From: "Citizenship in School: Reconceptualizing Down Syndrome" - Christopher Kliewer
When we started this course, one of the first activities we did asked us to reflect on certain privileges that people who fit into the dominant ideology (based on Straightness, Christianity, Whiteness, Able-bodiedness, American-ness, Male-ness, Property Ownership) take for granted on a daily basis. When thinking about able-bodiedness, it was easy to understand how an individual in a wheelchair may not be able to participate fully in a world/school/classroom unless it was specifically designed to include him or her. It wasn't until just a few weeks ago that I understood more fully the term "able-bodied," how many individuals don't live up to the dominant ideology's expectations, the infinite ways that their voices and experiences are silenced...and how much our schools are at fault for maintaining the status quo.
Kliewer poignantly states that "acknowledging students with Down syndrome as thoughtful, creative, and interested learners with personal identities that distinguish them from all other people suggests an individual value that enhances any context containing the child" (86). Each individual student, disabled or non-disabled, has a unique viewpoint and experience that they can share with their classmates. Their classmates, in turn, build webs and connections to these people and experiences; Vygotsky's research and writing clarifies the understanding that children are "active constructors of knowledge who constantly enter into new relationships of understanding with adults, peers, and materials," leading to "...constant reformulation and recontextualization of understanding" (82). Kliewer refers to Vygotsky's findings and relates them to the "culture of segregation" that is usually associated with children that have mental disabilities, such as those with Down syndrome.
Two weeks ago, I covered the isolation classroom for students with special needs at the middle school after teaching my two classes. In this room, there are between four and seven students at any given time (depending on when particular students attend extracurricular classes), and four adults. Two of the students aren't in any inclusion classes, and only leave the room to use the bathroom and go to lunch. Three of these students have Down syndrome, and the others have moderate-severe disabilities that prevent them from joining an inclusion classroom. The work they are asked to do is boring, and the day seems to revolve around having something (busywork, games, etc.) for the students to do so they won't act out and misbehave. This isn't the only thing that bothers me about that classroom.
What I noticed during the days I covered the isolation room was that when regular-education (non-disabled) students came into the room for advisory, they walked straight past the other students and huddled in the back corner, trying not to make eye contact with any of them. There were no friendly exchanges or advisory games, and the regular-ed students couldn't get out of the classroom quick enough once the bell rang to signal the end of advisory. These students, and the teachers that allow this non-interaction on a daily basis, are reducing the level of democracy in the school, and ultimately, in their world: "to eliminate a single person through any form of banishment, no matter how benevolent the logic, reduces the web and makes the community a less democratic and less rich place" (95). If these students with disabilities can't join a regular education classroom, and other students can't even acknowledge their existence in their own classroom, how will they know how much they have to offer the world? If these students with Down syndrome and different mental/physical disabilities are treated as "other" or "lesser" compared to the rest of the student population, nobody gets to benefit from all of the magic and wonder that they have to offer, because every single student has these things to offer. We have to be the change agents, the teachers that advocate for respect of all students, both as "active agents in the learning process and essential members of the learning community."
Reading this article reminded me of a video I saw earlier this year about a magnificent little boy named Owen and his dog Haatchi. Dogs (and other animals) are often used to help treat and educate young children with mental and physical disabilities. Why can't we encourage our students to view the world as these animals do: that all humans are capable and deserving of love, companionship, and happiness? Why can't we, like Dewey, foster the belief that "schools must serve as the sites in which children develop both a sense of commitment to one another and a sense of self-direction leading to the deepest and best guarantee of a larger society which is worthy, lovely, and harmonious?"
Tina,
ReplyDeleteGood point to bring up: "to eliminate a single person through any form of banishment, no matter how benevolent the logic, reduces the web and makes the community a less democratic and less rich place" (95). In my elementary school and the building where I attended 5th and 6th grade, the students who were not in regular education had a room in the basement next to the boiler room and boys bathroom. I remember seeing them when I would walk past the classroom thinking (as a 5th grader) why are these students always down here? it was close to the bathrooms, the cafeteria, and the wheel chair elevator was located form the entrance down to the basement level. It was an understanding by the time I left that school that "those students were very different from me." Students did treat them differently and that was because we saw them around the school, but they were never integrated with us. We saw them outside playing with the aids and themselves at recess and never integrated with us. Sat in the back of the auditorium and never integrated with us. I am thinking what kind of message that is saying to the community at our school. Students didn't acknowledge their existence in their own classroom and no body did anything to integrate them.
Yes, Ken, I remember the same thing! I can't help but think of the message it said to the community at school about the community in general, and now I look back and wish I had done more to help all students feel welcome when I was a student that held certain unearned privileges. I guess that's part of the reason I'm a teacher now.
DeleteTina, this story is so difficult to hear. As you said, it shows that we are not living democratically and also highlights the culture of stigma and shame surrounding illness and disability. It reminds me of Aimee Mullins's Ted Talk. As an amputee, she was going to speak to 300 6-8 year olds - but under one condition - the parents had to leave the room so that the kids could ask any questions they wanted. This is brave of her and I don't think that every amputee or person with an illness or disability should have to answer any questions (just as the one girl in the room should have to speak for all women or the one African American should have to speak for all people of color). However, the years of muffled whispers and stares in the grocery store that Mullins was combating must be correlated to this non-interaction in advisory and other school settings. I think the real disability here is the dis-ability to have conversations and recognize the beautiful humanity in the people around us. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteBrit, I've never seen that Ted Talk...wow. How brave and inspiring...and how changed those children's lives must be after being allowed a tiny glimpse into the life of somebody very much unlike them, someone they had probably stared at in the grocery store or even at their own school. "I think the real disability here is the dis-ability to have conversations and recognize the beautiful humanity in the people around us." Yes, absolutely yes.
DeleteTina,
ReplyDeleteDogs are smarter than people, that's why they can handle so many situations that we can't. What bothered me first of all about your coverage, is the term "isolation class" how oblivious. My multiple pathways students gravitate toward our severe/profound students, and we have weekly classes with them, which are amazing. The more we interact with them and learn about them, the better the students in my class learn about themselves. When they have a voice, they truly become contributing and equal members of the group, and we all benefit. It's not enough to have them walking in the halls, and going to the gym, we need to recognize the individual, within them and within ourselves, so we can truly become we.
Hahaha, Brian, they definitely are way smarter than people! And I totally agree, I cringe every time someone mentions the room by its name, but that's all that it's ever been known as. I agree, it's definitely not enough to have them walk the halls to go to the gym (before all of the other students get out of class) and we need to pay attention to their voices and what they can contribute, "so we can truly become we" and so we can benefit from all the wonderful things they can contribute to our society.
DeleteIt's a sad commentary that classrooms like the "isolation class" you covered obviously still exist. What struck me is the fact that in theory, it's an "inclusion" advisory. Regular education students are in the same advisory as the special education students. However, it sounds as though the classroom is anything but an inclusive atmosphere. There is no real inclusion or even basic human interaction between the special education and regular education students. And I think this is often the case if the adults in the situation do not make these interactions part of an everyday routine. I think it starts with the adults (teachers, teacher assistants, administrators, etc.). Students look to these people to develop norms and models of a truly democratic atmosphere where people are valued for the differences they bring to the table. If communication and acceptance are not set up from the getgo, they will never have the opportunity to become authentic values practiced on a daily basis in the classroom.
ReplyDelete