Hidden Voices: Hidden Voices: Young People with Disabilities Speak about their Second Level Schooling

A Research Project Commissioned by The South West Regional Authority

Prepared by Máirín Kenny PhD, Eileen McNeela B.Ed., MBA, Michael Shevlin PhD, Tom Daly B.Ed., MA.

enabletech home


‘People don’t understand, and you can’t really expect them to either because there is nothing out there to tell them about this’


Table of contents
About the Team
Rationale for this Project
Aim and objectives
Summary
Insights

Section 1: Methodology, Literature, Policy Documents
1.1: Registering ‘Hidden Voices’: Methodology
       Participant recruitment
       Interview procedure
       Data analysis
       Procedural validity
       Participants as research partners
       Validation of findings
1.2: Literature Review
       Societal Perceptions Of Disabled People
       Integration of Pupils With Disabilities
       Policy in Ireland: Overview

Section 2: Life and Work in School
2.1: Introduction to Data analysis
       Section Structure
2.2: Access to school: Entry and mobility issues
       Choice of school: getting into ‘the school around the corner’
       School ethos
       Mobility: getting around in the learning environment
2.3: Setting the context for academic progress
       Class Placement: Flexibility
       Expectations
2.4: Accessing the School Programme
       Teaching Practice and Student Performance
       Teaching Practice
       Laboratory work and physical activities
       Extra curricular activities
       Inclusion and differentiation: the challenge to schools.
       Parental involvement
       Outcomes: achievement/examinations; career preparation

Section 3: Life and Work Outside School
3.1: Post-school choices
       Mainstream: third level
       Specialised provision: third level and further education
       The World of Work
3.2: Socialising, in and out of school
       Introducing one’s self
       Belonging and isolation
       Coping

Section 4: Lessons to be learned
4.1: The ‘real world/out there’: perceptions and practice
4.2: Developing disability awareness
       Why a Disabilities Awareness Programme?
       Disability awareness: good teaching practice.
       Disabilities as a curriculum topic
       Images and texts in curricula and in the school environment
4.3: Consultation
       Student Representation – why not?

Section 5: Conclusions and Recommendations
5.1: What the data said
       Introduction
       Issues
       Reflection on Issues
       Window of Opportunity: Disability Awareness
       Participants’ evaluations in context
5.2: System response: framework and recommendations
      Possibilities for system response
5.3: Insights arising from this study
5.4: Recommendations arising from these insights
5.5: Research issues arising
Final statement
Appendix: A brief analysis of relevant elements in the Government of Ireland Education Act (1998)
Bibliography


About the team.
Dr. Máirín Kenny was Principal of St Kieran’s NS for Travellers, Bray. Now a research consultant, she is conducting a field study of Travellers’ identity management, commissioned by Pavee Point.

Eileen Mc Neela is a former primary school teacher. A research consultant since 1996, she has been involved in evaluating and researching Government and EU funded education and training projects in Ireland. One of her current projects involves identifying policy implications relating to lifelong learning for people with disabilities, emerging from the Horizon employment programmes.

Dr. Michael Shevlin, a former second-level teacher, collaborated with St. Michael’s House in initiating the ‘Links’ programme for mainstream and special schools. Now a member of staff of the Department of Education, Trinity College, Dublin, he lectures on special needs.

Tom Daly was a mainstream teacher in Boherbue Comprehensive School, Co. Cork, when he initiated the SOLAS project that provides information technology supports for students with physical disabilities in mainstream second level schools. He acted as educational consultant to the South West Regional Authority in the development of the DATE project and is currently managing the combined DATE and SOLAS Projects.

Rosemary O'Leary graduated from UCC with a BA (Hons) in Applied Psychology. She worked on the DATE Project as a researcher and teacher co-ordinator, and is enrolled in the Psychology Society of Ireland's Professional Diploma in Educational Psychology.

The team wishes to extend its thanks to all the interview participants, true project partners, who gave so much of their time and thought to this project.

Thanks to the South West Regional Authority and the DATE Project who supported this research concept to its realisation, through funding and commitment of resources. Thanks also to agencies who supported the research process, through contacting potential participants, and providing interview spaces and planning resources.

Finally, two people helped at key points in the analytic process. Thanks to Stephanie Loughman, PhD student, for discussion of issues, and indicators of useful literature. Thanks also to Sorcha Hyland, MA, for editing and commentary on the analysis.


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‘Hidden Voices’: Rationale for this Project
The DATE Project (Disabled Access To Education) was run by the South West Regional Authority under the EU HORIZON programme. It examined the role of Information and Communication Technologies in meeting the special educational needs of pupils with disabilities in the mainstream education system. The Project involved fifty three pupils from throughout Cork and Kerry, along with their families and schools, and included the development and delivery of a special learning programme through a computer-based, digital network. Though highly productive, the realisation of the full project potential was inhibited by system factors. One such factor, that the voices of people with disabilities were not registered in research or policy literature, had been identified by a pre-pilot SOLAS project that was run from Boherbue Comprehensive School, with the assistance of the South West Regional Authority. This revealed the need for further research into how the realities of the experience of pupils with disabilities in the mainstream system could be registered and analysed, as a basis for the development of systems of provision (Daly, 1999). With the assistance of the National Rehabilitation Board, (NRB) which administers HORIZON funding for such projects in Ireland, this became possible through the DATE project.

It is said that no children are consulted in relation to how schools operate (Wade and Moore, 1993). However, in a sense the majority need no longer talk because they have already been heard on fundamentals. They do not have to ascertain if toilets will be accessible to them. They do not have to work on finding ways of getting to the first floor for classes (they can assume there will be stairs), or of getting involved in class activities (the equipment arrives conventionally designed), or of ensuring that they can hear, see, and record what is being taught. They do not have to worry about how their repeated requests for help will affect how they are perceived by teachers or peers. Little need be said when so much can be assumed. Students with disabilities will know they have been heard when they do not need to speak in relation to such fundamentals either. Where physical provision and pedagogy promote involvement, the need for special attention to disabilities is reduced. Then all students can seek to be heard in relation to the content and processes the education system offers to or imposes on all.

The Irish education system was developed on the basis of a narrowly defined concept of normality. In mainstream schools what the non-disabled majority required was deemed to suffice for all. This assumption was facilitated by separate provision for people with disabilities. However, with the introduction of a national policy of integration, this paradigm of normality no longer suffices. The material environment, academic processes, and social relations in schools are all proving inadequate to meet the needs of the full spectrum of students. Hence this ‘Hidden Voices’ exploratory survey.
The use of the term ‘assistive technology’ to denote specialised equipment for people with specific disabilities, is itself an indicator of the invisibility of convention. All teaching depends on assistive technology. Pens and books are assistive technologies without which all knowledge would be transmitted, and its absorption tested, orally. Some students with disabilities require additional specific assistive technology, but they are not essentially different in so doing; each able-bodied/disabled student’s needs are situated in a sort of branching network of needs. Given the ever growing power of electronic technology, it is possible now as never before, to ‘level the playing pitch’ for all.

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‘Hidden Voices’: Aim and objectives
The aim of the "Hidden Voices" research project was to initiate a process whereby the grounded experience of people with disabilities is incorporated as a factor in the official domain, in relation to developing education policy and provision.

Objectives:

1) To carry out a small exploratory survey to identify the feasibility and value of recording the experience of young people with disabilities in second level schools.
2) To analyse their experience, so that their voices contribute to shaping developments in system policy, resource provision, and practice.
3) To identify the feasibility of conducting similar research with other stakeholders in the education system, for instance: parents, teachers, management, policy makers.

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Summary
This project was conducted as a small scale exploratory survey, using qualitative methods. Participants were invited to join in semi-structured, taped group interviews, in atwo-stage process (findings from the first round of interviews were communicated to participants for further discussion, in a second round). The research process proved powerful in two senses:
Participants were empowered by the consultation process; and
Their insights powerfully revealed systemic inadequacies, as underpinning local failures.
This double outcome indicates the value of listening to hitherto ‘hidden voices’ – the power of extracting and interpreting source information from people with disabilities and using it to break the educational mould/repetitive cycle that inhibits their inclusion.

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Insights
Systemic commitment, and local policy and practice
The local context is nested within the national system of education provision. Current national education policy promotes locational access to schools, but does not adequately address the promotion of full inclusion in the academic and social life of a school. In keeping with this lack of top-level policy commitment, there is little evidence of the substantive, consistent resource provision necessary to promote such inclusion.

Within this inadequate systemic context, quality of local policy and resource provision were erratic and highly dependent on the local education partners – teachers, parents, local management, and disabled students’ able-bodied peers.

In this ‘Hidden Voices’ survey, participants’ experience highlights intersecting difficulties in the physical, the academic and the social environment. These pointed to underlying systemic inadequacies, and further, to inadequacies in the paradigm of normality.

In the physical/built environment, for instance, supports such as ramps and handrails were not guaranteed for those who found stairs difficult. Building structures often intersected with time-tabling, putting tremendous pressure on disabled students where rapid movement from one classroom to another was required. Specific learning-related assistive technologies were only erratically available.

Academic access, access to the curriculum, was also dependent on material and non-material factors. In class activities such as Science, that required equipment, availability of adapted equipment depended on local school and teacher insight, and on resources. In all subject areas, teachers were not trained to recognise disabilities and adapt their teaching practice appropriately.

Social access, or the development of relationships with teachers and peers, was skewed and inhibited by all of the above. Because the necessary physical and personnel supports were lacking, many participants, in their efforts to achieve inclusion in school life, had to place great strain on their relationships with peers and teachers. They had to ask constantly for help and were loath to approach the same person too often. Lacking personal assistants, participants with specific disabilities had to rely on peers and teachers for assistance with personal needs. Teachers’ perceptions of participants’ potential were highly significant: some globalised their difficulty, categorising the student wholly in terms of her/his disability, or conflating a range of disabilities (‘if you have a physical disability you also have a learning one’).

So, the absence of supports meant that the person’s disability took centre stage in relationships. Participants wanted to live a normal school life, but oversight meant that they had to live a ‘disabled’ one. This deflated their ambitions and self-esteem, leading to a sense of isolation.

The absence of supports also meant that students’ disappointment and anger at system failure was directed at the service deliverers, the teachers, who in the pursuit of their professional duties, were themselves failed by the system.

A new paradigm is needed: it is normal for the student population, reflecting society in general, to include a percentage of members with disabilities. Education provision flowing from such an inclusive paradigm would necessitate, at all levels, commitment to developing policy, and providing training, materials and other resources necessary to ensure that all could lead a normal school life.

In sum, participants discussions predominately centred on the following:

Issues relating to representation, to being heard, all focussed on the systemic. Participants wanted representation by mandated professionals, and their entitlements protected in law.

And, arising from the inadequacies in systemic preparedness to include them -participants experienced all obstacles to access and academic progress, as refracted through the lens of relationships.

Recommendations for change arising from these insights pertain to all levels and facets of education provision (for instance, excellent national policy and teacher training can be ‘uncoupled’ or rendered ineffectual by middle management oversight). Resources must be put in place to ensure effective implementation of a new vision, which will enable all children, disabled or not, to enter the education system and progress to the best of their ability, as normal members of society.

Participants’ insights prove the need for an inclusive education philosophy, recognising the need for full curriculum access for all students including those with disabilities (Carpenter et al., 1996). The following is a general summary of recommendations. For more detailed expansions of these, see Chapter 5.

Legislation, on foot of the 1998 Education Act, to promote and protect the educational entitlements of people with disabilities (for a brief review of relevant elements in of the Act, see Appendix).

Promotion and protection of equal access for disabled people in policy statements at all levels of the system.

Provision of all necessary supports, at all levels from pre-school to adult education, to ensure that students with disabilities can not only access, but are included in, all facets of the education process, physical, academic, and social.

Disability awareness training for all involved in delivering education provision, from national administrators, to local voluntary managerial personnel, to teachers and other support staff in schools.

Training in diagnostic and specialised pedagogic skills for teaching staff.

As part of developments such as the IT2000 programme, training and regular updating for all teachers, beginning with remedial and resource teachers and guidance counsellors, in the range and applications of assistive technologies.

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Section 1: Methodology, Literature, Policy Documents
1.1: Registering ‘Hidden Voices’: Methodology
The key objective of this exploratory survey was ‘to register the experience of young people with disabilities in second level schools; so that it shapes developments in system policy and practice’. In keeping with a commitment to registering the grounded experience of this silenced minority in the process of reflection and anlysis, this Report opens with an account of how members of that minority were included as partners in the research project.
This research project was designed as a small-scale exploratory survey. Interviews were conducted with small groups, convened via agencies involved with people with disabilities. A qualitative analytic method - discourse analysis of transcripts of semi-structured, taped interviews - was adopted as being most suitable for scrutiny of this data.
Methods outlined below are well discussed in a wide range of literature on qualitative research (including for instance, Denscombe, 1998, Potter and Wetherell, 1989, Silverman, 1993). Particular attention was devoted to adopting research procedures which respected and validated the experiences of young people with disabilities (Atkinson and Williams, 1990, Beresford, 1997).

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Participant recruitment
Target groups and selection criteria:
The target group were young adults who had left second level school in the last two or three years. People currently enrolled in second level schools were not selected, on ethical grounds: the interview process would impact in unpredictable ways on these students’ school lives.

To ensure productive focus, it was decided to target young adults who were enrolled in further education and training institutions, or who had connections with organisations providing services for people with disabilities (regarding people who have dropped out of the education network, see below).

A group format for interviews was selected, for the practical purpose of maximising the numbers who could participate and, more importantly, to introduce the dynamic of mutual interaction among participants. A compromise between cluster and focus groups was decided on as the best option, given that the population in question is so widely dispersed. Groups would have to include people with a wide range of disabilities, male and female, urban and rural.

Recruitment process: Participants were recruited via a Regional Authority, a national organisation established to promote access for young people with disabilities in third level education, and a specialised third level college. Notices were sent out to the organisations’ clients, explaining what the project was about and how it would be conducted and inviting participation.

Numbers: All who came forward were included. There were three groups. The rural group numbered four; the specialised college group (urban) numbered seven; the third level group (urban) numbered four; and one rural participant who corresponded by e-mail. Of the total of sixteen, six were male, ten female. (see below for comment on how group composition met criteria listed above).

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Interview procedure
There were two phases to the interview process. Interviews lasted about one and a half hours each. The research team conducted interviews in pairs as far as possible, to facilitate monitoring and conducting the interview, and to ease the social interactions, soften the tutorial group image. For the first interview with each group, the team had devised a topic checklist which they used as a reference guide, to ensure that issues identified in current literature would in fact get covered at some stage in the group discussion. Otherwise, the sequence of and weight given to topics was determined by the group discussion. In addition to the checklist topics, some other issues were raised by the participants.

Transcripts of these discussions were analysed (for comment on analytical procedures, see below). From this was drawn up an interim statement of findings and a modified checklist, which was then used in the second phase interviews. Participants were invited if they wished, to critique and to expand this interim review and analysis of their experience based on the first set of interviews.

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Data analysis
Close textual readings of data yielded the findings presented here; review of the full data body in the light of these findings indicate that more detailed analysis would probably not generate further insights. Potter and Wetherell (1989) note that the essential criteria for discourse analysis procedures can be observed, whatever the level of detail; discourse analysis focuses on:

what is actually said or written, not some general idea that seems to be intended ... Part of the technique is inevitably a critical interrogation of our own presuppositions and unexamined technique of sense making. ... Analysis is made up of two closely related phases. First the search for pattern in the data ... Second, concern with function and consequence, ... forming hypotheses about these. ( p. 168)

The interviews transcribed; the transcript text was coded, using a computer software Atlasti, 4.1 for Windows 95, a text interpretation, text management and theory building tool. Fifty four codes were identified; often the same stretch of multi-referential text was filed under several code titles. Words or phrases to serve as code titles were drawn from the data, or were minimal summaries of it. The codes were grouped into ‘super-codes’. This process was challenged by coding the data under three general headings - self, other, and situation – followed by subdivisions. Harmonies and divergences between bottom-up and top-down procedures generated further insights, and tested the validity of both codings. Final codings captured insights from both, and most effectively revealed themes and interactions between them in interview talk.

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Procedural validity
Sampling:

Th question arises: how representative were the participant population? Statistical information on people with physical and sensory disabilities in Ireland is unavailable (Commission on the Status of People with Disabilities, 1997), though the population is known to be small, scattered, and diverse in relation to numerous criteria, including range of disabilities, socio-economic status, ethnic status, family factors, gender, the urban-rural locational continuum (and for this research project, add school experience). Therefore, the concept of a representative sample is problematic and – particularly in a survey of this small scale- possibly unrealisable. However, consideration of a few relevant issues is necessary and useful.

Though their absence seems too self-explanatory to be noted, it is significant that the following voices were not heard: people who had no interest in matters academic; people who were totally satisfied with their academic career; and people who for whatever reason were ‘alienated’ and did not want to or could not talk about their time in school. Those who are satisfied with their lives may not feel a need to be heard, though it would be interesting to assess why they are content, in the interests of replicating those conditions for others. However, the system needs to hear those who have been pushed out, for the opposite and arguably more urgent reason. These varieties of experience require documentation, but in a different project.

The gender balance in all groups was the reverse of that obtaining in the general population of people with disabilities. Females outnumbered males in the interview group by two to one. This may have been purely circumstantial, a random outcome of sample size. However, it may also suggest a question for further research: did the research participant body actually reflect the career paths of the wider population - do more males than females with disabilities either do very well or drop out completely (and not feel the need or desire to join a research project)?

There seemed to be some evidence of variations experience, relating to the urban-rural continuum, and this also could be researched further. Variations may be due to how factors such as distance and access to suitable transport impact on opportunities for socialising and for diversifying educational experience.

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Participants as research partners
The two-phase interview structure worked well. Participant involvement is indicated by the length of the sessions, as well as by the fact that almost all returned for the second phase sessions; those who could not, sent regrets. This strong positive response to the two-phase project structure validates the conduct of this research project.

The two-phase structure also provided opportunity for participants to evaluate their own accounts and to critique how researchers registered these. Some modifications were introduced into both, but there was a high level of consistency between participants’ first and second phase accounts and evaluations.

Consultation, in this study, was both a tool and a topic. As a survey tool, consultation through interview yielded powerfully illuminating data. The process was also valued by participants, as evidenced by their return for the phase two sessions.

This study validates the argument for consulting students regarding their own education (Lewis and Lindsay, 2000). Both in their accounts of their experience and in their prescriptive analysis, participants in this survey provided new insights into the blocks and possibilities inherent in the existing putatively inclusive system, and have identified how simple but profound the required changes are.

More importantly, the issue of returning findings to research participants is of ethical significance . An interview experience, and processing it, is part of the life of the participant and can have diverse knock-on effects. Each interview provided participants with a context wherein they could reflect on their experience, place it in a wider context, and develop their thinking about issues that affected them. The two-phase structure offered a chance to push thinking further, and no doubt the prospect of it impacted on how participants processed their experience in the first phase. They valued their role as research partners, and wanted to know if the Report would promote effective inclusion policy and practice in the school system.

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Interview focus and participants’ experience
Because the interview structure was so open, participants’ angle of focus and the relative weight they attached to topics call for reflective attention. People usually only take trouble to register ‘remarkable’ experiences; most do not feel a need to register the mundane. In this project, all the participants wanted to register their experience in relation to least one aspect of their second level school career. Each one’s experience of second-level schooling was mixed, and had its own particular balance of positive and negative with regard to teachers, peers and parents, and with regard to curriculum access, the built environment, the system, examinations, etc.

Participants, like many young people, were rigorous critics of their schools and teachers. However, experience relating to their disabilities intersected with their age-appropriate perceptions. Their presence highlighted how schools are fundamentally designed to meet majority needs. An unintended outcome is that minorities’ needs are overlooked. This is experienced by the minority with disabilities as exclusion, or special positive or negative treatment. Such treatment, whether conscious or unconscious, painfully sharpened participants’ experience of interactions with school, teachers, and peers.

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Validation of findings
Participants’ accounts are not of course infallible statements of how things ‘really’ were, but of how they were experienced by them. Other parties involved in any given incident might give quite different versions. However, participants’ accounts of their educational experience are a powerful indicator of how what was believed to have been delivered, was in fact received. This must be attended to.

Coherence in discussion of themes within the research data offers a test of validity; consistency between themes that emerged, and themes identified in literature (see below) also indicate that the experiences registered in this survey were shared across a broad spectrum.

Internal coherence: The e-mail correspondent asked to have the checklist sent to him. His written response could have been knitted into any of the three interviews - an indicator, if a sole one, that any ‘bubble effect’ (a mood that can develop by virtue of the group dynamic, and skew participants’ orientation ) was minimal in the group discussions. There was also high internal coherence between the topics that arose, and treatments of them in the three groups’ discussions.

‘Deviant cases’ occurred. These are actions or events which seem to give the lie to the speakers’ dominant argument, but which, on analysis, prove to be contradictions caused by the very factors around which participants organise their argument. For instance, all the participants in one group were enrolled in a specialised third level college. Their seemingly contradictory action, going from mainstream to special provision when they all asserted that they wanted mainstream schooling, validates their critique of the mainstream educational process (this will be expanded in the data analysis section).

Endorsement in research literature: One test of the validity of this survey’s findings is the extent to which they harmonise with findings in other studies. Parallels are to be found in academic literature (see review below). Two studies of integration in the Irish setting are specifically relevant to this survey.


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1.2: Literature Review
Societal Perceptions Of Disabled People
Disabled people and their experiences have been largely ignored in academic circles (Oliver, 1990). As a result, disability has been viewed almost exclusively from medical and psychological perspectives (Barton, 1996). Consequently, disability has been defined in terms of functional deficiencies and medicine responds by trying to cure disabled people (Drake, 1996). An individual and tragic view of disability has tended to dominate ‘both social interactions and social policies’ (Oliver, 1990: 3).

Gradually, it was recognised that disability was often experienced in terms of social restriction (Walmsley, 1997). The concept of the ‘disabling environment’ recognises the complex relationship between the disabled individual and his/her environment and the ways in which physical and attitudinal barriers can prevent full participation in society (Finkelstein and Stuart, 1996). This historical experience of exclusion which had often been supported by legislation was vigorously challenged through campaigns by people with disabilities for rights to ‘common and equal citizenship’ (Quinn, 1993).

Disabled people have to contend with a range of public perceptions and attitudes over which they have little control (Tilstone, 1991). The characterisation of disabled people as 'pitiable', 'pathetic', 'invalid', 'helpless', 'dependent' has been evident (Hevey, 1993). The actual reality for individuals is substantially different. Weinberg (1988) discovered that the feelings of disabled people about being disabled did not conform to the common stereotype of disabled people as unhappy and bitter. In fact, the majority had adapted to what was admittedly a difficult situation and their feelings about being disabled ranged along a continuum from bitterness, acceptance to celebration.

Influenced by these disabling images, societal attitudes can represent the greatest obstacle to the full inclusion of disabled people in the community (Forest, 1991). By emphasising what is different about disability and ascribing a dependent role to disabled people these images tend to obscure the common interdependence people experience in their everyday lives (Corbett, 1997). Societal attitudes towards intellectually disabled people have been characterised by confusion, ambiguity and a modicum of good will. Not surprisingly, mainstream pupils exhibit an ambiguity, not dissimilar to their elders, in regard to their disabled counterparts (Lewis, 1995).

Naturally, these difficulties can cause problems in interactions between young people with disabilities and their able-bodied peers. A number of studies have highlighted pupils’ preference for distant rather than intimate contact with their disabled peers (Fichten, 1988, Gash, 1993, Hazzard, 1983). Pupils with disabilities tend to attribute great importance to peer relations which appear to be vital to their self-concept at school (Allodi, 2000). Wade and Moore (1992) indicate that disabled pupils often think that their disabilities render them different from their peers. In addition, they often have to adopt mature strategies to cope with unkindness from their able-bodied peers.

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Integration of Pupils With Disabilities
According to an OECD report (1994) the integration of pupils with disabilities into the mainstream of education has been’ A goal of education for many countries and is a significant trend in almost all OECD countries’ (1994:3). Well developed legal, educational, ethical and psychological arguments have formed the basis of the integration rationale (Peck et al., 1990). Enabling these pupils to participate fully in the educational system constitutes a moral choice for society (Stukat, 1993). However, it is evident that successful integration involves ‘a complex process of social change’ (Snell and Eichner, 1989:127). Integration will not occur spontaneously as part of a natural evolution of positive attitudes towards pupils with disabilities (Booth, 1983). The right to schooling while generally accepted has not been translated into a right to full educational access to all aspects of the curriculum (UNESCO, 1993).

At the school level, integration involves considerable changes in organisational structures, curriculum and teaching methodology (Meijer, 1994). A ‘whole school approach’ is required which recognises that the curricular challenge posed by integration is shared by all teachers (Strangvik, 1997). An essential element in fostering the inclusion of pupils with disabilities involves the preparation of these pupils for functioning in an integrated post-school environment (Gaylord-Ross, 1992). In integrated situations pupils with disabilities can avail of the opportunity to develop the social skills necessary to function productively in the ‘real world’ after school (Sailor, 1991). Furthermore, Murray-Seegert (1989), reported that reciprocal interactions can occur between pupils with disabilities and their able bodied peers when ‘the contact situation resulted in mutual though not necessarily similar benefits’ (1989:89). Mutual benefits include the opportunity for pupils to become each other's 'allies' through participating in group activities which implies pupil interdependence rather than a charity-based, dependency role (Biklen et al., 1989). Thomas et al. (1998) conclude that ensuring the success of peer relationships would be facilitated through the structuring of group work and student partnering to include co-operative group work and peer tutoring.

Research on inclusion within an Irish context has been extremely limited. As a result, it is almost impossible to provide a comprehensive overview of inclusion practices. Systematic link programmes involving pupils from mainstream and special schools have developed despite the parallel nature of mainstream and special educational provision (Shevlin and O’ Moore, 2000). It is more difficult to ascertain the experiences of disabled children within integrated settings. Detailed policy documents have addressed the issue of the resourcing required for integrated provision (SERC, 1993), however, it is evident that the systemic barriers to inclusion have not been radically challenged. As Colgan, (1998) points out no infrastructure exists to support inclusion.

O’Keeffe's study (1997) is one of the few to document the mainstream school careers of people with a sensory disability in Ireland. He used more extensive, less in-depth methods to conduct a national survey of education provision for visually impaired young people: his findings closely echo and are amplified by those of this survey.

Insights developed from mainstream practice led Daly (1999) to hypothesize that the isolation and dispersal of pupils with disabilities throughout the mainstream system, without adequate supports or an understanding of their needs, created a need for a specific pedagogical intervention. An action research study, named SOLAS, piloted the development of this through an internet-based digital network. His study concludes that, in a significant number of cases, mainstream schooling results in a ‘negative educational experience’ (p. 205) for pupils with disabilities. It also identifies the need for an in-depth analysis of the realities of the experiences of these pupils in mainstream classes, in order to gauge levels of inclusion and to reveal the basis from which appropriate responses could be developed. Hence this exploratory survey, to record the hidden voices of such pupils The project in action supported the validity of his original insight. Also, it demonstrated the usefulness of information and communication technologies in addressing these difficulties and releasing students’ learning potential. However, the wider context of the educational system, including its existing values and structures, along with institutional resistance to change, greatly reduces the likelihood of adaptation of the project methodology. Analysis of recent policy documents will tend to support these conclusions.

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Policy in Ireland: Overview
Until the 1970’s and 1980’s in Irish (and international) education policy and practice, children were categorised as either ‘handicapped’ or ‘normal’, and the categories were educated separately. But since then disabilities have been increasingly understood as specific attributes rather than as whole definitions of the person, and provision for all children increasingly envisaged as forming a continuum. The 1990’s has witnessed increased attention to special needs issues as illustrated by the Special Education Review Committee (SERC) Report (1993), the Government White Paper on Education, Charting our Education Future (1996), the Report of the Government Commission on the Status of People with Disabilities, A Strategy for Equality (1996), the Education Act (1998), and the NCCA Discussion Document (1999), Special Educational Needs: Curriculum Issues.

The SERC Report established the concept of a continuum of provision in official policy. But it conceptualises disabilities inadequately, and proposed locational integration non-problematically, underestimating the complexity involved in achieving true inclusion (Colgan, 1994). Despite this reservation, the SERC Report has had a major influence on policy developments.

The White Paper on Education (1995) endorses the main resource provisions recommended in the SERC Report. It recommends that the schools psychological service ‘be progressively expanded to ensure that every student with learning and behavioural difficulties has access to help’ (p. 55). It proposed a policy of positive intervention to allow flexible access to students in accordance with their need (p. 24), and suggested that the NCCA establish curriculum development projects for students with disabilities in mainstream schools (p. 57).

The Report Commission on the Status of People with Disabilities (1993) rejects personal and medical models of disability. It adopts a social model and advocated responses from a ‘civil rights perspective’, recognising that ‘equality is a key principle of the human rights approach’ (p. 8). This highlights the patent inadequacy of the incremental, piecemeal approach that characterised education provision hitherto, and failed to recognise the issue of the fundamental right to education of children with disabilities. The Commission recommended that students with disabilities should be legally entitled to all necessary assistive technology, personal assistance, and forms of therapy, to enable them to access whatever programme is on offer.

The 1998 Education Act provides a statutory basis for legislation, policy and practice in relation to all education provision. The Act provides a level of principled commitment to equity in relation to students with disabilities. However, detailed stipulations relating to students with specific disabilities are not provided. For this a comprehensive body of legislation based on the Act, arising from proceedings in the Dáil and the courts, is required. Perhaps indicative of this need is the fact that no reference is made to adjusted provision for candidates with disabilities in Part VIII (Examinations). It refers to preparation and marking of ‘papers or materials’ (p. 38), but ‘materials’ might simply refer to elements such as experimental or mixed media work.

The Expert Advisory Group on Certificate Examinations reported to the Minister for Education and Science on arrangements for assessment of students with special needs (2000). Principle 3 of the Report states that ‘Special arrangements should not put the integrity, status, or reputation of the examination at risk’. However, in relation to more significant permitted modifications to examination procedures, Principle 12 applies:

When ... elements … have been waived, … or the method of examining has been significantly altered, this should be indicated by the presence of an explanatory note on the candidate's certificate of results (pp. 9-10).

If the integrity of the system has been maintained, there should be no need for qualifying notes on certificates (Daly, 2000); if the changes are such as to interfere with this integrity, the examination should classified as a different procedure. As the authors note, efforts to combine universalistic aims and procedures with measures to meet particular needs ‘inevitably give rise to conflict’ (p. 1). This highlights how the presence of students with disabilities challenges the system ethos.

The NCCA discussion document is an overview of general policy and provision in relation to children with special needs, but with main reference to learning difficulties. It fails to address systemic issues; the deficit model of the child is still in evidence. There is some mention of whole-school approaches, and of pedagogical development but main focus is on the child as having a deficit. Language and concepts are inclusive but it doesn’t fully address implications in terms of curriculum provision and access to it. Access is still considered primarily in terms of content. It opens the door to fuller consideration of all the issues but it is not a definitive document.

In spite of this background, there is a general consensus that the provision for pupils with disabilities is very inadequate, both in the development of structures and actual delivery. Developments have been ad hoc and erratic. The ‘rhetoric-reality gap’ (West and Ainscow, 1991: 90) is enormous and the situation on the ground remains little changed in many cases.

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Section 2: Life and Work in School

2.1: Introduction to Data analysis
Official policy, and parent and child preference, now promote enrolment of students with disabilities in mainstream schools. The experience of participants in this study reveals how complex a process seeking and getting a mainstream education was for them.

The young people who participated in these interview discussions wanted to live and learn among their peers in mainstream second level schools: they wanted normality. So, their preferred discourse was a ‘discourse of normality’: they sought to talk about issues as events on their life path as young people, rather than in disability-related terms. This proved relatively simple in relation to the first topic, how they chose their school: like their peers, they looked at friends’ choices, parents’ preferences, and proximity. But after that choice-of-school step, their discourse of normality was constantly intersected with one of disability. Academic ambitions of necessity drew up issues relating to classroom access, assistive technology, teacher/school perceptions and expectations, and peer relations. In short, others’ perceptions, and system responses to people’s disabilities, intervened.

By far the most of the interview talk was about relationships – about how school staff (Principals, guidance counsellors, and above all, teachers) perceived and dealt with students with disabilities and their parents. This is not surprising: experience of the schooling process - from hearing about or taking part in trips, to being or not being called on to read in class - is substantially mediated through the teacher-student relationship. Here, some insights from Goffman’s analysis of exclusion (1983) are relevant. Exclusion arises from how and why society categorises people. Through social interaction over time, some categories come to be generally recognised as within ‘normal’ range, and some non-conforming categories are defined as ‘other’. Social exchanges can be unthinkingly engaged in, as long as the people involved are ‘normal’. Widely diverse groups who fail the normality test share a common experience of being excluded, discredited. Exclusion depends, not on what exactly is different about the excluded ones, but on the fact that they disturb the majority’s routine, comfortable, ‘normal’ interactions. So, to discuss exclusion (and how to undo it), ‘a language of relationships, not attributes, is really needed’.

Participants talked mainly, not about their performance in any subject, or about their use of assistive technology, but about relationships with teachers, classmates, and other ‘education partners’. And, as is not uncommon, troubles talk was prominent. This was arguably warranted. Some experiences recorded in this survey may not be typical, even of the greater part of a given speakers’ own school experience; but significance cannot be measured thus. Whether or not empowering teachers, or hostile/negative ones, had much actual contact with the speakers, their impact was highly significant for many: they could inspire or defeat a student in relation to far more than their own subject area. But, as will be seen, the majority of teachers, like the generality of society, were well-meaning but forgetful or unthinking, underestimating the depth of isolation and struggle that saturated so much of these students’ school experience.

In participant talk, provider perceptions of and attitudes towards disabilities were inextricably bound up with all facets of ‘school as process’. As noted already, school policy or ethos as such was not discussed, but policy strengths and lacunae can be deduced from discussion of the issues that did arise. Class placement, at entry and through the participants’ school careers, and point-of-exit examinations, bracketed and shaped life in school, and life after. Staff student relations and access to curricular and extra-curricular areas come between these brackets. Discussion of each issue in this section is essentially a discussion of how it was handled by the professionals, and how that was experienced by the students. The two do not necessarily match.

The need for disability awareness, and comprehensive policy and commitment of material and personnel resources to translate it into appropriate, consistent practice, is the crux of the issue, and runs through all sections. ‘Disability awareness’ does not just, or even primarily denote a state of mind on the part of service deliverers – in this case, schools and teachers. It denotes preparedness at all levels of the education system to ensure that people with disabilities can get into, get around and get on (academically and socially) in any education institution - can access their normal entitlements.

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Section Structure
Data analysis has been structured under headings that arose from the data. However, it must be noted that a number of topics intersect in many extracts from participant talk. And the intersection of issues warrants attention in itself.

2.2: Access to school: Entry and mobility issues
Generally speaking, most participants found getting into their second level school of choice relatively simple. Issues relating to their disability were rarely raised at point-of-entry stage. However, school ethos – in the sense of perceptions of and preparedness for inclusion of students with disabilities - made getting around in that school and getting on well in it (academically and socially) far more complex. After enrolment, all proved to be sites of struggle.

Evidence in the data of formal inclusionary school ethos was slight. Positive action occurred mainly in the informal domain; and dominant notes were of kindness and even pity, charity, grace and favour. All speakers encountered school administrators and teachers who wanted to be positive. Most participants had had highly valued empowering interactions with teachers; most also encountered hostility and oversight. In the absence of clearly conceptualised, formally registered policy, positive responses were not guaranteed, and their quality was not always appropriate.

The challenges inherent in transfer from primary to second level and onwards for any student, intersect with specific challenges for those with disabilities. Participants spoke of difficulty getting around in bigger buildings, moving from place to place for different social and academic activities; and about the struggle to engage with class work, using mainly the means designed for the majority. They also spoke about how they had to depend on their friends to help them to get around, and this dependency impinged on relationships with peers.

Mobility in this context refers both to accessing the built environment, and to accessing the curriculum. Needs are on a continuum, from the physical (such as lifts) to the processual (such as help with note taking).

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Choice of school: getting into ‘the school around the corner’
To explain their choice of secondary school, participants cited the same criteria as nearly all young people do – friends’ choices, parental preference, proximity, and academic standards. Where subject choice was cited, disability-related issues came to the fore.

Most of my friends were going to that secondary school.

X is known to be one of the best schools. That’s how I got stuck in there basically!

It was nice being with the normal crowd. It was just around the corner and I liked it and I put my name down, that’s how I got to go there.

I thought it was a good school, it catered for disabled people and it had two resource teachers and if you needed help with any subject they’d give you special tuition on a one to basis.

As illustrated in the last quotation, when choice was linked to academic issues this reference was usually paired with reference to disability. But dominant perceptions of disability could then intervene, to inhibit the struggle to maintain a discourse of normality:

I was going to go to the carry on [second–level school] from primary, but the head mistress wouldn’t allow me to do home economics because I might spill something on someone, or biology because it was on the top floor. So I instantly removed myself from that school and went to another that would allow me to do the subjects I wanted.

This child’s ambitions (and her parents’ vision for her) collided with perceptions of her in the ‘follow-on school’, where she found herself categorised entirely in terms of her disability. No one else mentioned point-of-entry barriers of this type, but as will be seen, many encountered them within the school.

At this stage also, it emerges that access was not simply a physical question; and even in its most physical aspects, it was shaped by policy, perceptions and relationships. So, school ethos sets the stage for the remainder of the report.

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School ethos
In the next extract the speaker’s comments reveal the close, problematic links between generalised kindness and ‘pity, which she found horrible’. It is not clear whether she was talking only about students, or about teachers’ reactions as well, but the key issue informing her comments stands, regardless - the responses she found problematic were bracketed between weak policy and strong habit in that school:

People of authority like the Principal, would always ask me how I was … or if I needed a lift home or things like that but it was - like if a person with a disability came to the school ‘oh look at that person’ … It was horrible. Everyone was kind of saying ‘oh the little girl she’s deadly’ - too much emphasis on her. There hadn’t been enough people with disabilities integrating with people without disabilities.

This speaker appreciated the Principal’s kindness, but when she had ‘a big problem’ she would send an able-bodied friend to do the asking (many participants found asking for help difficult: see below). So, a ‘benefactor’ may act with what s/he feels to be the kindest of intentions, but it may be experienced differently. When that benefactor is the system administrator, it indicates inadequately conceptualised policy – and the ‘horrible’ gaze inflicted on ‘that person’ with a disability is an indicator of a policy vacuum. Challenge comes, as this speaker said, from having ‘enough people with disabilities integrating’. Comments on people’s knowledge and ignorance about disabilities were threaded through all the interviews.

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Mobility: getting around in the learning environment

Participants spoke positively about primary schools, identifying perhaps the key factor in enabling holistic support at this level - simplicity:

The primary was very simple. Secondary school was more awkward.

Their illustrations of this supportive environment are indicative of a sensitive element in their struggle for normality – many people with disabilities must bring their personal needs into the public domain:

It was a very old school and our parish priest got a ramp put in. If I wanted to go to the toilet, the cubicles were very small; I had to go to the teachers’ room. They knew and I had someone outside the door just in case they’d come. It wasn’t too bad

The primary school I went to was very good; the teachers were excellent to me. They put in a special wheelchair toilet for me you know? And some of them went so far as – taking me to the toilet. Which was very good of them like you know?

Flexibility in the built environment is possible, and promoted access to activities. It is clear in this excerpt and in many that follow, that access to the built environment and to the academic process were often almost synonymous:

There were girls in wheelchairs and they got round easily and everything was at a level where they could do everything.

However, in participants’ experience, most schools were bound by convention. The first speaker, when asked who had blocked her curriculum access, clearly located the problem at systemic level:

I did Home Economics for my Junior and Leaving Cert. … Myself and my teacher wanted a low accessible kitchen unit for me but they wouldn’t give it. (Q: Who?) The architects and the government ... the Principal.

They could have made things more wheelchair height, it’s obvious.

One’s ability to get around intersected, not alone with access to academic options, but also with social interactions:

If a class was downstairs, no problem. But stairs, there’d be a problem. Prefabs were a big problem, big steps into them, I had to be lifted. If my friends weren’t around I wouldn’t get there. I wouldn’t go to the class.

Participants ‘had to fight’: had to keep the system constantly reminded of what they needed – though often the reminders went unnoticed:

There were glass fire doors, I couldn’t open them. I went to the Principal, I went to everyone and they did nothing. … If I wanted to go to the bathroom during class, or if I was carrying something for art, it was a long way. There were really steep ramps and twice I fell. I’d have to wait for someone to help me. But you get used to it after a while.

You had to fight. One girl had spina bifida. She couldn’t handle the crowds; there were 1200 in the school. She left.

I had to go up four flights of stairs to get to my classroom and I had to come down before the rest. If I came down at the same time as them they’d just push; they basically knocked me down one flight of stairs.

Lacking reliable access to technical or personal assistance, students with disabilities often had to get help from whoever was around – usually a classmate. In their descriptions of relations with helpful, inclusive peers, dependency and gratitude are evident:

If I had a class upstairs I’d wait at the end of the stairs. They’d physically lift me, my friends. My friends were excellent.

The next speaker’s difficulty with asking for help is an indicator of how issues intersected in participants’ experience. Achieving mobility in the absence of appropriate aids impacted on relations with peers and teachers:

It was kind of difficult just to get around. And asking for help, I found that difficult. I didn’t like asking the same person all the time ... Some people would make a fuss over me and others wouldn’t think – it was a mixture of reactions.

So, asking for help required courage, and often triggered problematic responses.

Finally, ‘access’ was a constituent factor in a very wide range of situations, from major physical dilemmas such as managing stairs, to non-physical processes involved in desk work. The same pattern emerged often, of exclusion arising from lack of supports, and inclusion being only possible through friendly help. And in the following extract, the helpful peer is an example of respectful discretion:

She took the notes and I copied them. It was never discussed, it just happened. She was everything to me; she was a brilliant, brilliant friend.

She felt she could not turn to any others in her class:

I wouldn’t ask for help. You might not be actually told you’re stupid, but you’re getting the hidden messages so you’re not going to go ‘I’m stupid can I have help?’. Like writing down homework from the blackboard was a nightmare for me - I always went home with half sentences or with the same sentence down three times.

The next two comments made in relation to third level equally apply to large second-level schools. As buildings and operations become more complex, so do issues relating to mobility:

People don’t realise that the small things make a lot of difference - even a simple handrail. You would have to be feeling your way up the wall.

Just being able to get around, carrying books - simple things. Getting to a lecture in time just makes a difference. Activities were so far away; I seemed to be spending half the time travelling. I was just too tired.

As will be seen, empowering teachers often facilitated access by simple strategies also, such as photocopying notes.

In short, getting into the school in the sense of enrolling was simple, but getting around was problematic. As will be seen in the next section, getting on, doing as well as one could, was even more so.

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2.3: Setting the context for academic progress
Class placement is a crucial issue for all students, especially if streaming rather than mixed ability classes predominates. Placement is both a point-of-entry identification, and an ongoing a process as students move up and down the performance ratings, sometimes changing streams as a result, but perhaps more often leading to revised teachers’ expectations in relation to day-to-day work and examination performance. In the participants’ experience, factors affecting placement were: flexibility in school policy on placement, and perceptions of the needs and potential of students with disabilities. Fragmented school attendance due to illness or hospitalisation could also substantially affect placement. Struggle in any of these areas could involve teachers, parents and students. Participants found that not only their placement, but also what was asked of them in class work, were heavily influenced by teachers’ expectations.

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Class Placement: Flexibility
The next speaker had attended a school noted for its rigorous academic standards and practised streaming, but it was also flexible:

[I was placed in] the A class, though I studied pass maths and Irish. I only did History and Geography [exams] at pass level but I was studying at honours level, it was kind of honours/pass for me. For homework I didn’t do as much detail as people doing honours.

He took courses at his comprehension level, while he did homework and took examinations at his performance level (given the available assistive provision. With more appropriate assistance, his performance might have matched his comprehension more closely). The school had opened up opportunities for him as much as it could within the constraints of the time; and he was fully satisfied with his social and academic experience and examination performance there

I was happy out like, I didn’t ask to be treated special and I wasn’t.

So, flexibility was normal in this streamed, high-achieving school. However, many participants had very different experiences.

In many schools that practised streaming, placement appropriate to abilities could be a fading, albeit accepted, dream for the student with a disability who, though still keen to learn, had to join others who had already accepted defeat and follow programmes below his/her ability level:

I was in the second lowest class. I stuck that for three weeks and I said I’m not staying here, they were giving me real basic stuff …. A lot of my class left [school]. They weren’t interested basically.

Discussion of access to studying Irish exemplifies the importance of the ‘discourse of normality’. Students with certain disabilities are exempted from studying Irish, and some types of special primary schools are exempted from teaching it. Two participants mentioned not being allowed to learn Irish. Perhaps the school or teachers exempted them, not alone on the basis of point-of-entry assessment, but also out of kindness, to remove a possible failure from an already stressed life; but the exempted ones did not see this, or welcome the escape. To them this was deprivation (one said ‘it was taken away from me’) because everyone else had to study Irish – it was normal to do it.

And exemption had consequences: it depressed the next speaker’s placement options:

In the entrance exam they gave me everything except Irish. If they’d given me Irish I would have been in a higher class. I was supposed to have been in a higher class.

He studied Irish with his family’s help and took the examination anyway, because ‘everybody else was doing it’. His exemption may have been warranted at point of entry, but his subsequent performance indicates that a revision was called for.

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Class Placement: Fragmentation
Placement ‘slippage’ can happen due to illness or hospitalisation, as with the next speaker, who was out of touch with her school:

I was in hospital for six months. I had a teacher for an hour a morning. I just brought my books, told her what I was doing, and we went on from there. One teacher [from school] used come to see me. It wasn’t on a teacher basis. I was just told forget it and get better and come back to school. Then they gave me a bit of help alright. [If I could have kept up in hospital] I’d have been in a higher level, yes; I wouldn’t have stayed in the class I was in for love death nor money.

Inter-school or other distance learning linkages to enable absentees to keep up were not available to any speaker whose health requirements entailed missing school.

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Expectations
People with disabilities are often referred to as ‘the disabled’. Many participants had experienced this global categorisation (taking one facet of the person – his/her disability – as defining the whole person). This speaker neatly identified it:

As regards P. E. they saw you as a disability.

Perhaps he meant to say ‘liability’ but, slip of the tongue or not, this statement warrants attention in both formats. He felt that to the P.E. teacher (and others - staff, Principal, management?) he did not have a disability or pose a liability, but was one or other.

The next speakers confronted global categorisation successfully:

[The teacher] told me I wasn’t suitable for the higher class. But I got into it and I got a B1. She just assumed that because I had the disability I should be in the lower class.

The next extract shows how denial of disability can be the obverse of total focus on it, and both are exclusionary in that they do not address the student with a disability as a whole person:

My PE teacher wouldn’t believe me if I were in pain or whatever. She tried to force me to do stuff I couldn’t do, she thought I was just lazy. Then in Fourth Year when I actually wanted to take part, it was ‘you can’t do this, you can’t do that’. So I had a fair few problems with her.

This experience of globalisation was not limited to subject areas in which physical activity was central. Participants felt that some teachers conflated physical, sensory and learning disabilities, and expected less of anyone with a disability. Whether they did this out of hostility or pity, it was read as dismissal, as writing off the person concerned:

There was an attitude that if you have something wrong with you, you don’t have to reach the same standards others do.

This teacher practically said ‘you won’t go anywhere, you won’t get a good job, you won’t get anything cause you haven’t good English’. That was some hell of a year with her. Practically all the time I put up my hand to answer questions, she never came to me.

The attitude was ‘if you’re dyslexic you won’t be going anywhere so let’s not bother’

Hostility was perceived even where it may not have been intended, in teachers who overlooked students with disabilities, as if they were ‘going nowhere’. But one speaker experienced overt antagonism: he said he was almost assaulted by a teacher. The teacher had a poor reputation and he himself not ‘an angel’; but the event came across to him as disability-related. He perceived being passed over as expressing strong teacher hostility, contempt for his personal status:

I was basically ignored by some of the teachers. I wasn’t asked questions; if I put up my hand they’d just look at me and, ask someone else. Kind of, ‘what’s he up to now?’. So you’re only killing time.

When it came to results, in homework (see above), tests or examinations, school and teacher attitudes also entered the frame. The speaker just quoted also found that her performance was not challenged where that of able-bodied students would be:

If I got bad results in the exams it was try better next time ... if anyone else got a bad result there was an ‘in-depth’.

It could be said that she sought the right to risk failing – as perhaps did the student who studied Irish independently (see above) – and to be challenged as forcibly as her able-bodied peers. In many of the above instances, it is possible that where the school or teacher acted out of kindness and consideration for a disability; it was experienced as an under-estimate, even dismissal of the person.

Participants spoke highly of teachers who empowered them, who saw past their disabilities to the whole person, who encouraged them to take risks:

One teacher kept driving me the whole way. Kind of ‘put it in a context, fair enough you have a disability but - throw it away from you and continue on’ like. From that day on I’ve never looked back. It was the best thing ever that, to stand up for ourselves.

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2.4: Accessing the School Programme

Teaching Practice and Student Performance
This Chapter deals with curriculum programmes and extra curricular activities. For participants, access to these was partly shaped by teachers’ expectations (see above). Participants also encountered difficulties arising from classroom management, teaching methods, and the availability or absence of supports, such as classroom assistants and assistive technology.

Participants experienced programme delivery, as mediated to them through teachers. In the absence of systemic provision for inclusion, their experience was heavily dependent on teacher expectations and practice. Good experiences, because they were generated mostly in the informal domain, were not guaranteed – it depended on the capacity of local schools and individual teachers to maintain good practice.

In the following sections, participants talk about how they perceived teachers’ practice and their own performance, firstly in relation to interactive processes involving reading, writing, and oral work; and secondly, in relation to more physically involving curriculum areas, requiring laboratory work and physical activities. Experience of extra-curricular activities followed a similar pattern.

The totality of participants’ experience in school culminates in their experience of taking examinations. Difficulties here mirror those they encountered earlier. And their achievement in examinations, combined with the way schools prepared them to make career choices, were important factors in setting the stage for their post-school careers.

Schools and teachers faced a double challenge: to meet participants’ need to be included, while also meeting their individual needs and potential. This challenge, noted here, will be taken up more fully in the Conclusion.

Parents were involved in many cases, drawn into their child’s social and academic struggles, both at home and in school.

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Teaching Practice
Teachers, in their classroom interactions with students with disabilities, could empower, comfort, or defeat those students.
Empowerment, kindness, and oversight in the classroom
Empowering support need not be ‘tough love’. This speaker experienced precisely targeted, empowering kindness:

I never had a problem with a teacher, they were all real nice …They knew I couldn’t write fast and they encouraged me to use the typewriter, but it was too big to carry around so I didn’t. When I went into the senior cycle they gave me a personal assistant. He took out the books and wrote down notes; he was just real nice.

‘Real nice’ teachers accepted a student’s disability as no more or less than itself, and worked with or around it. They found ways to involve the student with a disability: (from written submission)

some did their best to accommodate you with notes and extra time for essays to be handed up.

The term ‘accommodate’ is significant. Positive teacher responses occurred mainly in the informal domain, tacked on to the relatively fixed status quo (they could be read as disturbances of system order). A participant with dyslexia reported how:

a few teachers took me aside and went through things with me. But we had to work in the canteen; there was nowhere else. Classmates were astonished at me - spending time with a teacher! If they knew what they were talking about they’d know I needed the extra help.

The relatively private nature of these teachers’ support notwithstanding, it was treasured because it built up the student’s skills, self worth and ambition.

In the above incidents, teachers empowered their students. However, positive responses shaded off into generalised kindness and from that into pity. Pity may feel like kindness, but it can open the door to low standards and expectations, whether the ‘object’, the student, accepted it or was amused by it:

If I didn’t do my homework they wouldn’t really mind.

Another teacher was nice. In class like he said to the boys one day, ‘let him sleep away’ like. I wasn’t asleep at all haha!

Like any adolescents, these speakers had enjoyed, but did not respect, the chance of an easy life and a joke. This ‘nice’ teachers’ pity was not empowering.

The obverse of pity, chronic oversight, was also problematic. The next speaker had severe hearing loss; yet:

Some [teachers], if you asked them to repeat they ‘d think you were taking the piss and they’d start giving out to you. It was so annoying… but they’ve been teaching for years and they’re going to stay the way they are.

He gave up reminding these teachers of his needs.

The following interaction illustrates range of responses in classroom practice. The first speaker’s difficulty (deafness) was recognised and the teacher was probably being ‘kind’. The second speaker’s dyslexia was not recognised, and the teacher insisted she was lazy. The third speaker’s teacher globalised her disability label:

S1 I wanted to read. I didn’t want to be left out, I wanted to be part of it but he went like ‘you-you-you’, and skipped me.

S2 I’d have loved to be in your shoes. I hopped through seats all through the class if they were doing line reading, when they were coming close to me. I always had a cold a flu a sore throat.

S3 I got skipped as well definitely for some subjects. This teacher told the rest I should go into lower pass. I went to the headmistress and said I wanted to go into the other class, and she said yes. Then the teacher I didn’t want to go to gave out hell to me. She said I was opening a can of worms, and how dare I not want to go into her class.

In the last extract above, the teacher is reported as switching her frame of reference: overruled in her assumption that this student had a learning disability, she resorted to condemning her for threatening the system order – ‘opening a can of worms’ (the teacher went on to say that if everyone could switch classes there would be chaos). Seemingly, status quo took precedence over freeing the child’s potential. The issue of system order is of particular interest in relation to good teachers, and it will be returned to in the general analysis.

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Laboratory work and physical activities

Students: watchers and actors
As has been seen, students with disabilities can become effective audiences to others’ endeavours in any curricular domain. But difficulties in accessing the curriculum were often particularly remarkable for participants in subject areas that required laboratory work and/or physical activity – in particular, Science and Home Economics, Physical Education. The domain of extra-curricular activities was also substantially reliant on capacity for physical involvement. Insurance cover issues did constrain schools, but as with the rest of school activities, the key issue was one of how the professionals engaged with the student and his/her needs and potential. However, comment in these areas focussed more on the range of permitted student performance.

Even where locational integration was achieved in the sense that the student with a disability got into the Home Economics room, custom and oversight meant that s/he was often audience to others’ involvement:

In science, using things on the bench, I just sat down and watched.

But some teachers/schools were empowering: they saw past the disability, and encouraged or allowed the student to deal with carelessness or to bypass her/his specific difficulty:

Doing science … I nearly burnt my hands a few times. I was allowed to again but I kept my eyes open more

We’d pair up, and my partner used to do all the physical work. I just couldn’t do it; I couldn’t hold a glass of water.

Other responses ranged from exclusion, to neutrality, to informal encouragement, to systemic provision to promote inclusion.

I think most of us were excluded especially in sports - the school wasn’t equipped to cope. They tried, but the majority of times you had to stay out.

It was up to myself whether I wanted to do [the activities] or not.

I wasn’t excluded from any sports. Actually they pushed me into things more than taking me out –‘you are going into this, no questions asked!’.

I’m involved in sport myself. If they were playing soccer or whatever I’d referee or something like that. No problem, I used love it.

The dominant order can seem natural, even invisible, even to a student with a disability:

The P. E. teacher let me watch. There was no discrimination. [Q: Did they include exercises suited to you?] Oh no, no. But he was very good.

During discussion in the second interview, some issues became visible for this speaker:

That’s interesting … The nearest I got was inside the hall … He could have let me referee, there’s nothing wrong with my mouth.

So, school custom and practice could seem immutable, not just to able-bodied professionals, but also to the very students who were disadvantaged by system rigidity.

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Extra curricular activities
Participation in extra curricular activities was not guaranteed; the same wide variation in system responses pertained. Some schools were positively prepared:

I went on a lot of trips. The other students had to make their own way; we got transport no problem from school. Everybody had to do the school musical. I found I actually enjoyed it and it was one of the things I could be involved in. Then in transition year there were a lot of activities like swimming and trips, they wouldn’t let me do for insurance reasons. I was excluded from my groups as far as going out with the class - I think they were nearly afraid I would hurt myself.

Perhaps these schools had checked and found it did not have the resources to meet insurance requirements; perhaps insurance difficulties were presumed. Some speakers felt they were left out, simply because nobody thought of them:

They didn’t make an effort to think about it when it came to trips. Most times we couldn’t go.

Paradoxically, some felt uncomfortably central in a process of exclusion, and their fragile hold on involvement in school activities impacted on the formation of social bonds with their peer group.

I would listen to them when they came back – ‘you missed a great couple of days we’d great fun’. Even sitting beside them hearing them laughing, it was laughing at something you didn’t understand. I didn’t like that.

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Inclusion and differentiation: the challenge to schools.
In relation to curricular and extra-curricular programmes offered, the school is faced with a challenge – how to differentiate the programme, while giving students with disabilities the experience of feeling treated as one of the crowd:

One to one would help [in PE] but then you’re putting emphasis on I’m different. That’s a no-no. Physically you are different but otherwise you’re not.

The challenge is perhaps less obvious, but is essentially the same, in areas that put less stress on physical capabilities.

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Parental involvement
Participants’ struggle with education was often nested in their parents’ effort to support them. Parent-teacher relations, parent-child relations, and life at home were affected:

What I think, what I speak is different to what I write, and that means difference in my grades and everything. For years my teachers told my parents I wasn’t concentrating, wasn’t trying hard enough. And even though I was, and my parents spent hours in the evening trying to help me but it just wouldn’t work, the teachers just assumed something else.

What are short tasks for most children could take hours for a child with a disability. This could cause parent-teacher conflict, particularly where the disability was not diagnosed or recognised. The child was caught in the middle:

In primary school you were talking three or four hours homework. Mum would go and say ‘look, she’s nine years of age, I’ll give her an hour and whatever she doesn’t gets done...’. That was fine to mum’s face, but when you were in class it was a different story.

The struggle could continue through primary and on into second level:

Mum picked up that I had a problem in high infants, and when she went she was told she was just being an over concerned parent, that I just had a lack of concentration and was lazy. All the way through I was told that. It makes me angry that when I was diagnosed a teacher told me I was stupid I was just slow, and that I would want to stop using it as an excuse. So there is a lot of ignorance.

This speaker’s mother invested heavily in trying to change things:

I was lucky my mum cared. She brought my report around; she got a video, offered it to all the teachers explaining about dyslexia but none of the teachers actually took it. She really hammered it home.

But parent and child could differ in their assessments of the child’s potential, or capacity to cope with the strain involved in keeping up the struggle. Parents were perhaps too ready to think positively about achievements:

I wanted higher marks. My mother was ecstatic but I was very upset. I was pleased with my English but not generally.

Besides, they did not want to put too much pressure on their child:

She never made me study; it was just me not able to get through because people were fighting with me, fighting, fighting. You just felt tired.

In extra-curricular activities, as with academic activities, parental involvement, over-protective or encouraging, played a part:

There were a lot of trips away and my parents are very protective overly protective so of course I wasn't allowed to go on any of them.

I'm actually the other way around - my mother is overly protective but - I think it has to do with my father. He had to do a lot of travelling, I went on everything.

A note on the divergence between participants’ perceptions of parent and teacher attitudes is warranted. Inhibiting parents were seen as over-protective, while inhibiting schools or teachers were usually seen as forgetful or dismissive. Some teachers were overtly hostile and dismissive; many were blinkered and under-estimated participants’ needs and potential. But it is possible that other factors predisposed participants to divergent perceptions. There is the gap between the intimate home and the formal school setting. Also, as is clear from the data, for participants the school was a site of exclusion and isolation. These factors could colour perception, so that teacher reactions which may have been unconscious were read as intentional. But whatever the reason for or validity of participants’ perceptions, they must be attended to if the system is to deliver effectively.

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Outcomes: achievement/examinations; career preparation
Special examination provision for students with disabilities exemplifies the incremental approach to addressing special needs. Adaptations permitted some degree of access, but did not level the playing pitch.

For some students, even accessing available examination supports was a highly uncertain, insecure process:

(from written submission) exams were a nightmare, no extra time and not a word about assistive technology, unlike my college now.

I wouldn’t have got any help in the Junior Cert. but my Principal looked into certain things for me. The rest of the teachers were kind of, maybe she’s making it up.

Perhaps the Principal’s style in drawing down the officially provided examination adaptations suggested that he was acting in the informal, grace and favour domain; perhaps for this student the procedure was coloured by the general staff scepticism - a scepticism that echoes the note of suspicion another student heard in official responses to applications:

For my Junior Cert no, but for my Leaving Cert I did have a problem. They asked questions like why did I have [extra time] for the Junior Cert, why did I need it for my Leaving Cert.

Adaptations, when accessed, proved cumbersome, and awesome for some speakers.

For things like biology it was dodgy because I had a different image of how things are drawn, and I had to have somebody to draw them for me. I love biology, but because of the honours level requirements I ended up panicking and doing the ordinary level. I didn’t feel that I could achieve what they wanted me to achieve.

Perhaps accurate transmission of one’s inner concepts via another is a dream; but others also found the level and range of supports on offer inadequate, and the stresses involved in their adoption underestimated. The system blocked effective use of adaptations, by not providing an effective delivery context:

I don’t want to say it was the school’s fault. I did my exam by recorder. For the mocks I had two days to practice, for the exam less than a week. You have to practice to set your mind to speak rather than write, and the mocks were a disaster. The Leaving Cert was nearly a hash job, but I was determined not to repeat so I got the hang of it after a few days. I needed more time to get used to it.

More generally shared factors, such as stress tolerance, could also intersect with disability-related issues, such as the impact of substantial periods of hospitalisation on a student’s preparedness:

I couldn’t [do the full Leaving Cert] - I was sick for six months before it, and I wouldn’t be very good under pressure as well. I wanted to do the Applied Leaving anyway.

Fortunately the subjects offered in the Applied programme suited her career training aims. However, others with similar histories might want broader options; to keep them open would require effective links between schools and hospital tuition systems.

However, school success is measured by more than examinations. ‘Fitting in’ can be as important as achieving academically, and can devour huge amounts of energy, with obvious implications for achievement:

I had a difficult time when I started because I was older than them. I was trying my best to fit in with them, and so I didn’t get a chance to focus on what I was doing. I did pretty well at first, but by the time I was in Third Year, because I had gone through an awful lot emotional stuff too in my own life, it affected how it came out when I finally got to the exam. I know I could have done better.

Again, this exemplifies how all facets of school experience and personal issues intersect. That in turn points to the need to view school adaptation as a complex systemic process, starting with awareness and vision.

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Career preparation
Career guidance was an area particularly sensitive to clashes between disability-focused teacher perceptions, and student hopes. Some schools were unaware of relevant provision issues – a very deeply felt issue for this speaker:

I think it’s mainly the Department. On the CEO forms there are sections for categories, which can help you get into college. There’s a box for disability. It isn’t highlighted at all! They should employ someone to go round to the schools, tell people. ‘Twas only by accident I found out about it. I’d left secondary school three years, I did an NCVA course, just repeating the Leaving, and I was working for a year. I went back to the career guidance teacher and - they had never dealt with this!

The career guidance teacher seems to have been badly informed, and this school leaver paid dearly. He blames poor information dissemination throughout the system.

One participant (who contributed to this survey by e-mail) said that school had ‘in no way’ prepared him for the world of work. The guidance teacher ‘just said do a desk job, which I am not doing now’. Instead, he opted for mainstream third level education. Another, who also went to third level, was advised to get a job with the Council.

But some guidance counsellors ranked among the excellent teachers. One such certainly empowered the next speaker, whose spirit had been crushed by school and teacher responses to her undiagnosed dyslexia:

I had two brilliant teachers, the career guidance and the history teacher. One fought for the special considerations for me for the Leaving Cert … I got into college through writing letters to them for three years. I didn’t even get the points, I got it on pure annoying them too much - I think they were afraid to say no! … [The career guidance teacher] wrote to the Department of Education for three years. I stuck with the colleges, he stuck with the Department…He was an angel.

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Section 3: Life and Work Outside School

3.1: Post-school choices
On leaving second level to enter the ‘real world’ of adult life, participants went to third level education, or into special education and training provision, or to work. Many participants found mainstream third level colleges welcoming and empowering, but for some, the challenge of the built environment and pace of work was too much. Those that opted for specialised provision found ‘a level playing pitch’; they could work at their own pace, with access to all necessary supports. At least as important to them, they could reflect on disability-related issues.

To those who had tried to enter it, experience in the wider world of work revealed that the difficulties they had encountered in their school lives were rooted in wider societal perceptions and practice – ‘teachers and employers, peas in a pod’.

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Mainstream: third level
Those who could manage mainstream third level were in the minority. As noted above, each ensuing level in education provision is more complex in every way than the previous one. But attitudinally, things could go the opposite way. Pressure on students to conform, to ‘march in step’ lessened, perhaps because student-lecturer relationship styles in third level are more adult:

In college it’s a lot easier because the professors are more open. In school it’s I’m the teacher, you’re the student, sit down. You learn in college it’s more a two-way kind of thing, it’s a lot easier there for that reason alone nearly. I suppose the secondary school experience was very good but I wouldn’t go back.

(written submission) [Q did school prepare you for work/college?] Not at all, it was just a means of getting into college where you are treated like everyone else.

However, a student who went from special primary to mainstream second level school, tried to continue this path into third level, but:

The pace was way too fast for me. I was afraid to stay there. They got me a left-handed keyboard, that’s how much they really wanted to help me. But I was scared, I was going through so much at the time myself that I felt I wouldn’t be able to give it my best shot … I said to them it had more to do with motivation. It had nothing to do with motivation, it had more to do with the fact that if I’d stayed I’d have come out with nothing. And I didn’t want that for myself after going through that. I would like to go back eventually.

There is far more investment in assistive technology at third level, but for this speaker at least, the built environment and the pace defeated the process. And it should be noted that while she was so generously offered pieces of expensive electronic equipment, some of the aids whose absence defeated her were ‘simple things like hand rails’.

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Specialised provision: third level and further education
It was not within the remit of this study to identify the proportion of people with disabilities who enter special provision in young adulthood: that would require a National survey. This study did, however, reveal significant issues. All the participants were fully convinced of the correctness of mainstream school placement for them; when asked if they missed the support of disabled peers in school, nobody was particularly concerned. However, those who had chosen special third level or further education provision welcomed the comfort of common experience, and the chance to learn more about their most burning issues:

I’m enjoying [this NCVA course] because I’m with disabled people like myself. I don’t mind going into mainstream, but working with disabled people, you’re at the same level.

Here you get a mixture, everybody accepts you and you learn about different disabilities.

However, disquiet with separateness is eloquently expressed in the next extract, and the speaker’s comment pinpoints the essentially ethical concern that generated her disquiet:

If one of my friends walked in here they would be frightened to talk to someone and that is horrible to say, I think… They would be frightened of the unknown really, like I was when I first got sick.

One speaker in this group had gone from a special primary school to mainstream second level, and on to mainstream third level but had found the pace too fast there (see above). Her choice of specialised third level provision was strategic, and she intended to try what she called the ‘real world’ again. Her words about why she opted for mainstream second level school have application, even to her own situation as she spoke:

I felt I was in special schools most of my life, and that if I experienced [only that] I would have forgotten about the able bodied world. It is just as tough for them as it is for me to cope with things as there is a lot more expected of them, and you tend to forget this when you are in this so-called disabled world. I just needed to know what it felt like to be at the same pace as everybody else.

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The World of Work
Only two participants spoke about looking for employment; they both had almost given up on finding jobs through the usual channels, and had come to rely on personal contacts in various businesses. In the world of work they met the same ignorance and globalising categorisations on the part of employers, and powerlessness on the part of the applicant with a disability.

Teachers who are very uneducated in some matters – it can be like that outside when you want to get a job. They look, if you’ve a disability you’re not capable of doing the job and therefore you’re not going to get the job. Even though you’re very capable of it. They say something like insurance won’t cover - I hate that phrase! It’s simple: if you’ve a physical disability you must have a mental disability. Teachers and employers, they’re like peas in a pod.

How pity warrants exclusion, and how images of empowering models are censored lest they challenge this, is clear in the next speaker’s angry summary:

When they get the CV they have this image of someone sort of normal coming in. When you come in with wheel chairs, as we well know from experience in loads of different areas, they sort of say ‘listen, we don’t really have the resources for you or the funding’. I think it’s really bad - our country says we are democratic. But why are people with disabilities shunned away from our own society? In other countries like this famous scientist who is a physicist – he’s well able to speak through an assistant. But here it’s ‘God love them’.

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3.2: Socialising, in and out of school
Analysis in this study has focussed on participant’s perceptions of teachers, schools, and school programmes. Their post-school experience served substantially to validate their insights into their school struggles.

This Chapter opens with a return to participants’ school experience, because their initiation into socialising with their peers took place substantially in that context. Everything said about school experience can be read in terms of how the speakers processed it; but they also spoke specifically about how the experience affected their sense of self. In interviews, the closer the speaker was to the ‘other’, the narrower the gap between talk about the other and talk about self. Talk about peers is the most intertwined with self-talk.

In interactions with their peers, participants often found that their disability took centre stage and skewed the relationship. In a situation where they just wanted to be normal and get on with social and academic life, participants found they had to set the able bodied at ease vis-ŕ-vis their disability; and when they had to ask for help, they found they had to draw attention to their disability and risk pitying or other problematic reactions (see above). The discussion ranged from developing coping strategies to deal with their peers’ reaction to them, to their dependency on peers to get around school, and their feelings on this dependency, and finally on their coping strategies to ensure a social life for themselves.

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Introducing one’s self
People with disabilities must often take the initiative in allaying social discomfort:

When I first went to primary school people were in awe of me, but after - I wouldn’t say I fitted in like a jigsaw piece, people got used to me. Young kids didn’t know how to go up to me. I’d say ‘don’t be afraid to come over to me’ or something. In secondary school people were older so they kind of knew how. I just ignored the whispers. Now if anybody says over my head ‘oh God is he ok?’ I might say smartly ‘oh yea he’s fine’, or just look back at them.

However, like the teachers, able-bodied peers did not ‘know’:

They didn’t understand the issues really, they were supporting me because they were my class - it was more sticking together.

A lad in my class.. said ‘being sick wouldn’t have anything to do with your brain’ and I said I think it might. He didn’t realise what is wrong with me, which is hard to cope with in some ways. I feel I have to put it out in the open when I see people.

Some students get the idea that if you have a physical disability you also have a mental disability.

It was unreal the slagging and it can be at disabled people. They’re just doing it for a joke; they don’t know what the person feels.

The next speaker’s life history enabled her to see the issue from both sides, and identify the root cause – people with disabilities have been hidden away:

If one of my [able-bodied] friends walked in here they would be frightened to talk to someone and that is horrible to say, I think… They would be frightened of the unknown really, like I was when I first got sick.

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Belonging and isolation
In some participants’ talk, being wanted closely intersected with being ‘included’, not discriminated against. The note of kindness dominates, and easily shades off into pity:

The class were very good to me, I wasn’t discriminated against by any of them, all of them included me. Even to this day I can meet any of them and it’s ‘how are you, how are things?’

I was out for most of fifth year and I actually won student of the year, voted by the students. I always thought it was out of pity and they were only trying to be nice. But when you actually think about it, it was kind of … funny.

Whether because of the disability or because of its impact on performance, a person’s social connections could be fragile:

I have a very select few friends. It takes me a long time before I’d trust them with certain aspects of my life, and I think the fact that I couldn’t do as much as other people meant I was excluded from going out with the class - I think they were nearly afraid I would hurt myself.

Especially after Fourth Year people started splitting up into gangs. I think it’s part of growing up - people start getting selective about who they are going to hang around with. I was never selective; I was always hanging around with them one time, them another. I don’t know what got me down I think it was because I didn’t know who my real friends were. I always went to them to talk, they didn’t come to me.

I didn’t get involved at all in anything because I was always trying to survive. Get through school. I suppose confidence-wise I just dropped because of the general attitude. I went into a world of my own and I didn’t bother, I couldn’t mix with people I couldn’t.

Fitting in socially generated specific dilemmas for a student who transferred from special schools to mainstream:

I didn’t go until I was sixteen … It was scary. You‘ve been taken care of for a long time and then all of a sudden you’re faced with all the realities you heard about but never actually dealt with yourself. And even though I was sixteen I was like a thirteen year old going in, because I didn’t know. Like I was told by a Sixth Year to mind a packet of cigarettes, and I was kind of going in my head - I know I should and I know I shouldn’t. In the end I was so scared I told, and people kept saying ‘you know you’re not going to make friends doing that!’

For this last speaker, social life were transformed by diagnosis of the learning difficulty:

Developing and maintaining a social life was not easy: parental protectiveness in relation to trips, and their child’s desire to join the gang in their socialising, to live a normal teenage life:

I had very protective parents and wasn’t allowed out at night, so the stress was there to be the same as everyone else as well.

Participants often found themselves engaged in struggle around issues relating to their disabilities - with the school system, with teachers, with their parents and peers. For many, this etched itself deeply into their sense of self in their sensitive adolescent years.

I suppose I excluded myself. I didn’t feel I was worth anything. I wasn’t the type of child that would burst into a room bubbly. I was just too caught up, I hated school, I hated everything about it. I spent my whole life trying to be sick - you know, the earaches and stomach aches, that was me. I just went in and tried to survive the day. I wasn’t bullied or picked on, I just I know I switched off for an awful lot of years.

Young people with disabilities need to be resilient to negotiate social life with their peers. This young woman’s friends learned, but not before they had unthinkingly left her in deepest personal isolation:

[When] I got sick all my friends were just starting to go out to night clubs … one time, we actually laugh about it now, I told them I didn’t want to hang around with them anymore. They were all going ‘why, what did we do?’ and I said nothing. I was real abrupt. I just put the phone down and cried because none of them had a clue... Three and a half years later, I went out with them a couple of weeks ago and I remember thinking to myself they were really looking out for me. Everyone was upstairs, all the young people dancing away and one of my friends [said] ’we’ll go downstairs, there are no seats’. She was thinking of me and that never happened before ... They are only realising now. Better late than never.

This young man tentatively identified the rejections he encountered as evidence of systematic prejudice:

If someone talks to me and I go sorry, I’m deaf, I lip-read, and if they walk away, fine, but I’m not going to talk to them again. I don’t know, ‘racist’ might be the word, it might be too strong. But I’m in a club and some people don’t accept it. They might think I’m talking very loud and drunk out of my head and I’m talking a load of rubbish. Girls stand back, they seem to have really big problems my being there. I don’t know why. If they have a problem it’s not my problem. I have to be straightforward, I can’t hide it, I can’t go saying I’m not deaf, I know exactly what you’re saying. I don’t know.

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Coping
Coping with access-related and social pressures took a heavy toll on some participants’ emotional health. And, even for those who paid a ‘lighter’ cost, it devoured energies that could have been directed into the pursuit of the purposes of schooling.

Several participants spoke of having gone through a period of psychological/ emotional difficulty, including alcohol abuse and depression. The above speaker explained why he left school before his Junior Certificate:

It was hell even when I knew I was dyslexic. In Fifth Year every week I’d end up in tears with the frustration. Sixth Year it might have gone to every two, three weeks. It was ignorance; it was the teachers not even open to finding out what it was about. Severe depression, always thinking I was going to die … My whole life was ended.

Frustration could also result in unsocial behaviour:

A guy was getting on my nerves all day, I hit him … I was so angry I hit the door. I was all bleeding because I just had to vent it elsewhere or I’d get into trouble. I think it was an ongoing protest to my life in that school.

Stress was a product of clashes between academic and social ambitions, and personal difficulties:

In primary you were to a certain degree protected by your parents. In second level it was just get the academic first, to be the same as everyone else. Then it started to be the stress – to stop being different, in social life and academic.

I definitely was stressed out. I didn’t go out socialising at weekends; life was on hold for at least three years. I had to do well to get out of school and get on in life, so it was head down.

One speaker argued that added stress is inevitable for the person with a disability:

Even if you improved the teachers and everything you do have more stress. Maybe not from school – it comes from other aspects, the social aspect is hard enough, … Family problems. In school I always tried to improve my social life, bring myself up.

And it was linked to choices as to where he invested his energy

In school I always tried to improve my social life, bring myself up.

Success for these young people lay in overcoming difficulties, achieving self-realisation. The individual had to reach inside for solutions:

You do figure out ways to cope with it. If you deal with it inside yourself you win half the battle. The other half is to just open and admit you have a little bit of a problem. The only person it will affect is the one who has it, and the only way to cure it is to say ‘right, what is your problem?’ and narrow it down. When you narrow it down you can actually solve a lot of your problems.

‘Narrowing down’, in the form of diagnosis and information on her condition, freed the student with dyslexia. So she wanted the information spread around.

There’s very little known about dyslexia out there. You have to educate people and let them know.

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Section 4: Lessons to be learned

4.1: The ‘real world/out there’: perceptions and practice
Participants’ discussion of their experience in wider society eloquently portrays how it effectively reflected their school experience, "writ large". Their reflection on life in society highlighted their sense of exclusion. For participants who had had the opportunity to reflect on the issues involved, this in turn led to discussion of how society creates and maintains strategies of exclusion, and how these could be confronted. This last issue will be the topic of the next Chapter.

In the ‘real world/’, as in schools, disability-dominated perceptions generate practice:

It can come across in the way they speak to you - they might speak slower which is really annoying.

Indicators are that other participants saw their isolation as indicative of a larger social process, of systematic discrimination:

The attitude is all wrong and the media does not help. The media shuns people. If the media focussed more on the range and abilities the world would be a different place for people with slight disabilities.

With genetics there seems to be this idea we want perfection. There are people with different disabilities; it doesn’t need to be hidden. We all have capabilities and non-capabilities, there is nobody in this room that hasn’t and we should be able to accept people for who they are.

They want us like machines but we are human. Being human is everybody having a different mind, people are different. And there might be hope for all this hatred against people disability if we accept who we are. Then we can accept everything else that comes along with it … If we can narrow down to whatever disability people have.

A visionary scenario, spelt out in an interaction during one interview, shows the way forward:

S1 I never liked the word handicapped, I prefer disability. Handicap is something you have in golf. Disability is like you’re disabled; everyone has a disability. For instance learning [I’m ok] but bowls I’m disabled, I can’t. So that’d be my disability. It’s not your physical appearance, it’s what’s inside.

S2 Some people’s disability can be shrouded in different ways. In today’s world if you can’t see it they assume ‘he’ll be able to do this’, and you might not be able to.

S3 It should be recognised more publicly, not only in education.

S2 In the whole of society.

S3 People don’t understand, and you can’t really expect them to either because there is nothing out there to tell them about this.

S1 My county council is fully accessible and even have one member of staff in a wheelchair.

S2 I think that’s marvellous.

S3 That shouldn’t be looked on as that’s brilliant. This should be an everyday thing and it should be ongoing as well.

Later, when talking about raising disability awareness through school programmes, S2 envisages inclusive normality:

S2 it would become normal, just everyday life and people would be able to understand it, ‘ah sure we don’t even know what that is, we just know it’s a normal thing [he’s] like everyone else’. When it comes like that we would get good jobs …

‘Understanding’ includes accepting people whose disabilities are not understood (at least yet). Everyone has some disability, labelling is not an issue. And when such inclusion comes about, people with disabilities will have access to the key to a really normal life – economic independence.

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4.2: Developing disability awareness
This issue arose, both as a factor in teacher/school performance and as topic for inclusion in curricula. Again, these two intersect. Curricular inclusion in turn had two aspects: how issues relating to people with disabilities are addressed as a specific topic, and how people with disabilities are or are not included in depictions of society, in texts and images throughout the curriculum and school environment.

Knowledge and the lack of it were central to all the talk about awareness. And, as one participant said, ‘self esteem is alright but if you don’t know the laws, your rights, it’s not going to get you a job’. The need to ensure that knowledge was matched by a move to guarantee equity by developing good structures was recognised.

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Why a Disabilities Awareness Programme?
Participants singled out some teachers for positive comment: these were empowering rather than kind. Within a system that fortunately has internal contradictions, these teachers found space to engage in good practice.

Participants identified teachers’ knowledge and training as crucial to their empowering teaching. ‘Real nice’ teachers (see above) practised disability awareness: they targeted specific learning needs while relating to the student as a whole person, as more than her/his disability. However, many teachers in the range from the simply kind (enquiring if the student was ‘alright’, offering lifts, etc. see above) to the hostile, lacked professional skills. Speakers identified limits and suggested changes.

Custom and practice can support prejudice. The presence of a student with a disability makes visible how it is embedded in teaching, as in the most unconscious common social habits. As recognised in relation to sexism, racism, etc., clichés are not trivia; they are part of the verbal coinage of power. Again, the presence of a person with a disability makes visible the insult in a throwaway remark, such as ‘are you deaf?’ The issue of politically correct language is thorny, but other perhaps more tractable issues arise where such casual slippage in language use occurs. Good disabilities awareness policy and pedagogy would ensure that the issues of principle, suggested by cliché use, would be explored with the class, without embarrassing reference to a specific student. Thereby all students, regardless of their (dis)abilities, would be challenged.

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Disability awareness: good teaching practice.
Prescription arose from analysis; more knowledge and skills were needed. Teachers who lacked knowledge and skills, were defensive:

They just don’t know what they’re dealing with, so they don’t know how to go about it so they pretend it’s not happening.

Their diagnostic skills should be improved:

Teachers should be trained to spot these signs at their early stage even in primary school.

Practical innovations would enable students to produce work:

If it’s easier to type something rather than write it you should be let do it, it’s the same work but done a different way. I think teachers should be more open to different ideas about how to get the work in. Like if you’ve spent hours at something it takes someone else ten minutes to do, they should acknowledge it.

Anti-bullying programmes should include strategies to ensure that students with disabilities are not hurt through peer ignorance:

Teachers should maybe take one out of each group and sit them together for a project, things like that, even for able bodied people. Because it was unreal the slagging, and it can be at disabled people because they don’t know.

Specialist counselling support should be provided:

Life just throws bad deals at some people; I think there should be a support group in every school and college, specialised people to help.

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Disabilities as a curriculum topic
In the first round of interviews, participants recalled a few incidents relating to discussion of disabilities in class, but the notion of including images and discussion of disabilities in school texts and curricula was new to them. In the second round it generated debate. Two aspects emerged: first, disabilities awareness as a topic in itself, in a module in perhaps the Social, Personal and Health Education curriculum; second, provision to ensure that throughout the curriculum and the school environment, images and texts include people with disabilities as a normal part of society.

Some understood disability awareness modules as inevitably attracting unwelcome disability-focussed attention to themselves. But in one group, a participant had attended courses or seminars on the issue:

I felt a little embarrassed but I knew [the course] was for their own good.

Two others doubted the value of discussing these issues:

I’d find it a bit funny I’d find it a bit strange that they would all go to a course to learn how to speak to someone in a wheelchair.
If the teacher told the class.. I would feel I would be made an issue of.

But a third disagreed, referring to the issue of including disabilities in classroom texts:

Disability is a part of everyday life so including stories on it should be encouraged. I suppose at least you are getting insight.

This led to reflection on the need to disseminate information on specific disabilities:

I think text books [use] scientific words that the general public would not know and that frightens people. It frightens people.

Yea but if it were in them more often we would have to know.

But I think they should explain it in simple terms. I think a book should be handed out to everyone free from the government explaining about every type of disability in nice simple ways. Then when they meet someone like that …they won’t put them down.

These ideas were echoed in other groups. Here, the first speaker, who had at first objected to any discussion in classrooms, later realised how it could be done:

You wouldn’t be saying like so and so, you’d be saying in general … It’s part of life isn’t it?

I don’t know if people realise how disabled people are affected, I mean do people know this?

One group discussed how they might be better prepared to face an exclusionary society on leaving school:

Self-esteem is alright but if you don’t know the laws, your rights, it’s not going to get you a job. It really isn’t.
But how do you do that without singling out the students?
[The whole class] should know really.
But they’re not going to care about disabilities if they don’t have one.
There aren’t that many laws on disability. There are twice as many general laws on what you should get, so it could be taught on a school basis. Even if there aren’t any people with disabilities in the school, there are laws that should taught, general rights.

So, rights must be addressed, and it can be done with sensitivity to personal and interpersonal dynamics in the classroom.

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Images and texts in curricula and in the school environment
The notion of the portrayal of people with disabilities as a normal part of society, in text and image throughout the curriculum, provided the context for focussed consideration of disability issues as such. Discussion on this issue generated the following interaction in another group:

It’s a good idea but I could also imagine cringing if it was in an essay or a novel, and people started to quiz you. I could imagine the red cheeks just appearing. But it wouldn’t be such a shock to people; they’d have a basic understanding.

I hate to say it but I don’t think it’d make much difference. If you don’t see disability in the school you see it on the street. I don’t think it’d make much difference if it was in a book.

There is more to achieving such inclusion than producing appropriate texts. A participant envisaged how appropriate curricular inclusion could transform, first teaching, and then society:

Black beard had only one leg. He was the only fellow mentioned in the history books that had a sort of disability. There are other people in the world that have a disability and they did a lot of good things and they are not recorded. If they were recorded in history I guarantee you disability would be just a laugh. They’d say look at these people, it didn’t affect them in any way. It would change the world we live in.

However, as identified by the group that discussed the need to know one’s rights, social and political realities do not readily defer to visions, of self or society:

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4.3: Consultation
This issue was not discussed in the first round of interviews, but the level of hidden or unheard need expressed by participants provoked its inclusion in the second. Participants were asked if they thought students with disabilities should be represented on student-teacher councils or the like, to ensure their needs were heard.

Discussion of this issue surfaced a key theme in this data: the need to ensure that people with disabilities are guaranteed structured, formal representation and inclusion at all levels of education provision, starting from the very top. This will be central theme in conclusionary analysis and recommendations, in the final section.

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Student Representation – why not?
All groups argued that their needs required more systemic, professional commitment:

I don’t think another student, I think a professional should be there. Somebody connected but detached a little. To know the facts, have the information to back up what you’re saying, explain the situation.

Five minutes after the student leaves it’d be back to normal. It definitely shouldn’t be a student. It’s the teachers themselves, a matter of getting maybe a law passed stating a minimum amount of attention to be paid to people with disabilities, and making sure people are aware of it.

The second group remarked on this issue at intervals through the interview. Focus was on structural inclusion. At school one speaker envisaged:

A mentor, their job to see if you were okay ... part of their job as well as teaching.

Later, the interviewer asked if what they thought of being represented on student councils. The first response was to dismiss that idea:

I don’t know we had something like that before and it hadn’t really done anything

Another participant followed, to talk of representation, not in schools but in government, and of how the trickle down effect would transform everything:

He could be the spokesperson for people with disabilities, because some disabled people would be afraid to admit openly that they’ve a problem. … People assume ‘ oh God love him’, and pity him. I think if someone was on a council … designated … they would say ‘listen if he’s on the government, he’s bright’ and then naturally from the top it would go down very slowly to everywhere, and everyone would be offered jobs, disabled and able bodies working together in the same place and Ireland would become a better place to live in…

This group opted for top-down rather than bottom up representation – for structural inclusion. The third group did not discuss representation in such political terms; the main comment from that discussion was:

You should have one person (Q: A student?) instead of asking everyone and explaining to them what they have to do and all this kind of stuff.

This neatly catches the general desire to not have to continually present and explain their needs relating to their disability.

This desire to have provision for their needs integrated into the mundane text of physical and processual provision was a highly significant theme in the interview data, as will be seen in the next section. Suffice it to say here that participants felt that such ordinary inclusion would have enabled them to get on with the stuff of school life – getting on, socially and academically.

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Section 5: Conclusions and Recommendations

5.1: What the data said
In this Chapter, the detailed findings are summarised and contextualised within a broader analytic framework.

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Introduction
Participants talked about their experience of second-level schooling mainly in terms of relationships with teachers and peers and in the broader framework of an ideological discourse of normality. Other issues were discussed in terms of how they intersected with these – for instance, parents were brought into the discussion insofar as they struggled with teachers, supported their children, and protected them; the built environment was discussed in terms of how difficulties posed by it impacted on relations with peers.

Schooling experience
Participants’ talk about their schooling experience was couched almost entirely in terms of how teachers dealt with their performance and aspirations. They wanted good relationships with teachers whose expectations of them were neither too high nor too low, who gave them good feedback on their work and who promoted inclusive interactions among class peers. They wanted no more or less than good teaching practice.

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Peer relationships
In relations with their peers, they wanted to fit in and be involved in class and extra-curricular activities, unimpeded by the need to keep asking for help. Participants’ childhood and school experience and their self-concept intersected, in shaping their hopes for and experience of life in the wider world.

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Social Inclusion
In short, participants sought normality (they wanted to go to school and live and work there, like any of their peers) but most experienced isolation in their struggle to gain full access to and inclusion in school life in its physical, social and academic aspects. The defeat of their aspirations was substantially due to the omnipresence of their status as people with disabilities, in a built and process context that was unprepared for their inclusion. As will be demonstrated below, the experiences they recounted occurred in a system context that permitted, even legitimised, oversight. However, the system also allows space for, and in theory supports, good teaching practice, though evidence in these interviews suggests that the system is not substantially committed to supporting good practice.

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Issues

Mobility
With regard to choice of school, ‘getting in’ was relatively simple; ‘getting around’ in complex buildings proved more difficult. ‘Getting on’, being appropriately placed in relation to one’s ability levels, and being enabled to enter into all the activities demanded within the varied subject areas - these issues proved more complex still.

Placement/Streaming
Achieving placement appropriate to their abilities proved problematic for many participants. Teacher perceptions and expectations of students with a given disability influenced class placement. Again some schools were more flexible, allowing students to participate in class at their ability level and take examinations at their performance level (the level constrained by the supports available at the time). With improved assistive provision, performance could well catch up with ability.

Absenteeism due to illness and hospitalisation were a problem for some participants, resulting in their relocation in class streams below their ability level.

Structural Resources
Participants did not discuss what their everyday assistive electronic technology needs were, perhaps because their knowledge of possibilities was limited to what they had experienced. However, they did register how inadequacies in this domain impeded them in examinations. The Department of Education and Science has in place a system of supports for students with disabilities taking examinations, but many found accessing these supports difficult. Some teachers were sceptical of their needs, the supports themselves were inadequate, and opportunity to prepare for using them was nearly non-existent.

Subject Specific Resources
In class activities in subjects requiring laboratory work, and in physical education, some participants were involved, some had to play the role of audience. Bench heights in some schools’ science laboratories were adjusted, some stayed as they always were; some PE teachers found ways to involve students with disabilities, others were content to let them watch. But even the positive teacher had to balance the need for a programme tailored to the student, with making the student feel part of the class.

Extra curricular activities posed the same problems for some. Some schools and teachers made an effort to include participants in all their activities and others seemed to forget them. The students at these times reported feelings of exclusion and difference.

This resumé of access issues highlights how access and interactions intersected in participants’ experience – as in any student’s experience of school provision.

Inclusion in social interactions
Student-teacher-parent interactions: Teacher attitudes had immense impact on these students, whose fragile grip on the system was maintained through constant struggle in relation to their own health issues, to their often unmet need for specific supports, and to their physical inclusion in school life. The range and mix of teachers’ responses to students with disabilities were heavily dependent on whether they viewed a disability as wholly defining the child with a disability or as one among many intersecting elements that went to make up the child.

Participants gave clear indicators that some teachers’ performance was unprofessional by any standards. But the majority reflected relatively unthinkingly the mores of society with regard to people with disabilities. Many teachers had little insight into participants’ disabilities, despite their parents’ efforts to inform the school of their child’s disability and their needs. Participants met with teachers that excluded them in classroom question times, accepted lower standards for their work and gave poor feedback on it, and placed them inappropriately within class. Such teacher responses to students with disabilities point to the lack of information and awareness. As one participant said, ‘they don’t know what they are dealing with, so they don’t know how to go about it so they pretend it’s not happening’. But in this, teachers are reflecting broader societal attitudes: ‘People don’t understand, and you can’t really expect them to either because there is nothing out there to tell them about this’. One participant referred to some disabilities as ‘shrouded’ – precisely catching the experience of people with less evident physical, sensory, or specific learning difficulties. Teachers often bypassed these students, either out of sympathy or because they had categorised them as ‘stupid’ or ‘lazy’. So, teacher perceptions and expectations of students and of disabilities intersect with student performance.

Empowering teachers, on the other hand, targeted specific learning needs and related to the student as a whole person. They facilitated students with extra tuition, notes, encouragement and guidance. For many, the interventions of these teachers had an empowering impact. However, this kind of response, which should be more the status quo rather than the ad hoc, occurred substantially in the informal domain.

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Reflection on Issues
The scenario painted in these interviews suggests that schools and teachers responded to requests to change in the fashion of a read-only computer file: every time the file is opened, all changes previously made have to be redone - because the system had not dedicated enough power or memory to making them part of the main text. Many students with disabilities had to do likewise – ask for the same things repeatedly, and remind those who changed for a while and then forgot, to do so again, over and over.

Participants with certain disabilities had to rely on their peers to gain access to school facilities, because there was not a system in place to ensure personal assistance or technical aids. Asking for help is always difficult; having to do so on an everyday basis is more so. This altered the relationship of the students to her/his peers. The experience of participants with more hidden disabilities highlights the fact that the issue is not the asking for help in itself, it is what one feels when so doing, what it does to the applicants self image. As one with dyslexia said, she could always ask supportive teachers and friends but these were few. From the majority she got the hidden message ‘I am stupid’, and she would not reinforce this message to herself by asking for their help. Diagnosis lessened the impact of their negative perceptions on her self-esteem.

Social life in school
This was as least as important as the academic for all participants. Some withdrew into themselves and developed little or no interaction with their peers; many encountered problems that were difficult to overcome without expert assistance. Some talked of depression and the struggle to keep up and fit in within the school. For those who succeeded, it was due to recognising and, as they said, ‘narrowing down’ the disability and learning how best to cope with it.

Out-of-school socialising in their adolescent years was a closely allied problem for participants. As one participant stated, when his peers began to be selective in choosing their friends, he found he was always going to them and they did not come to him. Friends did not understand, or were not aware of the problems he encountered in common social situations, such as dark pubs and lively nightclubs.

Specialised third level provision
The majority of participants chose specialised post-second level provision, although all were fully in favour of inclusion in mainstream education. Why? As they explain, it is a more ‘level playing field’: access to classrooms is easier, teachers are more informed, and assistive technologies are there for their use. In other words, the level pitch they struggled for in mainstream schools is the norm in specialised provision. Participants found mainstream schools were not equipped to meet their needs, although the principle of inclusive school provision is well established in policy.

Consultation
Participants viewed the need for consultation in a broad manner. They identified the need for a systemic commitment to ensure true consultation and representation. They saw the need for structures such as mentors within the system. As the interview process continued, the advantages of disability awareness programmes and the inclusion of people with disabilities in texts became more apparent to them. The lack of knowledge, understanding and awareness of the issues surrounding disability within the school, society and the world of work was a theme running throughout the whole interviews in one form or another.

In sum, both as regards access and inclusion, participants’ experience was one of struggle and eventual acceptance: ‘you get used to it after a while’.

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Window of Opportunity: Disability Awareness
A major issue arising in discussions was the need for an awareness-raising programme, available to all schools and teachers. Lack of understanding and knowledge of the needs of students with disabilities is evident from the varied responses of schools in their interaction with these students. Participants struggled to fit in to the school and its programmes, with the minimum of disturbance. However, there are needs that have to be met.

Participants identified a need for their peers to have a greater understanding of disability. Though they were uncomfortable with the idea that disability awareness programmes would mean focus was on them individually, they all saw the benefit of such programmes and of the inclusion of people with disabilities in depictions of normal society, in textbooks across the curriculum, and in the school environment.

One participant, remarking on how her able bodied friends would react with fear if they visited the special third level institution she attends, said ‘that is horrible’, and attributed it to the lack of awareness they shared with society generally. This theme was carried through the discussion on society, the world of work, friends and teachers. They talk of prejudice encountered in the world of work, the attitudes of people and the media and the lack of understanding in general. The concept of the ‘hidden curriculum’ applies: schools ostensibly challenge society but they are also instruments of that society, designed to maintain the status quo - ‘teachers and employers, peas in a pod’.

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Participants’ evaluations in context
For fruitful readings of participants’ evaluations of school and teacher performance, it is necessary to place that performance in the wider systemic context, which constrains and empowers education delivery via the local school. This contextualisation also entails review of how the system has ‘heard’ the majority students’ needs.

The core argument in this analysis is that the paradigm of ‘normality’, expressed in how the system caters for the majority, is the locus of the problem. To locate the ‘solution’, this paradigm must be transformed, because it defines how the clients are perceived, and generates theories as to how their needs will be addressed. With commitment of resources, changes in practice will follow. Unless both theory and resources are securely in place, critique of local practice usually results in calls for personal conversion on the part of coal-face workers – in this case, teachers and local schools.

The nested nature of schools and teacher practice is important, given the emphasis on service deliverers in interview discussions. Talk about teachers (including administrative Principals) dominated. This is not surprising given that teachers, the face-to-face deliverers of education, mediate the system to its consumers, students. But teachers work within the terms laid down by policy makers – the Department of Education and Science, Churches, Vocational Education Committees, and the more amorphous ‘community’ represented by the National Parents’ Council, or perhaps more precisely by parents’ nominees and nominees of other local interests on School Boards. These bodies, the source of power for change, are not visible to second level students, and rarely featured in participant talk, though in every group made some reference to a foundational or power indicator, whether that was ‘laws’, or ‘the architects and the government’, or ‘the Department’. And in tandem with this hidden power structure is the fact that teachers are members of a society which is itself exclusionary. There appears to be a lack of dialogue between and within these levels. It is a function of the Department of Education and Science to devise policy for all education institutions under its aegis. This it has done in relation to education for people with disabilities, in the SERC Report and subsequent documents (see policy review section above). However, it does not seem that any of the middle management authorities named here has issues policy statements demonstrating how this national document will be applied within its area of responsibility. And the evidence from research literature (see literature review above) indicates that the system has developed in an ad hoc manner, inadequately resourced in terms of teacher training, specialised personnel, equipment, and financial resources to meet local needs.

This study reveals how participants perceive this system inadequacy, mediated to them via the performance of local schools and teachers who themselves have been failed by the system in their efforts to deliver a better service. This study illustrates the usefulness of initiating such dialogue, registering the hidden voices in the official domain.

Access and interaction
These two key elements in participants’ experience proved to be complex, intersecting processes, involving considerations of enrolment, building style, teacher perceptions, inclusive school practice (Snell and Eichner, 1989). From interview analysis it emerged that the system context left teachers and local schools in free-fall in relation to how they addressed the needs and potential of students with disabilities. Their responses, positive or negative - and often mixed - were rooted in how they perceived the disability in question. Adjustments to enable people with disabilities to cope were predominantly made in the informal domain – local school innovations, individual teacher initiatives, peer concern. In the absence of pre-existing structures of inclusion, participants had to continually inform others of their needs, and ask for help. This put pressure on their social lives, their sense of others and of self.

The narrowness of the conventional discourse of normality is made visible in the reasons why most participants chose specialised post-second-level education and training provision. This seems to give the lie to their stated opinions on integration. But their option actually validates the argument it seems to contradict. Their consciousness of acceptance in separate provision highlights their experience of marginalisation in mainstream. And, how disability related issues are explored in separate provision, highlights their omission in mainstream.

The dilemma is that where these students can reflect on such things, they are separated from mainstream, and the majority population is thereby freed from the challenge to face the unknown; the majority’s fear is ‘horrible’. This critique applies to the whole system - all should be able to attend institutions that cater for all, at every level. Specialised supports should be part of the institution’s discourse of normality, offered to match the reality that normal society is a spectrum of disabilities and abilities.

This highlights an issue relating to introducing a new, inclusive paradigm of normality. Inclusion of people with disabilities does not end the need for all special programmes. On the one hand, some seemingly specific adaptations will become universal. For instance, people in wheelchairs will still need ramps; what will change for instance in the exterior built environment is that ramps will become the norm because a wider spectrum of humanity can use them, than can use steps. On the other, some specific needs will remain specific, but meeting them will become a matter of course: this has happened already in relation to wearing glasses – who can remember when this was a badge of shame. The same must happen in relation to responding, as a matter of course, to other newly recognised needs – they must be brought into the realm of normality.

Students with disabilities are a ‘deviant case’ in relation to the dominant discourse of the school system. The dominant order appears to be the immutable natural order, acquires the invisibility and silence of normality. But the arrival of minorities, such as people with disabilities, make it visible and audible, as the minorities talk and talk, trying to get their needs met, to achieve normality for themselves. But the system’s apparent immutability muffles their voices, generates the assumption that the student has or is the problem. Custom and practice appear acceptable, immutable and invisible - sometimes even to people with disabilities.

But eventually the presence of people, who cannot reach the desired goals because the environment prevents them, reveals system choices shaping that environment. Things such as high benches in science laboratories may seem to be part of the natural order, but they are often barriers erected by system choices, and once made visible they often can be changed. Things need not be as they always have been seen.

Placing participants’ experiences and evaluations in this context is productive on three counts. It reveals that their local, individual struggle is rooted in a substantive systemic basis; this indicates that the experience will go on being replicated in the lives of others, unless the systemic is addressed. Therefore system context is the framework for grounded reflection on effective system change.

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5.2 System response: framework and recommendations

Possibilities for system response
The system could respond to needs identified in a study such as this, point by point, adjusting and augmenting existing provision. To compensate for inadequacies in this response, it could focus on the difficulties and pain experienced by people with disabilities negotiating the system, and offer remediation, therapy and supports.

The argument proposed here, however, is that the system stand back and look at how it defines its clients; and at how that definition, supported by adequate resources, can transform provision. The basic paradigm - how human normality is conceptualised – must be transformed. It is normal for a percentage of the human race to have disabilities of some kind; it should be normal for student and teaching populations to reflect this; and it should be normal to provide a learning environment where students and teachers with disabilities can go about the business of teaching and learning, normally.

Principles of inclusiveness must systematically inform the education system. In all institutions, policy statements must be matched with commitment to providing the means to implement them at all levels, including system administration, building programmes, curriculum development, provision for the running of schools, personnel training (for teachers, Principals, people in paid and voluntary management positions, inspectors and administrative staff). Without systematic, comprehensive commitment to inclusion, empowering teacher practice must remain in the informal domain (and devour far more energy than it need do), and students with disabilities will go on having to ask for help over and over again.

Obstacles to involvement posed by conventional practices could be overcome, or could be assumed to be immutable. Today, access to distance learning programmes can be ensured; the system must be committed to putting such programmes in place for all students whose school attendance is fragmented, and schools must also be equipped and have policy in place, to activate such programmes and work in this context.

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Consultation
Though the number of participants interviewed in this exploratory survey was small, the validity of the findings is supported by research literature relating to germane projects. Participants’ accounts of their experience and their suggestions as to how things could be improved, add to the case for recommendations regarding specificities of provision, as outlined in the Strategy for Equality (SE) Report (1996). There is no need to repeat these here.

The topic of consultation was of central significance in this study. Two facets warrant remark: first, the need for consultation in the education system; second, discussion of the concept in interviews generated a pointer, identifying at what level within the system consultation should take place. Both pointers arise from the interview data and need no further elaboration.

The issue of how representation and consultation should occur within the system was a recurrent topic in the interviews. Participants clearly stated that these processes should be located at foundational or source level – at the level of professional power and policy within the system, involving structural inclusion via teacher mentors, to law. This discussion among participants endorses the conclusionary analysis offered here – that change must originate in the very source of the system, and be comprehensively implemented at all levels of policy and practice, if it is to be effective.

This survey has two specific insights to add; each generates a major recommendation. Taken together, these insights and recommendations generate in turn, insights into how specific proposals should be framed; these will be indicated by examples.

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5.3: Insights arising from this study
The project ‘Hidden Voices’ has highlighted the sense of isolation experienced by the participants during their schooling years. The system’s approach to integration has done little to date other than heighten their sense of difference when they themselves sought inclusion and normality. Successful integration was difficult to achieve due to a lack of systemic provision and therefore in the main the level of integration achieved was dictated by the level of preparedness in the local school. As found in other research (UNESCO 1993) the right to full educational access at all levels of the curriculum was not available to the participants.

The participants' discussions predominately centred on the following:

1. Issues relating to representation, to being heard, all focussed on the systemic. This is neatly illustrated by one group’s emphatic rejection of student representatives as ineffectual: they wanted mandated professionals, and their entitlements protected in law.

And, arising from the inadequacies in systemic preparedness to include them -

2. Participants experienced all obstacles to access and academic progress, as refracted through the lens of relationships.

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5.4: Recommendations arising from these insights

The following recommendations exemplify the concept of the inclusive school. They are presented in two stages: recommendations in principle, flowing from the insights above; followed by sample specific provision-related recommendations reflecting the paradigm shift.

1. Given systemic adoption of a new paradigm of normality, it must be promoted through the following:

a) A body of legislation, developed on foot of the 1998 Education Act, to protect the entitlements of students with disabilities.
b) A review of current policy documents in light of the definition of normality.
c) Local policy development, showing adoption of principles promoted in Department policy documents.
d) Systemic commitment to identifying and providing all necessary supports, relating to personnel, adaptations to the built environment, and equipment.
e) Specifically, commitment to accessing new powerful developments in assistive electronic technology, by informing and training schools staff (starting with Principals, resource and remedial teachers, and guidance counsellors) and disseminating knowledge of new developments.

2.  Given the centrality of interpersonal interactions,

a) Initial and ongoing training in disability awareness within this new paradigm framework is required for personnel involved whether on a professional or voluntary basis: policy makers, administrators, teachers, parents and peers.
b) Initial and in-career training in relation to access and inclusion issues for personnel throughout the education system – at administration, management, and provision levels.

3.  In the light of both of the above, resources must be committed to ensuring the translation into practice of this inclusive paradigm of normality. For instance:

a) With regard to access to the built environment: physical provision that suits the greatest variety of personal (dis)ability must be the norm – for instance, ramps are more universally accessible, and therefore should replace steps wherever possible.
b) With regard to teaching programmes: as the SE Report recommends (p. 103): ‘physical education teachers should be encouraged to develop alternative strategies … that are inclusive of all the children…’. The use of the term ‘alternative’ is debatable: a paradigm of normality would require that these inclusive strategies are the norm.
c) With regard to texts: the diversity of Irish society must be reflected in all texts and images, for use with all students at all levels.

Finally, though it was not strictly within the parameters of this study, it was obvious that many participants came to second or even third level institutions, doubly disadvantaged. Lacking assistive technology, they were unneccessarily impeded by their disability and, as a result of having struggled through earlier school levels without such technology, their attainment had fallen behind their ability levels. So, they had two challenges to face when they did get the assistive technology: to learn to use it, and to make up the learning losses they had accumulated to date.

Resources must be committed to supply appropriate assistive technology at the earliest possible date, so that students are enabled to achieve to their highest potential, from the very beginning of their formal education careers.

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5.5: Research issues arising
There are many unheard voices in this sector of the education system.
As noted in the methodology section, the group who became involved in this research project did not include people with disabilities who were alienated, did not want to or who were not able to talk about their school experience or lack of it; nor did it include those who were successful and felt no need to talk.

(a) Research is needed to register these people’s experiences.
It seemed from the interview discussions that parents were as much on their own vis a vis the education system as were their children. There is a need for reliable support and information services for parents..

b) Further research is needed to identify the type and nature of the supports and services required by parents.
Participants met with empowering, skilled teachers. Reed (1995) notes that the focus of much research into teacher practice has been on what might be called everyday practice, and little has been directed to teachers who have made specific commitments (such as the empowering teachers in this study); such focus would be very useful in identifying how to improve education delivery.

Further research is required

i. to identify precisely what skilled teachers contributed in this domain.
ii. to identify how these skills and approaches could be disseminated through the teaching population.
iii. to register skilled teachers’ experience, to identify their requirements in the context of the Irish education system.

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Final statement

‘People don’t understand, and you can’t really expect them to either because there is nothing out there to tell them about this’.

This speaker, once she was diagnosed, did start to confront social attitudes. But her phrase ‘out there’ in this extract highlights the sense of separateness, the gap many participants felt to exist between them and the non-understanding world.

Schools were microcosms of this wider world. Participants struggled and though ‘you get used to it after a while’, their stories and their involvement in this project indicate that they continue to seek normality, to be included.

The resilience displayed in discussions of how things could be changed deserves a positive commitment to ensuring that they are changed, in formal, top-level policy and commitment to provide systemic financial and personnel resources, and in local practice.


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Appendix: A brief analysis of relevant elements in the Government of Ireland Education Act (1998)

The 1998 Education Act provides a statutory and basis for legislation, policy and practice in relation to all education provision. Kenny (1999, publication pending) provides a brief review of what the Act has to say about education for people with disabilities.

Section 7 states the functions of the Minister under this Act ("functions" include powers and duties (p. 6)). The first function is:

to ensure … that there is made available to each person resident in the State, including a person with a disability or who has other special educational needs, support services and a level and quality of education appropriate to meeting the needs and abilities of that person. (p. 10)

Right through the Act, every reference to education consumers (people availing of state education services - children/pupils/students etc.) is followed, as above, by the phrase ‘including [those] who have a disability or who have other special educational needs’. (‘Special educational needs’ refers to ‘needs of students who have a disability, and … exceptionally able students (p. 8)).

Section 2 provides the following definitions of disabilities:

1) "disability" means:

(a) the total or partial loss of a person’s bodily or mental functions, including the loss of a part        of a person’s body, or
(b) the presence in the body of organisms causing or likely to cause, chronic disease or illness,        or
(c) the malfunction, malformation or disfigurement of a part of a person’s body; or
(d) a condition or malfunction which results in a person learning differently
(e) a condition, illness or disease which affects a person’s thought processes, perception of         reality, emotions or judgement or which results in disturbed behaviour;

These definitions are clinical in terminology. However, such definitions may ensure that a given disability is recognised and responded to as neither more nor less than itself.

Section 2 (3) defines ‘support services’. The following elements are particularly relevant to students with disabilities:

assessment of students;
psychological services;
guidance and counselling services;
technical aid and equipment, including means of access to schools, adaptations to buildings to facilitate access and transport, for students with special needs and their families; provision for students learning through … sign language, including interpreting services;
speech therapy services;
provision … for students with special needs otherwise than in schools … (p. 8)

There seems to be a limitation in the supports listed here. Subsection (d) seems to relate ‘technical aids’ only to physical access. Learning-related aids listed relate only to psychological (b), hearing (e) and speech (f) needs; there is no reference to other forms of learning-related assistive technology, such as Braille or electronic aids. However, given that (as noted above) all references to education consumers are stated to include those with disabilities, it would seem that a full range of supports other than any or all of the above must be offered, to ensure that the Minister can actually offer a disabled student an education ‘appropriate to meeting the needs and abilities of that person’ (p. 10, Section 7).

Section 7 (4) states that ‘in carrying out his or her functions, the Minister shall have regard to’ the resources available; provision for education and training by other agencies funded by the Oireachtas; and traditions and the right of schools to manage their affairs, in accordance with this Act. Latitude is given, but qualified. Also, the Minister shall ‘make all reasonable efforts to consult with’ all the education stake holders, including ‘persons or groups of persons who have a special interest in, or experience of, the education of students with special educational needs’ (pp. 11-12).

Part VI Section 37, defines ‘education support centres’ as places ‘in which services are provided for schools, teachers, parents, boards …’ to support them in providing education (p. 33). Given the reference for all these partners, development of support provision for students with disabilities would presumably come under this remit, as envisaged in the SERC Report (1993). However, there are some lacunae. For instance, in Part VIII (Examinations), no reference is made to adjusted provision for candidates with disabilities. It refers to preparation and marking of ‘papers or materials’ (p. 38), but ‘materials’ might simply refer to elements such as experimental or mixed media work.

So, the 1998 Act provides a level of principled commitment to equity in relation to students with disabilities. However, as noted, there are lacunae; a comprehensive body of legislation based on the Act, arising from proceedings in the Dáil and the courts, is required to ensure comprehensive legal protection for these students educational entitlements.

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