And now, more shameless self-promotion:
Education Week has gathered several stories about inclusion and assistive technology, many of which were written by yours truly, and put them together in a package that you can purchase for just $4.95! For more information, follow this link.
This'll be a light blogging week as I work on another story, but I wanted to pass this along: I have heard some parents of children with disabilities suggest that it is difficult to have "soft skills" included on their child's individualized education program. This study, from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, suggests why such skills are important.
According to a University of Illinois professor who studies the sociology of education, high school sophomores who were rated by their teachers as having good social skills and work habits, and who participated in extracurricular activities in high school, made more money and completed higher levels of education 10 years later than their classmates who had similar standardized test scores but were less socially adroit and participated in fewer extracurricular activities....
“That’s not to say that academic achievement in high school doesn’t matter – it does,” [the researcher] said. “But if we only look at standardized test scores, we’re only considering part of the equation for success as an adult in a global marketplace...."
For a look at Education Week articles and online chats on special education and social skills, click here. The website is hosting an "open house" through April 8, so this is an opportunity for you to read up (and hopefully, decide to subscribe!)
Happy New Year, everyone!
I'm taking a reporting trip this week that will have me posting lightly until Jan. 12 (teaser: it involves RTI!) But you won't have to go without special education reading. Here's some blog posts I have picked up in the past few days:
Jay P. Greene, a senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute, slices and dices numbers in a blog post that rebuts the idea that special education costs are to blame for rising per-pupil costs.
School officials — people who should know better — play upon this popular prejudice to rationalize their failures. They would never dare blame the programs that have been created or expanded in the last three decades for the education of poor and minority students. Those programs also cost quite a lot of money. No, school officials choose to blame special ed because it seems like blaming fate.
Andrea Hermitt, a blogger for the Examiner New York (part of a group of city-based news portals, suggests that family affluence may play a role in how parents see special education. An excerpt:
As I see it, affluent people want more services for children labeled Special Ed. Meanwhile, lower income, and minorities who feel that children are being unfairly labeled don’t want to end up in the system at all where they won’t get the help even if they need it.
Interesting thought, and worth reading the whole post, as well as an early one by the same writer on "the rush to label children." I noted that Ms. Hermitt makes an assumption that I have also made, which is thinking of special education as a "place" and not a set of services that are designed to, as Harvard prof Thomas Hehir puts it, "minimize the impact of disability and maximize the opportunities for participation." Sometimes that may mean taking students out of mainstream education. But special education should not be synonymous with separate placement.
Disability Scoop, a new blog, has a Q&A with a parent attorney about individualized education programs. Marcy Tiffany, the attorney, offers her top three tips for parents:
Try to avoid becoming adversarial. You want to focus on what the child’s needs are, not simply complain about what’s not happening. Once an IEP meeting becomes adversarial, it’s usually not going to be very productive. Many parents bring food, which helps to relax the environment.
Another mistake is lack of preparation. You must know what it is that you want to focus on and don’t rely on the school district to set the agenda.
University of Virginia professor and friend-of-the-blog John Wills Lloyd has a thoughtful entry on his own blog about the difference between pursuing "access" for people with disabilities, as opposed to "success." He explains it would be a "cruel irony" if the focus on access for students with disabilities -- for example, "talking books" or use of scribes -- overshadowed the pursuit of genuine academic achievement for students in special education.
Last week, I had the opportunity to interview Dan Habib, a former photojournalist who made a documentary about his son Samuel, now 8, who has cerebral palsy, and his family's efforts to ensure Samuel is fully included in school and home life. At right, you can see Dan and Samuel in a 2006 tee-ball game; Samuel is using a special walker to get around the bases.
From humble beginnings, Including Samuel has now been viewed by packed crowds around the country since its release last fall. The film bypasses some of the ponderous language that surrounds special education, and boils the issue down to its essentials: What is the right thing to do for this one child?
And, though the movie is just an hour long, Habib includes other voices, like a student for whom the regular school environment was not the right choice, and a teacher who candidly said that she felt that she lacked the right training to have students with disabilities in her classroom.
I wrote a column for Education Week about a nonprofit organization that is translating the documentary into Arabic to be shown to youth with disabilities in Iraq. But I also wanted to share some of Habib's thoughts on inclusion and education.
What are your feelings about full inclusion?
I feel full inclusion is vital not only for Samuel but for our society. Several years ago, my wife, Betsy, and I attended the University of New Hampshire Institute on Disability leadership series to learn more about being effective advocates for Samuel. We heard from disability rights advocates like Norman Kunc, who spoke about his “right to be disabled.” Norman said if offered a pill to cure his cerebral palsy, he would not take it. “If suddenly I got cured, I would have to start my identity all over again,” Norman said. “I like who I am, I like the work I do.” The leadership series helped us to see Samuel's disability as an intrinsic part--but just one part--of who he is.
I want people to get to know Samuel for all his wonderful and complex personality traits--not just as "the kid in the wheelchair." That will happen only if Samuel is fully included in our school, community--in everything we do. My hope is that this film will inspire the public, especially anyone connected to education, to talk about inclusion in a more informed and innovative way.
In the film, inclusion is handled differently by everyone who encounters it. Do you think this is a good thing, or should the process be more standardized?
Today, inclusion is still happening inconsistently throughout the country. It varies state to state, town to town and classroom to classroom.
Joe Petner of the Haggerty School (featured in the film) says we should not have to reinvent inclusion every time we try it; that for inclusion to be successful, it has to be a transferable model, not dependent on extraordinary leadership or funding. He says the most important factor in making inclusion work well is a community's commitment to the spirit of inclusion; the details will fall into place if that overall commitment is there. Administrators need to set the tone that inclusion is always the preferred path--it is written that way in [the Individuals with Disabilities in Education Act].
But inclusion can only work well if teachers and students have the proper supports in place to do it well. That includes training, technology, well-trained paraprofessionals, and planning time.
What kind of response did you get from Samuel's educators when you expressed your desire for him to be fully included in school life? Did you find universal acceptance or did it require a bit of "pushing" on the part of your family?
We don't expect Samuel's teachers to have all the answers. And we know it won't always go smoothly. We just want them to say, "let's work together to figure this out." So far, all of Samuel's teachers have really wanted to make it work, and they understood that inclusion is the right thing for all children. Like us, they believe all kids benefit from inclusion, because it teaches them that the real world has people of all abilities, and that disability is part of the natural diversity of our society. And they have told us that it has made them better teachers, because they've honed the skills they need to reach every child.
When we pushed to have Samuel's therapy (physical, occupational, speech) integrated into the class activities so that Samuel would not be pulled out of the classroom, some of the therapists were surprised, but not resistant. They said, "We haven't done that before, but we can try." That is what we ask for: that they try to the best of their ability..
I empathize with teachers and specialists that don't have support from the administrators. That makes it almost impossible to do inclusion well.
What kind of advice would you give to parents so that they can also learn how to advocate appropriately for their children?
First, decide what you want most for your child. Then map out a path to get there. We have a magnet on our refrigerator that says, "The purpose of our lives is to be happy." We believe that Samuel's happiness is directly tied to his acceptance and involvement in our community. And the school is the hub of the community. If he is not fully included there, how can he be fully included in community? Because the neighborhood kids go to school with Samuel, they know the subtle ways he communicates, and they feel comfortable playing with him in our neighborhood. That makes him happy and feel accepted by his peers. That builds up his self-esteem, which all kids need--especially those with disabilities.
I'd also tell parents that the IEP (individualized education program) is a very powerful legal document. Play an active role in crafting that document so that it contains everything you believe sets up your child--and his/her teachers and therapists--for success in school. Then, stay involved to make sure the IEP is implemented.
We try hard to be team players with the school staff, and avoid antagonist relationships whenever possible. We try to get involved in other volunteer aspects of our school. But a parent recently sat next to me on a panel and said, "I will never apologize for advocating for my child. I get one shot at doing this right." That was powerful.
What advice would you offer principals and teachers when they are working with parents of students with disabilities? I hear so often about "pushy" parents or uncaring staff members, and it just seems like there has to be a way to get everyone on the same page.
Creating an IEP can be a traumatic and emotional process for parents, because it details all of the obstacles your child faces. Be empathetic to the pain this process can cause a parent.
Come into the relationship as a sincere problem-solver. Show that you see the child as a child, and not a case to manage. Get to know that child's strengths and personality traits. Make it clear that you presume competence, regardless of that child's "label." If you show that you genuinely want to include and teach the child, most parents will respond with a collaborative approach.
As the child gets older, offer to involve him/her in the IEP process. Samuel is almost 9 and we expect to have him attending some or all IEP meetings before long (though he would probably rather be hanging out with his friends). Most of what makes for a successful parent/school relationship is not about money or technology. It is about mutual respect, communication and a shared belief in the child.
And it never hurts when we bring cookies to the IEP meeting.
Wrapping up what has become Inclusion Week here at On Special Education, here's news on an advisory council, created by the Mayor of Nashville, that released a report (pdf) on the problems it sees with special education in the 75,000-student Metropolitan Nashville Public Schools. The committee's abridged recommendations:
*Inclusive practices should be adopted comprehensively across MNPS.
*Support of students receiving special education services must become a concern of leadership of the district, not the responsibility of just those in the special education department.
*Communication between educators, administrators, and families must improve for positive change to occur within MNPS.
*Professional development and training must be appropriate, sufficiently comprehensive, and accessible for all MNPS personnel for the successful conversion of MNPS to an inclusive practices model.
*All students must have access to the general curriculum.
*Effective reading instruction must be available to all MNPS students.
*Consistent disciplinary procedures that incorporate Positive Behavior Support (PBS) strategies should be adopted by MNPS.
*Transition services should be developed immediately to ensure that all high school students are prepared to fully participate in the community with the appropriate supports after exiting MNPS.
*Data collection and data-based decision making should be implemented across MNPS.
*Transportation to and from school should convert to an inclusive model, mirroring the efforts made in classrooms.
The panel's recommendations seem to go to the very foundation of what a good special education system should be. But the panel also noted that another task force came up with the same recommendations a decade ago, and nothing changed. The members wrote:
The message coming from our community – from students, from families, from educators, and from advocates – is strong and clear. We can no longer afford to be a district that does not provide the necessary supports and services for the success of ALL students. For too long, our students with disabilities have had too little and too late. And, with great resources in this city, we know we can do better.
The Nashville Tennessean newspaper weighed in on the report, as well as the Nashville City Paper in this article. Apparently, a state evaluation of special education services in the city deemed them "horrifying."
My somewhat-unrelated question, when I first heard about this task force: why would the mayor create an advisory council to examine educational practices in Nashville, as opposed to school leadership? Turns out that Mayor Karl Dean may be interested in taking a much more active role in the running of the school system. Does that mean these recommendations will actually be implemented? This will be interesting to watch.
At least, sometimes they are: in my last blog entry, I wrote about a poll that suggested only about a quarter of the public, including public school teachers, supported having children with emotional and behavioral disorders educated in the regular classroom.
But parents of children with disabilities in the 10,400-student Tuscaloosa, Ala., district fought a plan to close a school that educated only students with disabilities.
The Department of Education's office of civil rights got involved in the Tuscaloosa situation, because parents complained that by taking the children out of Oak Hill School and returning them to their neighborhood schools, the district was denying the children access to the specialized services they needed.
The civil rights office recently concluded that there was no evidence that students in neighborhood schools were failing to get appropriate services. But it sounds like parents ultimately got what they wanted, which was to have the special education school remain open.
In a news release issued on Nov. 7, 2007, the school system announced that Oak Hill would close and that at least 88 special-needs students would be transferred to their neighborhood schools because of federal guidelines. Superintendent of Education Joyce Levey said the school’s closing would put the city school system in compliance with the federal No Child Left Behind Act, which states that special education students should receive educational services with their non-disabled peers 80 percent of the time.After an outcry from parents that culminated in an emotional public meeting on Nov. 13, the school system reversed course and kept the school open. Parents and teachers argued that Oak Hill provided an environment for special-needs students that could not be duplicated elsewhere.
I'm not sure, but the 80 percent recommendation Levey refers to appears to come from the relatively new annual performance reports that states must file with the Department of Education. The department monitors and grades states on 34 special education "indicators," one of which is how many students are removed from regular class less than 21 percent of the day and how many students are removed from regular class more than 60 percent of the day. The goal is to have students placed in the "least restrictive environment" that meets their educational needs.
A list of the IDEA part B (school-aged kids) indicators is here (pdf); the Part C (infants and toddlers) indicators are here, also in pdf form.
Only 25 percent of public teachers believe that students with emotional and behavioral disabilities should be taught in regular classrooms along with other students, according to a poll released today by the Program on Education Policy and Governance at Harvard University. (Scroll down to the section titled "Mainstreaming the Disabled" to see the results.)
Public school teachers were statistically tied with the public at large; the poll said only 28 percent of the public believes that students with these disabilities should be mainstreamed.
My colleague, Linda Jacobson, has written an article about these poll results and what they may mean for the presidential election. In the meantime, I'm working on an article about new research into adolescents with behavioral disorders that is slated to run in Education Week's Aug. 27 issue.
This picture shows actor Mark Hamill congratulating Caitlin, the first-prize winner in her grade category at the Braille Challenge, along with second-place winner Michael Chang, a high school senior from California, and third-place winner Albano Berberi of Massachusetts, who will enroll in Wheaton College in the fall.
It occurred to me after posting the first part of my Q&A session with Caitlin that some readers may be curious how she has been composing her responses:
I guess it's kind of a multi-step process, but it's second nature to me now. If someone has written a long email that I want to read in Braille, or one that I want to respond to very extensively, I copy it onto a CompactFlash card and read it on my BrailleNote. I compose and edit much better if I can "see what I'm doing," so to speak. I love the PC, but I'm a Braille reader and writer at heart, and it shows. The BrailleNote is a notetaker with a refreshable Braille display, a Braille keyboard for input, and speech output. On the BrailleNote, I read, responded to and edited the questions in Braille, then had the BrailleNote translate it into text, and sent it back in an e-mail.
Usually, though, I respond to all e-mail on my PC. My PC has a screen reader called Window-Eyes which enables me to use the keyboard to navigate with speech reading aloud as I type. I also surf the web, instant message with my friends, and use LiveJournal and Facebook this way, so that I can keep in touch with my friends and the latest web trends.
The only changes I've made to Caitlin's responses is to compress them slightly and make some minor stylistic changes. Now, back to the questions:
You’ve said that when you started your sophomore year in high school, you started participating in your individualized education program meetings. What was that experience like?
I dreaded IEP meetings from the beginning. Sure, I knew that they were important and that they were about my future. But what kind of kid wants to sit with her parents and her teachers and even administrators and have her academic record, goals, successes and shortcomings analyzed? I know I sure didn't, especially since my friends often tell me that, when I'm embarrassed, my face resembles a tomato and I look like I'm on the verge of tears. Not exactly the kind of reputation I'd like to cultivate. But as I drew nearer and nearer to college, I sucked it up and attended, because I wanted to make my own decisions and play a part in shaping my future. The IEP meetings were always very informative and positive, but they were still a little daunting, even after I became accustomed to them.
What would you like teachers to keep in mind if they have students with disabilities in their classes? What can they do to be more sensitive?
My ground rules: (1) Don't treat her any differently than any other student. If you're in the habit of reading papers out loud, don't hesitate to read hers just because she has a disability and you don't want to draw "even more attention to her." Similarly, if you're in the habit of criticizing everyone's work, criticize hers just like you would anyone else's. She'll feel worse if you pick on everyone's but hers, and her friends will think that her disability excludes her from receiving negative feedback. Remember, she's just like any other student.
(2) Be organized. Talk to your students and find out what they need from you. Do your best to be there for them in any way they need without laying it on too thickly. Being able to talk to your student and learn his needs is the key.
(3) Be accommodating, but don't baby her along. If you were late handing an assignment in to be prepared for her, give her extra time to complete it. But if she pulls the "I didn't have time to do it...I was busy" stunt, then impose the same treatment that you would for any of your other charges. No special privileges just because she has a disability; after all, how will she learn if everyone babies her along?
(4) Let him make his own decisions. Don't force him to sit with the table full of smart kids instead of his friends, just because you feel that the smart kids will pick up his slack. Don't hang around him when your class goes on a field trip just because you're worried that he'll need your guidance. Certainly offer your assistance, but don't be offended if he declines. Most kids will ask for help if and when they need it, and when you're a teen, it's not cool for the teacher to be making a fuss over you while you're trying to socialize with your friends.
(5) Communicate! It's great when teachers check in now and then, just to make sure the student has everything she needs. Of course, doing this after class or in an email is always preferable. Don't interrupt lectures to ask if she wants something clarified. Ask her later, or wait for her to come to you with questions.
(6) Be helpful! Being descriptive, clear and precise will assist all your students, not just those with disabilities. Asking if anyone has questions, describing an image or presentation in words as well as showing graphs or pictures, and reminding the class as a whole that the homework is listed on the board will benefit all of your students. Remember, there are many different kinds of learners, and expressing ideas in multiple ways is often very helpful.
I'd like to ask the same question about IEP meetings. You mentioned that sometimes they could be a little nerve-wracking! Is there a way that school administrators can make them better? Because a lot of students don't even choose to participate.
I know that when I was young, I just thought that IEP meetings consisted of everybody sitting down and droning on and on about what I was bad at and needed to work on. Students need to be told that their IEP meetings are helpful in planning their future. The meeting is a tool that will enable them to be successful students and people later in life, and their input is valued and essential. I always made my parents promise not to embarrass me (they didn't always listen, though,) and I found it helpful to talk separately with my [teacher for the visually impaired] afterward to evaluate how the meeting had gone. Let's face it: I can't always be completely honest with tons of people in one room, especially when I'm still reeling from being the center of so much attention. Not being a person who reacts well to criticism, I always found the meetings to be pretty emotionally draining. Remember that a disabled student's friends rarely have IEP meetings, so he probably won't have anyone with whom he can commiserate.
Keeping the meeting informal, positive and upbeat is always a plus. Being super-serious and not cracking a joke will just make her more nervous. I also think that, though assessing grades and prior events is important, the meetings should be focused more on improvement and the future than on negative issues and the past.
You mentioned that you were interested in going into education yourself. What would you like to teach, and what draws you to that profession?
I have always loved reading and writing. For this reason, I will be attending the University of California at Santa Cruz, where I will be majoring in English literature with an emphasis in creative writing. I hope to be a middle school English teacher someday. I love teenagers, and for that reason, I have often thought of becoming a therapist for young people...but teaching is really my calling. The idea of influencing young people, introducing them to literature and getting to know them through their writing has always excited me. I'd also love to be an author, but, of course, that's a big dream. However, I've already written two novels (young adult fiction), and I'm hard at work on my third. I plan to begin sending my first book, which I've been editing for almost a year, to publishers soon. Cross your fingers for me!
I thank Caitlin so much for these thoughtful responses. I hope to include more direct interviews with students in my blog over the coming year.
I met a number of wonderful students when I visited Los Angeles for my recent story on Braille literacy, including Caitlin Hernandez, an 18-year-old high school graduate from Danville, Calif.
Caitlin is a three-time winner of the Braille Challenge, which tests students' spelling, reading comprehension, transcription speed and accuracy, and proofreading skills. She plans to attend the University of California at Santa Cruz in the fall, and is interested in being an English teacher.
She has been generous enough to offer some great thoughts on what it's like to be a student with a disability in a mainstreamed environment. She has been blind since birth, with a rare condition called Leber's congenital amaurosis. It appears in about 3 out of every 100,000 births.
Tell us a little bit about yourself. Have you attended public school your whole life?
I was born on April 5, 1990 in Walnut Creek, Calif. My mom, Debbie, who works as a Braille interpreter for a blind middle school student, and my dad, Mark, who is a San Francisco police officer, raised my sister, Courtney, who is four years my senior, and myself in Martinez, California until 1994. Then we moved to Danville, where we stayed.
From age 5, I was fully mainstreamed in our district. "Blending in" was never an issue. I loved my teachers, my schoolwork, my friends, and, of course, the playground. Elementary school was where I began to exercise my three main loves in life: reading, writing and singing. By the time I finished second grade, I had completely mastered the Braille code. I had begun learning it at age three. Braille literary code supposedly came to me easily, but Nemeth, or the math Braille code, was and is another story. I've always been an English lover, and math was a struggle during elementary school and onward. Still, as I moved through school, my parents, regular education teachers, special education teachers, TVIs (teachers of the visually impaired), and O&M (orientation and mobility) instructors all worked together to enhance my education.
Have you always been fully included in the classroom? How did your school district handle your Braille instruction? Was there a teacher in your school, or did a teacher visit you a certain number of hours or days a week? How did this change from elementary school to middle school to high school?
I always saw myself as "just another kid" in the classroom, and I mean that in an extremely positive way. I didn't like a big fuss made about the fact that I was different -- that I had Braille books and a clunky Braille writer and walked around with a white cane (when I was a good kid and remembered to use it instead of just tearing off with my friends) -- and I think that everyone knew and respected that. My blindness rarely caused me to feel singled out or even "different" from the other students. In elementary school, regular ed classroom teachers usually had me present a little schtick at the beginning of the year: "This is my Brailler...this is my enormous version of our history book, which is fat for you and is twenty-six volumes for me...this is my cane...don't ask me to guess who you are, because it kind of bugs me." But as I moved into middle school, such explanations became more common knowledge, and I integrated and mingled with my sighted peers with fewer questions on their part.
The San Ramon Valley Unified School District worked in tandem with the county to send me itinerant Braille teachers. As I grew older, became more independent and learned to become my own advocate, the assistance from TVI-S and O&M instructors lessened. In kindergarten, I had an aide every day at almost any given time. By fifth grade, I had an aide for about half the day. By eighth grade, I only had help in math, science and my resource period, which was basically a study hall. And by my senior year, the aide and I spent most of our allotted four hours a week talking about the books we were reading and our weekend plans.
How did your teachers handle having a blind student in their classroom? What were some of your best and worst experiences with this?
I am lucky in that I have had very few negative experiences in the mainstream classroom. I never minded being the only blind child at my elementary school, probably because I never really thought about it. I never felt isolated from my classmates. After all, we all liked the same things: having sleep-overs, going roller skating, eating ice cream, hanging out at the park, reading, watching Arthur and Rugrats and Bill Nye on TV, playing Go Fish and Trouble and Monopoly...the list goes on.
In high school, though, things sometimes got trickier. Not all high school teachers are aware of or prepared for the planning that goes along with educating a blind student. Math teachers, in particular, were fantastic about letting me have extra time on tests because of my difficulty with the subject, and science teachers, too, were incredibly accommodating and clever about adapting activities in a way in which I would understand and benefit. As for bad experiences, they certainly did exist. My favorite teachers were those that gave me all my work on time, didn't give me any "special treatment" and, quite frankly, let me do my thing without interfering. But sometimes there can be teachers who see a special needs student as an opportunity to educate the class. "If Caitlin can do this," they might say, "then you, who can see, should certainly be able to." I don't see myself as a better or worse student because of my being blind, so, of course, I resented being held up and singled out in this way.
Where possible, I always like to take my exams in class with my classmates, so that they know that, even though I get double-time for some of them, I'm not getting outside help. Some teachers don't like me taking tests with their students, though, because they feel that my typing and Braille reading are distracting to the other students. This was often cause for some embarrassment on my part, not to mention questions from my classmates: "Why is Caitlin leaving again? Is someone helping her with the test?" And then, of course, if I got a good grade: "It's because she leaves the room...she couldn't really have gotten an A on her own." If there's one thing that I don't like, it's people thinking that I'm not as good as my sighted peers, or that I need more help than they do just because I read and learn in a slightly different way.
Tomorrow: Caitlin talks about participating in her individualized education program meetings, and gives tips for teachers who have a student with a disability in their classroom.
It's been a few years since I've written about special education in the District of Columbia, but every time I do so, I'm astounded at just how dysfunctional that system is. While parents in other school systems may be fighting over getting appropriate services for their child, in D.C., the fight often begins with the most basic need: getting a child properly assessed.
Even with an assessment and a diagnosed need for special education, there's no guarantee a child will actually get the services called for in an individualized education program. And if the services aren't provided for, there's no guarantee that compensatory services will be forthcoming, either. With such deep-rooted problems, it's not a surprise that the school system spends about 10 percent of its budget for tuition to private schools for students with disabilities.
However, school officials and, intriguingly, lawyers who have sued the district for its poor performance in special education, are teaming up now to try to address some of these long-standing problems. I wrote about some of the efforts that are under way.
(This is a good time to note that if you'd like to read the full article but are being stopped because you're not a subscriber, Education Week is offering a free two-week trial that gives you full access to the site.)
Both the Internet and 20-20 hindsight allow me to make this clarification to something the article may not have made crystal-clear: the "alternative dispute resolution" I referred to in the article has nothing to do with resolving disputes between parents and the school system. It's a term for a legal agreement reached between the school system and lawyers who represented parents in a class action against the school system. The ADR outlines several things the district must do to improve its special education programs.
No one I interviewed is suggesting that this reform process will be easy. But the D.C. public school system and its new leader, Chancellor Michelle Rhee, probably have as much freedom and energy to address this problem as they ever will have, at least while they still have popular Mayor Adrian Fenty to shield them. If I were a parent, I know I'd feel like I have heard this all before. That's the constituency that the school system must win over to consider this process a success.
Late last year I wrote an article on "universal design for learning," an educational philosophy that promotes using technology to supplement teaching materials and make them accessible to all types of students. UDL had found support among several disability advocacy organizations, who wanted the concept included in the reauthorization of the federal No Child Left Behind law.
Ricki Sabia, an advocate with the National Down Syndrome Society, just sent me a link that shows an example of universally designed texts created by the Center for Applied Special Technology in Wakefield, Mass., which has spearheaded the UDL movement.
This is really quite cool. As Ricki noted, the site offers text-to-speech technology, pop-up definitions of words, comprehension questions at four levels of difficulty, links to encyclopedia entries and translations between English and Spanish. It's a great example of the promise that UDL offers to make educational materials broadly useful. And it's fun, too -- I'm enjoying going through "The Tell-Tale Heart," one of my favorite spooky stories from middle school, and clicking on all the extra resources included as part of the text.
I have to admit that the connection to special education is pretty tenuous, but I was transfixed by a story on NPR Wednesday about two families coping with transgendered young sons. One family decided to let their child live as a girl while another family is trying to make their son feel more comfortable in his biological gender, including taking away his "girlish" toys. Now, the child's mother says, her son has some friends who are boys and is no longer saying that he's a girl...but she senses that he's leading a double life. At school he plays with girls; at home, he knows that behavior is not acceptable. It's a compelling tale.
(The second part of the series, about a family that is considering hormone therapy to delay puberty for their transgendered son, is available here.)
Though the school/education angle was only a small part of the NPR stories, a quick Google search shows that this is hardly the first time that schools have had to make accommodations for transgendered youth. This article, which ran Saturday in the Philadelphia Inquirer, talks about the controversy that erupted when a 9-year-old third grader planned to transition into life as a girl. The school held an assembly for students to explain the situation. That didn't go over well with some parents.
"I did not think that the letter needed to go out," said Valerie Huff, whose daughter is a friend of the transgender student. "The kids don't make any big deal about it at all."Mary Beth Lauer, district director of community relations, said there were no easy answers for school officials.
"This is something that was going to come out," Lauer said. "Isn't it better to be proactive, and let people know what is happening and how we're dealing with it?"
Does anyone have personal stories about schools and transgendered youth?
Readers who will be in New York May 9-11 should check out the Sprout Film Festival, a three day showing of films by and about people with disabilities.
The first day features "Including Samuel," a movie I didn't get a chance to see when it was shown in the D.C. area., unfortunately. The documentary, filmed by photojournalist Dan Habib, shows a family's efforts to involve their son Samuel, who has cerebral palsy, in every part of educational and social life. The last day of the festival will include a showing of "Autism: The Musical," which was recently broadcast on HBO.
Several other short films and documentaries look fascinating, like a 1970 documentary, "A Time for Georgia," about a girl with autism—I'd love to know what we thought of the disorder at that time, compared to now. "Fathers' Voices" is a short film on how men are affected by children with disabilities.
If anyone happens to catch any of these showings, feel free to leave a comment.
I scoured the Internet to find other blog posts on the Council for Exceptional Children convention, which wrapped up last week.
Christine Southard's Blogspot delved into assistive technology and co-teaching.
Daniel McNulty, blogging on behalf of an assistive technology project in Indiana, talked about his own presentation on using iPods in the classroom.
Dorophoria found some sessions she liked, but complained that the titles of some presentations didn't match the actual content. Pat at Successful Teaching offers to share some of her notes on multicultural education of students with different learning needs, and reveals her sweet crush on "The Fonz"—actor Henry Winkler, who has dyslexia, was the keynote speaker this year.
Kate at Teaching Learners with Multiple Special Needs found a few sessions that interested her, but struggled to find relevance in the conference to the children she teaches, who have severe and profound disabilities.
I understand those concerns. This is the third CEC convention I've attended, and I always find it a rich source of story ideas. However, I'm not attending with a teacher's mindset. I understand how easy it would be to be overwhelmed if I went there looking for specific guidance on one small area of the special education world. Six thousand attendees, hundreds of sessions ... it's a lot.
I'm also surprised that the CEC itself didn't ask a squadron of attendees to produce a blog. The organization already has a blog; it would have been a great resource for the many teachers who can't afford to spend the time or the money to attend the event in person. Maybe next year?
If there are other blogs that I missed, or if you just want to share your own impressions of the conference, please add a note or link in the comments section.
Part of life is fun and games, but too few children with disabilities are getting that in the classroom.
Two professors presented compelling—and sad—research during their Friday afternoon session at the CEC convention showing that children with disabilities have only the barest of interactions with their typically developing peers in many classrooms, even when they are in "inclusion" settings. The few interactions they do have are negative, or completely task-oriented. The trend persists even in elective classes, where students with disabilities are often placed on the assumption that non-academic classes promote more personal interaction.
The only way to break down barriers is if teachers take an active role in facilitating connections among students, both of the presenters said.
Tina Stanton-Chapman of the University of Virginia talked about work that she has done with preschool students, where they act out stories that allow children with disabilities an opportunity to learn such skills as taking turns, listening, and using names to get the attention of friends. After those interactions, the children tend to play together more.
Erik W. Carter, at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, talked about a “peer buddy” program that a district has started between students with severe disabilities and a few of their typically developing peers. Having peer buddies leads to far more interaction among students than using a full-time paraprofessional, he said. Carter is the co-author of a book on this program, which you can read about here.
