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REVOLUTIONARY COMMON SENSE LIBRARY
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INCLUSIVE EDUCATION:
A Principal's Perspective
Revolutionary Common Sense by Kathie Snow
www.disabilityisnatural.com
For more than thirty years, Mike Galvin has been an innovative, caring, and thoughtful educator. For 12 years, he was principal of Columbine, an inclusive elementary school in Woodland Park, Colorado. This is the same school my two children, Emily and Benjamin, attended. Benjamin has cerebral palsy, and he—like other children with disability labels—were included in regular classrooms and extracurricular activities. (Note: This is not Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, site of the school shooting tragedy.)
In addition to being wonderfully inclusive, Columbine was also an award-winning
school under Mike’s leadership. It won an inclusive education award from
Exceptional
Parent magazine for the 1992-93 school year. In 2000, Columbine
was selected as one of ten “National Schools of Character” by the
Character Education Partnership (CEP). The CEP booklet describing the ten award
winners details that Columbine’s “impetus for expanding its character
education initiative was not to reduce discipline incidents—it was to
care better for students receiving special education . . . Inclusion, in its
broadest sense, has become a core part of the school’s character education.”
Mike retired from Columbine after the 2000-2001 school year, and the new
principal exclaimed, “This isn’t just an inclusive school—this is beyond
inclusion!” Mike’s “retirement” keeps him busy: he’s
now a Senior Consultant at McREL (Mid-continent Research for Education and
Learning) in Aurora, Colorado. McREL is one of eleven federally-funded regional
education research centers. Mike specializes in school improvement: helping
school administrators develop high-performing learning communities. McREL’s
region includes Colorado, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas,
Missouri, and Wyoming. McREL and the other research centers provide technical
assistance to schools through grant projects and on a fee-for-service basis.
Informal assistance is also provided. During this interview, Mike is speaking
about his experience as a public school educator, not as a representative
of McREL.
How do you define an
inclusive school?
An inclusive school is one in which educators create a natural school environment
for all children. Services for kids with disabilities are as transparent as
possible. The help provided to any child is based on what he or she needs,
and it’s provided in the natural environment. You take a child where
he is and give him what he needs in the most natural and informal ways possible.
An inclusive school provides all kids with whatever they need to master the
regular ed curriculum, which may include curriculum modifications, supports,
assistive technology, or other assistance. And in my opinion, you don’t
call a student an “inclusion student” or have “inclusion
classrooms.”
What about “special ed/resource rooms”—those
classrooms only for students with disabilities?
I’ve heard some people say “special ed is not a place” and
that’s true. At Columbine, we saw no reason to segregate students with
disabilities in a special classroom! A more natural way of providing services
to all children is in the regular classroom. Now, there may be particular places
in a school—like a reading lab, for example—where children with
and without disabilities receive specialized help. Inclusion doesn’t
mean that every single thing happens in the classroom. Overall, however, the
natural organization of a school is groupings of similar/same-age students,
and that’s true for kids with and without IEPs (Individualized Education
Programs).
Tell me more about the “age-appropriate” issue.
It’s really critical in a lot of ways. We need to look carefully at the
research on retention. There’s not much evidence to support its use,
and there’s a lot to suggest it’s actively harmful. Research [Holmes
and Matthews, 1984; Meisels and Liaw, 1993] demonstrated that (1) retention
has a negative impact on “social adjustment, behavior, self-competence,
and attitudes toward school” and (2) retention does not remediate academic
difficulties. Children who are retained are at greater risk for dropping out
of school. A study by Grissom and Shepard [1989] showed that children who have
been retained just one year are five times less likely to graduate!
This increases to almost 100 percent if a child has been retained two or more times. In one study [Yamamoto, 1980], students were asked to describe the greatest stresses they face. Being retained was in the top three; the other two were “going blind” or “losing a parent.” The fear of retention puts extreme pressure on children. Some people recognize how emotionally harmful retention can be to older kids, but they don’t think it’s a big deal to hold kids back in kindergarten. Well, we may not see an immediate impact when retention is done early, but the negative outcomes may show up later.
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I believe kids need to be with similar-age peers for social needs. At Columbine, we were very concerned about the relationships kids have with others. First, being able to develop friendships and acquiring other social skills is important for every child. These are difficult to learn if you’re not with other kids your same age. Second, kids often learn as much from peers academically as they do from their teachers! Educators can learn to adapt the curriculum to the learning needs of a child. It may be more convenient for a school or a teacher to maintain the same curriculum for all kids and insist that a child must fit into the curriculum. But adapting the curriculum, when necessary, is in the best interest of the child. We didn’t hold kids back at Columbine. There were times we knew a child wasn’t at “grade-level,” but moving him up with his peers was the right thing to do, and that’s what we did. Then we adapted the curriculum and modified instructional strategies to meet his needs.
What does it take to create an inclusive school?
You really need an ethic or a core belief that relationships are at the
heart of learning and what a school is all about. That’s a necessary first
step. The relationship between the principal and teachers and the relationships
among teachers are models for the way students relate to each other.
We created an atmosphere which we called “pervasive caring.” We
believed it was very important to care about how kids feel and how they fit
in with their peer groups. Under this operating procedure, the first priority
is supporting kids’ emotional needs. The way you provide academics and
deal with the technicalities of following the law are influenced by a core
belief of caring. Inclusion is the result. It’s really about focusing
on what it means to be a good human being. As adults, we try to do this within
our families; as educators, we can do this in our professional lives at school,
too.
Our mission was to help children maximize their own learning within
this pervasive atmosphere of caring. Under these circumstances, it’s hard not to have
an inclusive school!
Why is inclusion in public schools important?
Because the potential of every person needs to be recognized! And
this is what happens in an inclusive school. Each and every student
is encouraged and allowed to contribute and be part of something;
no one is discounted or negated as a human being. Inclusion helps
all students make the most of themselves.
When I was growing up, kids with disabilities were warehoused in one
of those “special” rooms.
I even remember where it was: in the basement next to the furnace room! The
way I see it, schools can be the first place that limits a person’s potential.
In our society, we have put so many limitations on people in terms of gender,
ethnicity, disability, or some other characteristic. Society has set up these
barriers, and thankfully, many have fallen by the wayside. With inclusive schools,
limitations based on disability can fall by the wayside, too. Inclusive education
is one way to eliminate the societal limitations imposed on people’s
potential. What’s worse than putting limits on a child’s potential?
We just can’t do this anymore!
Inclusive schools give us a new and different—and positive—way
of looking at people. Educators are in this profession because they want to
help children learn, but we need to carefully consider how our traditional
special ed system may limit the potential of kids with disabilities.
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School is where we open children’s minds, bodies, and spirits to their
potential in life. At Columbine, the efforts to ensure all kids learned in
an inclusive environment were driven by the hope that when children with disabilities
left the educational system, they would have the same opportunities as kids
without disabilities: employment, emotionally healthy adult relationships,
successful families, self-fulfillment, the ability to accept personal responsibility,
and being contributing citizens.
How did you get interested in inclusion?
I was profoundly influenced and disturbed by the research
about what happens when children with disabilities leave
the traditional special ed system. The special ed system
didn’t seem to do very much to encourage self-reliance
and independence; in fact, it seemed to discourage the development of these
important traits! For example, developing an understanding of yourself—building
on the strengths you have and understanding your limitations—is an important
piece of any person’s whole development. The traditional special ed system
doesn’t focus on strengths. I remember hearing research about people
with disabilities who are still living at home at the age of 24, with no prospects
for living on their own, having jobs, or doing any other “real-life” adult
things, even though they went through many years and many programs designed
to educate them. These programs seem to actually encourage dependence, instead
of promoting interdependence!
How did Columbine become an inclusive school?
What got us started was a discussion of how classroom
teachers could more meaningfully collaborate with specialists.
For example, how could a third grade teacher have meaningful
and effective relationships with a variety of professionals—therapists,
teacher assistants, and others—who come into her classroom to support
students with diverse needs? As a teacher, myself, I always had a problem with
people pulling kids out of my class all day. I didn’t know how to catch
kids up with what they had missed when they were pulled out for therapy or
other specialized assistance. This was very frustrating for me, as a teacher,
and in my opinion, it was harmful to the children.
When I first became a principal, I once spent an entire
day in a first grade classroom. I watched carefully when
kids returned from their pull-out programs. They had missed
learning opportunities and instructions from the teacher,
and their classmates had moved on to other things. The
kids who had been pulled out were just lost. I thought, “What’s the point? Why not have
the pull-out teacher come into the classroom?” Pull-out just didn’t
make any sense. Here we were pulling kids out to give them additional help,
but they were actually falling further behind! Our collective experiences led
us to look at alternatives to the pull-out method.
What did it take to actually implement an inclusive
model of education?
One of our first steps was to end special ed pull-out and make
sure all students with disabilities were served in the regular
ed classroom. It seemed to work okay for the students and the specialists
who went into the classroom. But as it turned out, this wasn’t an effective practice for the classroom
teachers! They felt there were too many different people coming into the classrooms,
and they were frustrated that they didn’t always know what a specialist
was doing with a student, how to continue the support once the specialist left
the room, and so forth.
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From
a practical standpoint, it really wasn’t
possible to have effective collaboration between so many adults.
So as a staff, we spent a lot of time talking
and thinking, and came up with the concept of
the specialists forming a resource team for the
next school year. The team included special ed
teachers, a gifted/talented teacher, a speech
therapist, and a Title I teacher. With the permission
of the rest of the faculty, we gave it a try.
These specialists essentially cross-trained each other. Each member
of the team was assigned one grade level. For example, “Mary” was assigned
to third grade. She worked with all the third grade teachers to plan instruction,
develop curriculum modifications, create different instructional strategies,
identify how to meet the needs of specific students, and so forth. This allowed
us to be very proactive—educators weren’t always playing catch-up,
trying to help a student who had fallen behind. We anticipated who needed help
and provided it.
Members of the resource team met every Friday
morning to brainstorm, learn from each other,
and have meaningful conversations about students
and their work. And, of course, they met informally
at other times as well. Throughout the year,
as children grow and learn, their needs change,
and the dynamics in each classroom change as the months
pass. So these regular meetings helped the resource team
stay on top of things.
Inclusion can be messy in practice. We had places where we fell down,
places we learned from—we’re imperfect humans! To succeed, we had to have
an atmosphere where it was okay to fail! We learned so much from our mistakes.
Parents need to give teachers permission to fail. Parents of typical kids give
teachers a certain amount of trust; the parents of kids with disabilities in
our school tended to do the same thing.
Where do physical, occupational, and
speech therapists—as well as other
specialists—fit into an inclusive school when pull-out isn’t
practiced?
Well, this was something else we learned
by doing. At first, therapists did pull kids
out for the prescribed therapy. But, again,
when kids were pulled out, they missed so
much in the classroom! And we began to question
how relevant “medical-type” therapies
were to a child’s education. We figured out therapists needed to come
into the classroom and provide relevant, meaningful assistance to the child
that supported the child’s educational goals. In many cases, therapists
moved from providing direct service to being consultants: helping teachers
learn how to implement beneficial “therapeutic-like” activities
throughout the day. Again, it’s important that services for kids with
disabilities be provided in the natural environment.
Why does the idea of inclusive education
seem to strike fear in the hearts of many
educators?
I don’t think regular ed teachers are afraid of inclusion, per se, or
of kids with disabilities. I think they’re afraid of not being able to
do the job. Almost every teacher I’ve ever known is really committed
to teaching and helping kids learn. But if classroom teachers think they’re
not going to be successful, they probably won’t support inclusion. I
feel it’s basically a fear of the unknown. Many are afraid they’ll
be expected to do things they don’t know how to do. For example, some
teachers feel they haven’t been trained in curriculum adaptation. To
address those fears, teachers need to be assured they’ll be provided
with the support they need.
Special ed teachers often have different
fears. Many are afraid that if they work
in a regular classroom their role will be
marginalized. Nothing could be further from
the truth! Their skills are extremely important
in inclusive classrooms. They’re needed, and they’re extremely valuable, in
all areas—from the planning process through the actual teaching in the
classroom.
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Educators who have been trained in
special ed and who work in the traditional
resource room/pull-out model do very
different work than classroom teachers.
And it can be hard to address all their
fears ahead of time. It’s almost
as if you just have to do it and learn as you go along. Inclusion helped our
resource teachers experience great job satisfaction. Rather than trying to
remediate a child’s disability, they successfully helped a child master
the general curriculum. And they were truly a part of a team, working with
classroom teachers and parents in a meaningful way, toward a set of shared
goals, based on real student needs.
You know, special ed isn’t a subject! It’s supposed to be a method
of helping a child become successful in the same world the rest of us are in.
And we can do this by using assistive technology, curriculum modifications,
and different types of instructional methods, as well as finding other ways
to help a child learn. Our teachers enjoyed great job satisfaction using unique
skills in the general ed environment.
We had high expectations of success
and achievement for teachers and students
at Columbine, and these could only
be met by providing massive doses of
emotional and technical support. To
be successful, we all need support
from people around us. When we set
up our inclusive model, the explicit
agreement was this: as the classroom
teacher, you’re responsible for the learning of all your
students; in exchange, we’ll provide the support you need to be successful.
We can’t expect teachers to experience success unless they’re provided
with the support they need. And supporting teachers is no different from the
process used with kids: create an atmosphere of pervasive caring.
Mike, many parents and educators
believe the only way a student with
a disability can be successfully
included is if he has a one-on-one
aide. What are your thoughts?
You have to go back to your basic core beliefs. Why would we assume
that every child with a disability needs
an adult with him all the time? If you subscribe to the belief
that everyone is either “able” or “unable,” then
you may feel a child with a disability needs an aide. But all of us have a
continuum of strengths to needs.
Things aren’t black or white! Who really has a disability? Research has
shown that deciding which students “need” an IEP is a purely subjective
decision. It’s not based on an objective disability category. Instead,
it’s based on educators deciding to staff a student into special ed because
they think that’s the best way to help a child with a disability. At
that point, the child is turned over to the special ed teachers. This is not
a good way to share responsibility.
In our school, we saw it
this way: all students would
be in regular classrooms,
and if a classroom teacher
had a student with significant
needs, then another set of
hands, eyes, or ears were
probably needed. And that
meant a person would be assigned
to assist the teacher and the classroom, not just
the child. The role of an assistant is to provide
services to help a child learn and to level the
playing field.
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There can be many dangers when an adult is assigned to the child. Kathie,
you taught me that “a full-time aide becomes a maid.” A one-on-one
para doesn’t help a child become responsible for himself. A person in
this role may actually feel sorry for the child, have low expectations for
him, and/or do too much for him. In too many cases, a child actually learns
dependence!
A para assigned to
one child can send
a very powerful message
that the classroom
teacher isn’t really responsible for the child—the para is. When
one person is assigned to a child, only that person gets to know the child.
Kids with disabilities don’t “belong” to the special ed department
or the one-on-one aides! But this is what often happens if there’s not
a sense of shared responsibility for all students. In an inclusive school,
the para, the classroom teacher, and the special ed teacher all work together
in the regular classroom to ensure all kids are supported in their learning.
Sometimes the para works directly with a student with a disability, other times
the classroom or special ed teacher provides direct instruction. Again, it’s
very important to use a variety of instructional methods that meet the child’s
individual needs.
We’ve mistakenly assumed that only adults should help children with disabilities.
But children help one another all the time. So we need to make sure peer supports
are in place, too. Kathie, I remember something you told us once about Benjamin:
that before an adult stepped in to help Benjamin, we should first see if a
child couldn’t help. We realized Benjamin’s classmates could help
him with his coat and his backpack, as well as with many other things. Sometimes
a peer can help a child learn math better than an adult can. We learned to
focus on providing the most natural supports in the classroom.
Some needs, of
course, can only
be met by an adult
helper; like when a child
needs to be physically
transferred to the toilet,
for example. Even then,
this responsibility should
be shared among a variety of
adults. If only one person
knows how to do this, what
happens if/when the person
isn’t there? [Author’s
note: Mike, as well as other educators at Columbine—not just the paras—helped
my son in the bathroom. And no one thought this was a big deal—it was
a natural outcome of the pervasive caring.]
Classmates can
do a great deal.
Friends can help
a child in the
lunchroom, during
academics, on the playground,
and every where else. This
informal type of assistance
routinely occurs among kids without disabilities.
Why shouldn’t
it happen to kids with disabilities, too?
What about
kids with “behavior” labels? Many feel “those
kids” must
have a one-on-one.
The safety
of all students
is a real concern
of teachers and
administrators,
and there is
a fear of students
who are considered “disruptive.” But,
again, pervasive caring is what’s needed. We looked at what caused a
child’s behavior to escalate, then we worked on preventing that by creating
an atmosphere in which the child was supported. And that support comes from
teachers and other students, in a variety of ways, to meet the child’s
needs. For example, some children need to be able to physically move around
when they’re learning, so teachers allowed that. Whether or not a child
is “disruptive” is often subjective, and it’s tied to the
classroom environment, the teacher’s style, and more. Our teachers used
very creative methods of helping children, and sometimes that meant modifying
the environment to meet a child’s needs. If a child is supported, feels
good about himself, and is engaged in something meaningful, “disruptive
behaviors” often disappear.
Let’s talk about funding for a moment. Many educators say they can’t “do
inclusion” because
it costs
too much.
What about
that, Mike?
Columbine
was the only
elementary
school in our
district that
was inclusive, yet
we didn’t have any more money than the other schools. Colorado is
in the middle of the pack when it comes to funding—in the neighborhood
of $5,500 per student. It was important to use our resources wisely. Special
ed rooms are staffed at a really high level: a 5 to 1 student/teacher ratio.
We didn’t have anything like that, so that saved a great deal of money.
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In addition,
we were very
careful about
not hiring a
para unless it
was absolutely
necessary. And
when we did hire
a para, that person worked
in three or four different
classrooms. For example,
one child needed behavior
support during recess, so “Kay” was on the playground at that time. Another student
needed support during the literacy block and another needed help with math.
Through careful planning and scheduling, Kay could help all these students
with their unique needs in inclusive settings. Thoughtful planning and a wise
use of resources were very important.
Also, the
atmosphere
of pervasive caring included
the belief that children
with disabilities can reach higher
levels of achievement. This flies
in the face of the notion that kids
with disabilities are limited in their learning
because of “lower-intellectual functioning” or physical limitations
or whatever. In other words, we didn’t put limits on kids’ potential.
We set high expectations and then did everything we could to help children
meet them. To ensure higher levels of achievement, we needed to create a whole
menu of instructional strategies. So we used staff development funds to help
teachers learn different strategies to meet children’s learning styles.
At Columbine,
we saw it this
way: what society
calls a “disability” often
simply represents differences—sometimes extreme differences—in
learning styles. We know that everyone has different ways of learning, and
the belief that every child is a lifelong learner permeated the culture at
our school.
When
an administrator
believes the school is
responsible for helping
every child learn in the regular
environment, and when an administrator
equips all teachers with the tools
they need to do this, the payoff
is more “real
learning” and
less
remediation.
Part
of
the
inclusion
model
at
Columbine
involved
the
staff — with
the
help
of
parents — working
hard
to
predict
which
children
might
have
difficulty
learning,
and
then
coming
up
with
strategies
to
help
kids
learn
right
from
the
start.
If
you
identify
and
meet
a
child’s
learning
needs
from
the
beginning,
you
spend
less
time
on
remedial
instruction.
Being
thoughtful
about
instructional
practices,
having
the
willingness
to
try
new
things,
and
embracing
the “whatever
it
takes” philosophy
ensures
more
real
learning
and
less
remediation.
Another
barrier
is the belief that
educators can’t do inclusion until
the staff is “ready.” How
can an administrator address
this issue?
Before
we moved
toward
inclusion,
we spent a lot
of time on a “Best Hopes/Worst
Fears” exercise. We talked about the best things that could happen if
we became an inclusive school, and then we shared our worst fears. We listed
all these on chart paper, taped them to the walls in the teachers’ lounge,
and left them there for two weeks. This gave us time to think about things.
After
the two
weeks,
we talked
about what we
needed to do
to make sure
the Worst Fears
wouldn’t happen and the Best Hopes would! It’s always
helpful when administrators give teachers the opportunity and the freedom to
express their feelings—you can’t deal with fears until they’re
out in the open. So I feel it’s really important to go through this exercise.
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Attending an inclusive education conference was something else we did to learn more, and it had mixed results. There was a lot of teacher bashing by some militant parents. This actually created more fears! Some of our teachers felt they would become targets of angry parents if they didn’t know how to do inclusion “right.” When we analyzed this, it seemed these parents were angry for two main reasons: they felt they weren’t being listened to and they felt their children’s needs weren’t being met.
We
believed
we did know
how to listen
to parents
and that we
could meet
children’s
needs. So we thought, “We can do inclusion.” We knew we didn’t
know everything, but we believed we could figure it out. You learn as you go
along. Every child is different; every classroom is different. Children change
and grow; teachers change and grow. Inclusion is a dynamic, evolutionary process.
It requires that we put meeting a child’s needs—learning needs
and other needs—first.
Inclusion
also requires
educators
to embrace an atmosphere
of risk-taking.
When we didn’t get things right the first time, we had to take risks
and try something new. And we always hoped parents would give us the space
to learn. We discovered that if we listened to parents, if we were on the same
page, and if our interests were the same, parents allowed us the freedom to
experiment with new ways of doing things to help their children learn.
What’s the role of parents in an
inclusive school?
To
communicate
very clearly about
their child’s needs and to share the
hopes and dreams they have for their child. Also, parents need to tell teachers
when they’re doing a good job and when they’re not, and give them
permission and encouragement to do something different or better. Parents need
to trust educators, but they also need to advocate for their children. And
that’s the job of every parent, not just parents of kids with disabilities.
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Parents
need to
be both
positive
and constructive,
and they also need to realize
they’re probably not going to have it all. For example, if your daughter
has Down syndrome, and you want her in an inclusive classroom, don’t
expect educators to spend hours teaching her functional skills like cooking
or tying her shoes! If she’s in an inclusive classroom, she’ll
be part of the school, just like kids without disabilities, and she’ll
be learning from the regular curriculum. There are trade-offs. If you want
educators to focus on teaching your daughter how to cook or tie her shoes,
then an inclusive classroom probably isn’t the best place for your daughter.
It
might
not be politically
correct to say
this, but it’s the reality:
schools can’t do everything for every child. A school is a resource parents
can use to help their children become successful. Parents need to consider
what they really want the school to do for their children.
I
feel
it’s really important for parents to believe in their children—to
see them as learners who have great potential. Do you want your child to acquire
only functional abilities, or do you want her to have a real future that includes
post-secondary education, a real job, and so forth? Traditionally, we’ve
spent too much time and energy trying to remediate the effects of the disability
and/or focusing on a very narrow aspect of a child’s development, instead
of focusing on the child as a whole person.
Inclusive
education,
coupled with positive
relationships between
parents and educators, creates
the opportunity for children
with disabilities to learn, grow,
and be part of life. Children
with disabilities—like all children—can
succeed in boundless ways.
You can contact Mike at mgalvin@mcrel.org.
Here are some web sites of interest:
---McREL:
www.mcrel.org
---Office of Educational Research and Improvement: www.ed.gov/offices/OERI
---Character Education Partnership: www.character.org
---Search the Internet for "social promotion" regarding info about holding students back.
©2001-06 Kathie Snow, www.disabilityisnatural.com. Permission is granted for non-commercial use of this article: you may print this web page and photocopy it to share with others. Click here to download the PDF handout version of the article. As a courtesy, please tell me (kathie@disabilityisnatural.com) how/when you use it. Do not violate copyright laws: request permission before reprinting or republishing in newsletters, on websites, or in other media. Clip art from Adobe In-Design.
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Our words reflect the way we think, so let's get rid of descriptors like "handicapped, physically disabled, mentally retarded, learning disabled" and other words that focus on the condition instead of the person. People First Language promotes dignity and respect for all!
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