusion as the norm.
To achieve this, parents and teachers must unite and push for the programs and resources needed to make our schools inclusive.
Kayla Wilcox is a parent of three children in Fredericton, NB. This commentary was edited from the original, written in 2018.
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