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REVOLUTIONARY COMMON SENSE LIBRARY
The Case Against "Special Needs"
Revolutionary Common Sense by Kathie Snow
www.disabilityisnatural.com
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Words simultaneously reflect and reinforce our attitudes and perceptions; words shape our world. Many “disability labels” evoke feelings and imagery that perpetuate archaic and negative stereotypical perceptions. In turn, these perceptions create a powerful attitudinal barrier, which is the greatest obstacle to the success and inclusion of individuals who have been labeled.
Using People First Language (PFL) is a step in the right direction. For
example, using PFL, we put the person before the disability and use
more respectful terminology as in, “He has a cognitive disability,” instead
of, “He’s
retarded.” (See the People
First Language article.) Many of us are consigning stigma-laden personal descriptors to the
junk heap, such as “high/low functioning,” “developmental
age,” “wheelchair
bound,” and others. But one term—“special needs”—continues
to be embraced by many. Because this term is so commonly used, we seldom
consider what message it sends or what image it evokes.
“Special needs” is a loaded descriptor that has done nothing to
improve perceptions and everything to reinforce negative images. As a parent,
I once used this term to describe my son when he was very young. Why not? That’s
what I heard coming out of the mouths of many: other parents, as well as therapists,
educators, and others. But I stopped saying this years ago when I realized
it’s a descriptor that generates pity. Tell a new acquaintance, “My
child has ‘special needs’.” The response is predictable:
a sad, “Ohhh...” accompanied by a sympathetic pat on the arm. Worse,
some even add, “I’m so sorry...” And this conversation often
takes place in front of the child! What must it feel like to be the object
of pity, especially when it’s generated by the words of your own parent
or someone else who professes to care about you?
Adults with developmental disabilities are our greatest teachers.
I’ve
never met one who likes “special needs.” They vehemently describe
disliking the “special” label as children, and they absolutely
detest it as adults.
When I share this information during presentations, many parents
defend their use of the term and add, “But don’t all children have ‘special
needs’?” or “Aren’t all children ‘special’?” I
might agree if the term had positive connotations and if we really meant “special.” But
it doesn’t and we don’t.
Once we use the “special needs” label, we stop thinking about an
individual child and our ingrained assumptions take over. “Oh, yes, we
know about those ‘special needs’ kids...” And at that point,
we effectively rob a child of opportunities and put limits on her potential.
First, we’ve stripped her of the opportunity to define herself; what
child can defend herself against the words and actions of her parents, teachers,
and others? Second, we continue our robber baron ways by stealing opportunities
for the child to lead a typical life. When applied to children and adults with
disabilities, the “special” descriptor frequently—and almost
automatically—leads to segregation! If we say a child has “special
needs,” then by extension, she must need “special (segregated)
ed,” “special” activities, and “special” environments.
If she has “special needs” then she must not be “regular,” and
is therefore not entitled to participate in “regular” (typical)
activities or live a Real Life. Too often, “special” has become
a metaphor for “segregated.”
A parent may believe that her child can and should be included
in school and the community. But if she uses “special needs” when describing
her child to others, they may believe that inclusion isn’t an option—only
a “special” environment will do. Labeling a child with the “special
needs” descriptor puts her in a box—a box of our making, a box
she never asked to be put into, and a box that limits hopes, dreams, high expectations,
opportunities, and more. Many educators admit that they routinely have low
expectations for children who are labeled with “special needs.”
If our society believed children with “special needs” were really
special, wouldn’t every parent dream of having a “child with special
needs?” But the opposite is true: our society so devalues children with
disabilities that identifying and aborting them before they’re even born
is recommended by many health care professionals, and practiced by many parents.
And within the adoption world, “special needs children” are often
at the bottom of the list of “desirable children.” So, again, just
how special are children with “special needs?” Isn’t the
term actually a harmful euphemism which means just the opposite?
What do we really mean by “special needs” anyway? Like other disability
descriptors, it may initially apply to one aspect of a person’s life
(a medical condition), but it quickly defines every aspect of a person like
a terrible, dark shroud. Some people use the longer descriptor: “children
with special health care needs.” What makes one type of health care needs
different or more “special” from another? Where, exactly, is the
dividing line between “regular” health care needs and “special” health
care needs? Who made this rule? Is this written somewhere? Do children with
disabilities go to “special needs doctors” or “special needs
hospitals?” I don’t think so! During visits to my son’s pediatric
orthopedic physician, we saw children who had permanent physical disabilities
and others with broken legs or arms. Does the child with a developmental disability
have “special needs,” but the child with a broken leg has “regular
needs?”
If we use the “special health care needs” descriptor with legislators
or policymakers, don’t we need to explain what we really mean, or is
the “special needs” imagery (“those poor, pitiful children”)
so deeply implanted in people’s minds that it’s assumed we know
who and what we’re talking about? A child might need a specific type
of health care services, a wheelchair, or other types of support, accommodations,
or assistive technology. And these may be different from the needs of a majority
of children. But what makes these needs “special?” They’re
not “special” to the child. They are, in fact, perfectly ordinary
needs for him. Calling my son’s needs “special” because he
needs a power wheelchair for effective mobility and I don’t (at the present
time) is an arrogant judgment call on my part.
What about the “special ed students” descriptor? In one school
district’s report on its “inclusive practices,” the terms “special
education students” or “special needs students” littered
every page. The very use of these terms contradicted the thesis of the report:
that students with disabilities were “included.” Exclusion and
marginalization always begin with the language we use and the mental images
evoked by our words. In schools that are truly inclusive, students who receive
special education services are “students,” first.
Who really benefits from the “special needs” label? Certainly not
the children or adults who have been labeled! They’ve been set apart
and, thus, marginalized. Supporters of this descriptor can argue that saying “children
with special needs” was necessary when advocating for certain laws, programs,
or services. However, the same outcomes could have been achieved without the
use of this pejorative term. In too many instances, we have chosen to use “special
needs” in order to gain our objectives (because it evokes powerful emotions),
but at what price to those who have been labeled?
“Special needs” is everywhere! The term is used by many organizations,
it’s on hundreds of websites, and it’s one of the best terms for
pulling at heartstrings! Want to raise money for your organization? Promote
it as a fundraiser for “special needs kids,” consider the imagery
(“those poor, pitiful children”), and watch the dollars roll in.
But again, at what price to the children who have been saddled with this sympathy-laden
term?
Have we ever wondered how this descriptor might
impact other children in the family? A brother
might think, “If Mom says Katie is ‘special,’ what
does that make me? Does Mom love her more?” The label can breed resentment
and anger. But as the brother grows, he’ll probably realize he doesn’t
want to be “special,” especially if his “special” sister
is marginalized, excluded, and pitied.
Far from being a compliment or an accurate
term, “special needs” is
a pejorative descriptor that creates a powerful attitudinal barrier to the
inclusion of people who have been labeled. When using People First Language,
we put the person first and also replace antiquated descriptors with words
that are more respectful and accurate. But there is no singular replacement
term for “special needs.”
We can, however, use a variety of different
descriptors, depending on the situation. In
schools—and when it’s appropriate—we can say “students
who receive special ed services” (that’s what it’s supposed
to be: services brought to the student, instead of making the student go to
where the services are located). And we can use the generic, “children
with disabilities” or the specific, “A child with (the name of
the medical diagnosis),” when appropriate. But the use of any label should
be restricted to specific times and places (at an IEP meeting, the doctor’s
office, etc.). Labels are, after all, simply medical diagnoses, and just as
most of us don’t share personal information such as medical diagnoses
with every Tom, Dick, and Harry, we shouldn’t be sharing the personal
information of children and adults who have been labeled unless it’s
absolutely necessary, under certain circumstances, and with the permission
of the person!
If we’re serious about exploding disability myths and creating an inclusive
society, do we dare set one group apart with the “special” descriptor?
Shall we continue to perpetuate pity and marginalize people by using this label?
Isn’t it time to stop calling people names which they never chose to
use about themselves? When we change our language, we change perceptions and
attitudes. And when the Great Wall of attitudinal barriers falls, other barriers
will also come tumbling down. Are the words you’re using promoting a
positive or negative image? Are they propping up the Great Wall of harmful
perceptions or helping to tear it down?
©2002-06 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 clipartinc.com.
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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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