Inclusion is Dead

Long Live Inclusion

Peter Imray, Andrew Colley

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9781138241596
• eBook ISBN: 9781315280035
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Education General

Inclusion is Dead is a provocative polemic against the widely held notion that inclusion for all children and young people with SEN is both possible and desirable. For those with severe learning difficulties (SLD) and profound and multiple learning difficulties (PMLD), the authors argue, it is neither.

Imray and Colley assert that the dominance of inclusion has meant that there has been no serious attempt to look at the educational difficulties faced by learners with PMLD and SLD. As a vision of egalitarianism and equality for all, they say, inclusion is dead.

The authors controversially believe that unless education changes, it will remain as a disabling institution that does the exact opposite of its intention. The book presents the argument that theorists of inclusion have failed to provide practical solutions on how inclusion can be achieved when SLD and PMLD learners are involved, as well as discussing the drawbacks of the 'inclusion for all argument'.

With up-to-date references throughout, Inclusion is Dead will be an insightful read for teachers and SENCO trainers, as well as postgraduates and undergraduates studying courses on politics, philosophy and society.

1  Setting the scene

The fundamental premise of this book is that educational inclusion, despite a constantly changing and liquid definition, has not been achieved in any country under any educational system despite some 30 years of trying. It was no doubt a valiant and laudable attempt to ensure justice and equity but its failure must now be addressed. Inclusion has become a recurring trope of academic writing on education; it is trotted out as an eternal and unarguable truth, but it is neither. It doesn’t work, and it never has worked. Inclusion is dead.

We contend that for two small but significant groups of learners with severe learning difficulties (SLD) and profound and multiple learning difficulties (PMLD) who combined make up around 50,000 of the school population in England alone (Pinney, 2017),¹ educational inclusion, when defined as working in the same school and/or in the same classroom and/or working on the same curriculum, not only hasn’t worked, it is also positively harmful since it directly reduces the opportunity for learners to learn and wastes extraordinarily precious and expensive learning time. There are, in addition, very strong arguments for assuming that these 50,000 who make inclusion for all as a workable concept impossible are only the tip of the iceberg. It may be that education is not working for a considerably higher percentage of the United Kingdom’s school population, that this can be directly laid at the door of the dominant inclusive pedagogy and that this is also likely to be the case in most Western First World economies.

One of the reasons for the systemic educational failure of learners with SLD and PMLD in inclusive educational models is because either insufficient, or more commonly, no thought has been given to pedagogical considerations, which involves asking why we might be educating those with SLD and PMLD in the first place.

The emphasis on education as the primary means of attaining a socially inclusive society by insisting pupils learn the same things in the same classroom is mistaken. Rather, education needs to be seen as a means of fostering pupils’ opportunities to maximise their potential to do the very best they can do and to be the very best they can be, irrespective of their individual level of disability. In other words we strongly advocate adopting a Capabilities Approach (Sen, 1992, 1999, 2005; Nussbaum, 2004, 2006, 2011).

The authors fully accept that their views are principled and political. They recognise that there is very little research into the learning of those with SLD and PMLD which might uphold their views, but that is because there is very little research into the learning of those with SLD and PMLD to uphold any views about anything. The authors have therefore (with a combined 50 years of experience in the classroom) taken their experience of practice first and worked outwards from there. Of primary interest to the authors is firstly what works and what doesn’t work and secondly why it works and why it doesn’t work. We accept the criticisms of Bratlinger (1997) that, as with previous questioners of inclusion as a satisfactory educational doctrine, we cannot lay claim to objectivity and neutrality; it is our opinion, just as proponents of inclusion are expressing their opinion.

We trust, however, that the extensive and detailed arguments put forward in this book will give all at least pause for thought, especially since we adopt the position that we have expertise in the field of SLD and PMLD and our opinion, as experts, carries weight. When looking at inclusive pedagogy, Davis and Florian (2004) admired the abilities of a number of teachers who were able to span a considerable breadth of expertise and knowledge and wondered if we could all learn from them:

Expert teachers who respond to the diversity of learners’ needs found in every classroom, but especially in classrooms with a high proportion of children with special educational needs, have been found to embed a responsiveness to individual need within the context of whole class teaching. What is not well understood is how they do this.

(Davis and Florian, 2004, 36)

We think the clue lies in the wording – they are ‘expert’ teachers. Many commentators have written on the imperfect state of inclusion, yet whichever country and educational system is being discussed, a common theme is the generally unspoken but sometimes quite specific criticism of teachers for not being able to do what some, the ‘expert teachers’, can clearly do (for example in the United Kingdom: Hart and Drummond, 2014; Florian and Black-Hawkins, 2011; in the United States: Jackson, 2014; Ryndack et al., 2013; in Australia: Slee, 2010; Conway, 2012).

Knowing the limits of one’s knowledge and skill and being given the responsibility for refusing clients whose problems don’t match one’s training and skills are rather basic professional and moral responsibilities, it seems to me. Those who do not want teachers to decline to teach a child for whom they are not prepared believe one of two erroneous things…. (a) teachers shouldn’t be professionals in any true sense or (b) students don’t actually differ much in what’s required to teach them. Teaching is teaching, they seem to believe, and if you can teach one student you can teach any student. I find that kind of denial maddening.

(Kauffman, 2002, 250)

We argue that the philosophy and practice of teaching those on the SLD and PMLD spectrums is not just a matter of differentiation, it is fundamentally different. This leads to the inevitable conclusion that we ought to be teaching them differently and, indeed, teaching them different things. It is neither possible nor desirable to do this in an inclusive classroom.

One of the major reasons for the difference relates to the ‘why’ of education and an acceptance of education as a means to an end rather than as an end in itself. Learning may be an end, but education is a means to an end. Those with SLD and PMLD have the right to be equal members of society, to be socially included as equal citizens, to belong, to be part of rather than apart from society. When, however, the goals of education have nothing to do with what is meaningful to people, we further compound both their failure and society’s failure. People with learning disabilities have the right to a voice which is their voice, not ours. We have to help them find that voice.

We do, however, have the opportunity to rectify these wrongs, even though there are no quick-fix solutions. We therefore call for the adoption of a Capabilities Approach within and beyond education which can at least set us on the right path to allow social inclusion to arise from the wreckage of educational inclusion, so that we may declare inclusion is dead: long live inclusion.

Note

1Because both writers are British, it is natural that the essence of our arguments will come from a UK perspective. We have tried, however, to refer to the North American, Australian, and Italian experiences to act as broader examples as much as we are able and we believe that the principle arguments relating to the unworkability of inclusion as an educational concept apply equally across all First World economies.

2 What is educational inclusion?

It is widely accepted (for example, Ainscow, 2006; Garrick Duhaney, 2012; Anderson and Boyle, 2015) that the Salamanca Statement of 1994 acted as a major catalyst in the drive for inclusive education systems across the world. Inclusive institutions are, it stated,

the most effective means of combating discriminatory attitudes, creating welcoming communities, building an inclusive society and achieving education for all; moreover, they provide an effective education to the majority of children and improve the efficiency and ultimately the cost-effectiveness of the entire education system.

(UNESCO, 1994, 10)

In the United Kingdom, this more or less coincided with the election of the first Labour government for 18 years in 1997, whose education policy included a drive towards full inclusion and a decrease in separate, special school provision, though succeeding governments (including succeeding Labour governments) have drawn back from this commitment (Norwich, 2012). In the United States, numerous acts of legislation began with the Individuals and Disabilities Act (IDEA) of 1975, which promised the concept of ‘least restrictive environment’ where students with disabilities would be educated in the setting least removed from the general education classroom (Mastropieri and Scruggs, 2010). This legislation has been continually updated by, for example, the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001, enabling the claim that ‘the history of education in the United States has demonstrated a continuing development towards greater equality and inclusivity’ (Michaud and Scruggs, 2012, 23). Italy, notably, have claimed a fully inclusive education system since the 1970s and Australia have recently (from 2009 onward) moved towards a National Curriculum and national testing and assessment arrangements which have brought all schools’ pupils under a common framework.

Nonetheless, despite several decades spent working towards a fully inclusive education system in all four of these countries (and we would suggest that the difficulties experienced are largely symptomatic of many other country’s journeys), the inclusion project is still only ‘ongoing’ (Slee, 2012).

One of the major problems has been in defining exactly what inclusion is, or indeed might be, but whatever it is, there seems little doubt that it is a political and philosophical stance rather than a purely educational one (Norwich and Lewis, 2005). Norwich (2012) takes up an argument initially propounded by Cigman (2007) in seeing political differences along a continuum which covers the range of views from universal inclusion to moderate (or as Norwich terms it) ‘optimal’ inclusion.

In education [inclusion] is the possibility of fundamental transformation of schools to respond to all differences and that categories of difference (such as special educational needs or disability) can be abandoned, as they are socially constructed and therefore not ‘real’. In this analysis ‘universalists’ tend to hold on to the promise of possibility, while ‘moderates’ do not.

(Norwich, 2012, 63)

It is interesting to note the language used here, where ‘optimal’ and ‘moderate’ – both good, positive words – are used to define an inclusion model that does not insist upon all children in the same class in the same school. Lauchlan and Greig (2015) carry on the premise by asking (but not answering) the question of whether inclusionists might now consider it acceptable for special schools to be part of an inclusion agenda rather than anathema to it, as Cigman’s universalists still contend. Lauchlan and Greig look at the evidence from the perspective of pupils, teachers, and parents in relation to both the social and educational benefits, but come to no firm conclusion, since one study for not recognising special schools as having a role to play is generally counterbalanced by another that says the opposite. On the whole, Lauchlan and Geig’s literature review confirms other findings (Topping, 2012; Norwich, 2012 for example) that the jury is still out and more research is needed. Mary Warnock, herself the great driving force towards an integrated model in the United Kingdom in the 1970s (Warnock, 1975), is now of the view that ‘all children under one roof’ is neither feasible nor desirable, and that we should be much more concerned with including all children in the ‘common goal of education’, in whatever educational setting suits them best (Warnock, 2005).

If the notion of including all children in terms of being in the same class, in the same school, being taught the same curriculum as all other children (Katz et al., 2012; Boyle and Topping, 2012) might be considered to be at one end of Cigman’s (2007) spectrum of inclusion, it would seem that the notion of ‘inclusive special education’ Hornby (2015) could well be at the other end. Hornby takes up Warnock’s call for a much wider view of inclusion and answers many of the criticisms of Warnock by Brahm Norwich, especially in relation to issues which Norwich considered to be valid in principle but not fully thought through (Norwich, 2010). For Hornby (2015) it is clear that the universalist view is no longer relevant, noting a number of studies to support this line (for example, Evans and Lunt, 2002; Thomas and Loxley, 2007; Hansen, 2012; Kauffman and Badar, 2014a). For Hornby, such studies indicate that it is

now widely recognised that the policy of ‘full inclusion’, with its vision of all children being educated in mainstream classrooms for all or most of their time at school is impossible to achieve in practice.

(Hornby, 2015; 236)

Drawing heavily on the work of Kauffman and Badar (2014a, 2014b), Hornby identifies a number of ‘confusions’ regarding the drive for inclusive education which have seriously affected its direction and pace of travel, and have resulted in numerous wrong turns. As a result, Hornby argues, a new theory is needed to drive inclusion in a more realistic direction.

The definition of inclusive special education encompasses a synthesis of the philosophies and practices of both inclusive education and special education. It involves educating children with SEND in the most inclusive settings in which their special educational needs can be met effectively, using the most effective instructional strategies, with the overarching goal of facilitating the highest level of inclusion in society post-school for all young people with SEND.

(Hornby, 2015, 239, original emphasis)

Hornby’s (2015, 248) pragmatic take on a typical inclusion continuum includes:

• mainstream class with differentiation of work by the class teacher;
• mainstream class with guidance for the teacher provided by a specialist teacher;
• mainstream class with support for the pupil from a teaching assistant;
• mainstream class with some time spent in a resource room;
• special class within a mainstream school;
• special class that is part of a special school but is attached to a mainstream school;
• special school which is on the same campus as a mainstream school;
• special school on a separate campus;
• residential special school on its own campus.

On the whole we welcome this approach, note that it can be fitted into America’s No Child Left Behind Act of 2001 and the Individuals With Disabilities Education Improvement Act (IDEA) of 2004 with its ‘least restrictive environment’ philosophy, and find difficulty in arguing with any of it. However, the above ‘typical inclusion continuum’ is pretty much reflective of the English special educational needs continuum as it stands today, and not even the dovest of inclusion doves would consider England to have the perfect educational inclusive system, or indeed even an inclusive educational system. Hornby’s take on proceedings may be interesting, but it is questionable whether it constitutes inclusion.

Models of disability: the medical and social models

It is worth going back to basics with this discussion if only briefly, and the authors must at this point beg the readers’ indulgence as the ground is prepared for the arguments to come. Such preparation centres on our insistence that the natures of severe learning difficulties and profound and multiple learning difficulties are academically and therefore educationally defining. That is, that the conditions of SLD and PMLD automatically limit what the child, young person, or adult can learn and how they might learn it. This has major implications for what we teach, how we teach, and, indeed, where we teach it.

For seasoned inclusionists such a statement more than probably sounds the alarm bell of yet another ringing of the medical model, or deficit model, or psycho-medical model as Hodkinson (2016) terms it, or the individual model (Oliver, 1996), or, even more emotively, the ‘individual tragedy’ model (Slee, 2012). What we will term throughout (for brevity’s sake) as the medical model can be seen to be the position taken where special educational needs are deemed to arise from the individual’s physiological, neurological, and/or psychological deficits (Skidmore, 1996). Such deficits are measured against developmental or functional norms in areas such as cognition, motor ski...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• 1 Setting the scene
• 2 What is educational inclusion?
• 3 Current perspectives and practice
• 4 The defining learning characteristics of PMLD and SLD
• 5 The pedagogical imperative
• 6 The curriculum imperative
• 7 The capabilities imperative
• 8 The social imperative
• 9 Conclusion: and a way forward?
• References
• Author index
• Subject index