Anyone who reads this blog regularly has probably noticed by now that I spend a lot of time talking about educational placement.  It is a very important topic, because the suitability of an educational placement is going to have a major influence on an individual’s future.  I certainly believe that my successful placement in a distance-learning high school program is responsible for many of my own achievements in adulthood.

Basically, my opinion about educational placement is that we need choices.  One obvious choice is the mainstream school, and I believe we must have a right to access the mainstream school if we want, but the simple reality is that many of us will find that environment unsuitable.  Therefore, we must also have alternative options.

This view seems like common-sense to me, but many oppose it.  Many argue that educational placement decisions should be made by teachers and educational authorities, rather than individuals and their families.  Many others argue that everybody should be in the mainstream, without exception.

It’s the latter view – that everyone should be in the mainstream – that I want to tackle today.  I’ve often read claims that the socially constructed nature of disability provides support for this goal of universal inclusion in the mainstream schools (e.g., Gallagher, 2001; Oliver & Barnes, 2010).  Many people assume that acceptance of the social model should automatically support the goals of this universal inclusion movement.  I strongly disagree.

The Social Model

I admit that I personally prefer the neurodiversity paradigm to the social model.[1]  However, let’s put that difference aside for the moment and say that we fully accept the premises of the social model of disability.  That means that we believe disability is created by the social environments around us, because these social environments are constructed in ways that disable us.  The classic example of this would be an environment that is physically inaccessible to physically disabled people.  We can imagine a building without accessible ramps, accessible doors, accessible washrooms, and so forth.  Such a building disables people.

This is a very intuitive idea, and one doesn’t necessarily need a lot of formal scholarly training to get the principle.[2]  We can see the idea expressed in the following statement, which was said by an autistic person to Baron-Cohen (2003, p. 181):

“People with AS [Asperger Syndrome] are like salt-water fish who are forced to live in fresh water.  We’re fine if you put us into the right environment.  When the person with AS and the environment match [emphasis in original], the problems go away and we even thrive.  When they don’t match, we seem disabled.”

Support for the social model doesn’t mean that we deny the existence of real differences between people with and without disabilities.  The social model admits the existence of these differences and describes them as “impairments,” as opposed to disabilities per se.[3]

The empirical existence of differences between autistic and neurotypical people, certainly, is not in doubt.  We have all sorts of instruments and tools to measure these differences: tools like the ADI-R (Lord et al., 1994), the ADOS (Lord et al., 2000), the 3di (Skuse et al., 2004), the DISCO (Wing et al., 2002), and the RAADS-R (Ritvo et al., 2011).  We also know that people can rapidly pick up on these differences.  Autistic people are judged negatively not only after being shown on short videos, but even in still images (Sasson et al., 2017).

When we say that autism is an invisible disability, we don’t mean that people fail to notice autistic oddities.  We mean that they don’t understand why autistic people behave oddly.  This is why we need a diagnostic label.  Without this diagnostic label, if teachers were left to teach autistic children according to strategies and instincts based on neurotypical children, teachers would not be able to help autistic children reach their full potential (Ravet, 2011).  Many teachers would assume that autistic children’s behaviour was the result of an intentional decision to make their lives more difficult, and they would therefore judge us in moral terms.[4]

These autistic oddities can also be very obvious to children’s peers, and there’s a ton of research showing that autistic children are often bullied and isolated.  This bullying and isolation would not be occurring if neurotypicals were not detecting autistic children’s eccentricities and reacting negatively.

To summarize, then, the social model says that the environment is the cause of disability, but it doesn’t deny the existence of real differences between people with and without disabilities.  These differences, moreover, can be detected by others – and people with disabilities can be judged for such differences.

The Inclusionist Argument

Now, many of those who believe in the goal of universal inclusion in mainstream schools believe that the social model provides support to their view.  They argue that specialized educational placements are trying to change the individual with a disability, rather than changing the society around the individual with a disability (Gartner & Lipsky, 1987, p. 388).  They argue that the idea of educational specialization assumes that disability proceeds directly from the individual alone, and not their context (Gallagher, 2001, p. 651).

I find this logic counter-intuitive and hard to follow, but I think it rests on the conflation of inclusion and mainstreaming.  I’ve written about this at greater length elsewhere, but basically anyone who claims that everybody should be educated together in one environment runs into the problem that not everybody does well in the mainstream environment.  Everyone will be physically present, but not everyone will be meaningfully included.  For example, as we noted earlier, some people might be bullied and isolated.  Others might not be keeping pace with the lessons, and would be effectively excluded from learning.

To deal with this problem, those who wanted mainstreaming turned to rhetorical trickery.  They argued that our goal should not merely be the physical placement of children with disabilities in the mainstream schools, but also reform of the mainstream schools to make them truly “inclusive.”  Thus, any shortcoming of real mainstream schools suddenly isn’t counted as a blow against the goal of mainstreaming everyone, because the failures of these schools just reflect a failure to achieve “inclusion.”  Instead of abandoning the project of mainstreaming everyone, we’re supposed to just keep pouring in more resources until this elusive state of full inclusion is achieved.

Like I said, advocates of universal inclusion have conflated inclusion and mainstreaming.  At some point in their argument, they started assuming that genuine inclusion is only possible in a mainstream school, which has to be reformed to be made inclusive.  Now we can understand why they might assume the social model supports their views: they see their goal as modifying the mainstream environment to make it accessible, and therefore they see their approach as the only one which attempts to eliminate disability by reforming the environment.  Sending students to specialized schools is, in this view, akin to admitting that there is something fundamentally wrong with these students: a disability that resides in the individual, not their environment.

What’s Wrong Here?

Like I said, I find this argument extremely counter-intuitive.  I don’t agree with it at all.  Remember that quote about the saltwater fish in the freshwater environment?  Well, expressed in terms of this fish analogy, the inclusionist argument I laid out above goes something like this:

1. The salt-water fish (children with disabilities) need to successfully swim alongside their fresh-water peers (children without disabilities) in the fresh-water river (mainstream school).
2. Any failure of the salt-water fish (children with disabilities) to successfully swim alongside their fresh-water peers (children without disabilities) in the fresh-water river (mainstream school) is a failure to achieve inclusion in the fresh-water river (mainstream school).
3. To achieve inclusion in the fresh-water river (mainstream school), we must make the salt-water fish (children with disabilities) successfully swim alongside their fresh-water peers (children without disabilities) in the fresh-water river (mainstream school).

It sounds ridiculous, right?  The social model says that our social environment causes our disabilities, but when we support universal mainstreaming, we are constraining ourselves to educating children in one type of social environment.  We’re assuming that we have to include the salt-water fish in the fresh-water river, and then setting up the impossible task of making the fresh-water river accessible to all the fish, including the salt-water fish.

Sometimes, the social environment of the mainstream is a problem in and of itself.  Sometimes, trying to force someone into the mainstream is like trying to force a salt-water fish into a fresh-water river.  In these cases, the project of mainstreaming runs directly against the social model of disability.  In these cases, we’re not trying to change the salinity of the sea, the social context of the child.  We’re forcing the child to adjust to an environment that we impose.  We’re trying to turn the salt-water fish into a fresh-water fish.  We’re changing the child, not the environment.

Ultimately, there is a limit to how much we can reform the mainstream school to make it “inclusive.”  Sometimes this is a purely practical limitation.  For example, mainstream schools are generally sprawling and overcrowded, with narrow, packed hallways.  The sensory environment of the mainstream school can be overwhelming.  In theory, we could build much smaller mainstream schools with large, airy corridors.  But I’m not expecting that to happen in the near future, because the larger schools are more efficient.

There are also cases where the mainstream school itself is the problem, not merely practically but fundamentally.  Autistic children are, as we have said before, often socially isolated.  There are ways that additional structure, better adult supervision, and so forth can limit bullying and encourage children to be more inclusive of others.  However, there’s a genuine sense in which autistic children are simply different from neurotypical children.  Many of us will simply form better and more genuine social connections with people who are more similar to us – who share our own interests or who share our own diagnosis.  Such people are, by definition, found in limited numbers in the mainstream school, where classes are grouped together based on age and geographical distance.[5]  However, one might find it easier to form genuine social connections if one were in an appropriate specialized school with like-minded peers.

Rights and Duties

For me, one of the most exasperating things I hear in the universalist inclusion rhetoric is the idea that the universalists are defending the “right” of autistic people to access the mainstream.  No, that’s not what universalists are doing.  Not at all.

I’m defending the right of autistic people to access the mainstream when I say that autistic people should have an inalienable right to the mainstream, but also the choice of alternatives.  That’s what it means to have a right: we can exercise our right if we want to, but we’re not being forced.

The universalists are talking about a duty, not a right.  They’re demanding that everyone with a disability should go to a mainstream school, whether they like it or not.

When I fled the mainstream, I would have been astonished and deeply horrified to find there was a large group of people trying to preserve my “right” to the mainstream by barring any alternatives.  Fortunately for me, they failed to prevent my departure.

The social model of disability states that disability emerges from our social contexts.  Similarly, the neurodiversity paradigm states that disability emerges from the interaction of individuals and their social contexts.  Neither view lends support to the goal of universal inclusion in the mainstream school.  Both views suggest that we should have choices about the form which our social contexts should take.  Both views suggest that different social contexts – different educational environments – will be appropriate for different learners.

This is why we need a choice.  We need to defend the right to the mainstream school, because that environment may be right for many of us.  But defending our right to the mainstream doesn’t mean abandoning our alternatives.  It doesn’t mean imposing the mainstream as a duty, irrespective of the needs and desires of individuals.  It doesn’t mean forcing all the salt-water fish to adapt themselves to the fresh-water river: it means giving them a genuine choice between different fresh-water rivers and salt-water seas.

Footnotes

[1] Contrary to popular belief, the social model and the neurodiversity paradigm are NOT the same thing.

[2] Nor does one necessarily need to accept the premise that the disability is entirely caused by the environment (as the social model insists) and that the characteristics of the individual do not contribute to the disability: ultimately, the basic point is just that (as the neurodiversity paradigm says) there is some kind of mismatch between the individual and the environment.

[3] You can see here that the language of the social model doesn’t translate well into the field of neurodevelopmental diversity.  The social model was originally developed by and for physically disabled people, and a physical functional limitation can indeed be described as an “impairment.”  However, it’s less clear whether neurodevelopmental divergence is necessarily “impairing.”  Intense interests, for example, can be useful in various ways.  The idea of “impairment” also encounters problems in other areas.  Deaf people, for example, could be said to have a hearing “impairment,” but Deaf advocates might reply that hearing people who don’t know how to sign are just as impaired.

[4] Some teachers do this even after a diagnosis is provided, of course – but the diagnosis helps.

[5] In my home province of British Columbia, and perhaps elsewhere, there are even rules to limit the number of children with disabilities in any mainstream classroom.  While I understand how these rules can make teachers’ lives easier, the rules also ensure that autistic children will be kept separated from their own neurotype.  I fear this sort of separation has negative consequences for identity development.

References

Baron-Cohen, S. (2003). The essential difference: Male and female brains and the truth about autism. New York: Basic Books.

Gallagher, D. J. (2001). Neutrality as a moral standpoint, conceptual confusion and the full inclusion debate. Disability & Society, 16(5), 637-654. https://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09687590120070042

Gartner, A., & Lipsky, D. K. (1987). Beyond special education: Toward a quality system for all students. Harvard Educational Review, 57(4), 367-395. https://dx.doi.org/10.17763/haer.57.4.kj517305m7761218

Lord, C., Risi, S., Lambrecht, L., Cook, E. H., Jr., Leventhal, B. L., DiLavore, P. C., … Rutter, M. (2000). The Autism Diagnostic Observation Schedule–Generic: A standard measure of social and communication deficits associated with the spectrum of autism. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 30(3), 205-223. https://dx.doi.org/10.1023/A:1005592401947

Lord, C., Rutter, M., & Le Couteur, A. (1994). Autism Diagnostic Interview–Revised: A revised version of a diagnostic interview for caregivers of individuals with possible pervasive developmental disorders. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 24(5), 659-685. https://dx.doi.org/10.1007/BF02172145

Oliver, M., & Barnes, C. (2010). Disability studies, disabled people and the struggle for inclusion. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 31(5), 547-560. https://dx.doi.org/10.1080/01425692.2010.500088

Ravet, J. (2011). Inclusive/exclusive? Contradictory perspectives on autism and inclusion: The case for an integrative position. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 15(6), 667–682. https://doi.org/10.1080/13603110903294347

Ritvo, R. A., Ritvo, E. R., Guthrie, D., Ritvo, M. J., Hufnagel, D. H., McMahon, W., … Eloff, J. (2011). The Ritvo Autism Asperger Diagnostic Scale-Revised (RAADS-R): A scale to assist in the diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder in adults: An international validation study. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 41(8), 1076-1089. https://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s10803-010-1133-5

Sasson, N. J., Faso, D. J., Nugent, J., Lovell, S., Kennedy, D. P., & Grossman, R. B. (2017). Neurotypical peers are less willing to interact with those with autism based on thin slice judgments. Scientific Reports, 7, 40700. https://doi.org/10.1038/srep40700

Skuse, D., Warrington, R., Bishop, D., Chowdhury, U., Lau, J., Mandy, W., & Place, M. (2004). The Developmental, Dimensional, and Diagnostic Interview (3di): A novel computerized assessment for autism spectrum disorders. Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, 43(5), 548-558. https://dx.doi.org/10.1097/00004583-200405000-00008

Wing, L., Leekam, S. R., Libby, S. J., Gould, J., & Larcombe, M. (2002). The Diagnostic Interview for Social and Communication Disorders: Background, inter-rater reliability, and clinical use. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry, 43(3), 307-325. https://dx.doi.org/10.1111/1469-7610.00023