Social Construction of Disability

It was with interest I read of an un-named school principal from somewhere in Melbourne enunciating the difficulties that arise from integrating disabled children in his school.  The article published recently in The Age ( Insight liftout June 10, 2017 A balancing act to keep kids safe) included difficult illustrations of various 'basket-holds' used to restrain children.   At issue is the problem of protecting staff and other students from the sometimes violent outbursts of children with disabilities, while realising the rights of those same students to participate in a normal classroom environment.
It raises some very real ethical questions for teachers and principals. According to the authors of the article, some of the answers to those questions have been problematic at best. I was surprised when I read of the case in Canberra, where an autistic child had been kept caged; In Melbourne too, seclusion has become a management 'technique'. More difficult is the idea that teachers need to be taught 'what can only be described as martial arts techniques'.
So I wonder at how concepts of social-constructivism and privilege can inform our understanding of disability.  It would be an easy argument to say that disability is objectively, or medically defined, and therefore all bets are off when deciding how to manage behaviour. In my experience though, diagnostic 'ideas' such as 'attention deficit disorder' or being on the Autism/Aspergers spectrum can lead to a range of responses and interventions both in the home and in the classroom.  The idea is always to enhance the child's experience and capacities. More generally to improve their relationships with their peers and with authority figures.
The tone of the article, ultimately, is not helpful. Surely, there are many more examples of children with disabilities who not only receive a benefit from mainstream schooling but provide a benefit to the wider school community.  While I understand the importance of not diminishing the difficulties faced by disabled children, we should not underestimate our own tendency to only see disability as a problem.  Inclusive schools, the mantra goes, are effective schools. In 2008, Konza wrote,
"Inclusion provides opportunities for the development of appropriate attitudes towards people with a range of disabilities. Exposure to students of all types on a daily basis allows typical students to see that, just like themselves, students with disabilities have strengths and weakness, and good days and bad days...(Changing) attitudes towards people with disabilities requires, both, information about these disabilities and experience with people with disabilities ... Inclusion facilitates both of these requirements. ... Some students with disabilities have significant strengths in particular subject areas. Local secondary schools allow access to specialist teachers, which many Special Units within mainstream schools do not have." (Konza 2008)





 Konza, D, Inclusion of students with disabilities in new times: responding to the challenge, in Kell, P, Vialle, W, Konza, D and Vogl, G (eds), Learning and the learner: exploring learning for new times, University of Wollongong, 2008,

Plato's Cave & The Matrix

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Read an amazing article in a back issue of New Philosopher Magazine:

"Plato's Cave and The Matrix" by John Partridge in New Philosopher No 1 Aug-Oct 2013 pp 106-110

"...Socrates thought that the unexamined life was not worth living...(and) likened the human condition to the state of prisoners bound in a cave seeing only shadows projected on the wall in front of them. Transcending this state is the aim of genuine education...an upward journey of darkness into light" (P.106)

In the film The Matrix, central character Neo, "...cannot determine which sensory information is genuine and which false" (P.107) So too Plato "...urges us to regard the sensible world as unreliable" (P.107) and here is the role of the teacher:

To help students transcend an insensible world.

So it begins

 

It is with a mixture of both trepidation and excitement that I begin these first steps toward becoming a teacher. Truth be told it is a journey I started decades ago, with a few diversions and speed humps along the way.
My relationship with learning has always been a complex one. An academic record that even in primary school swung wildly between excellent and obstinate. I was the frustration of my teachers and parents alike. Adults that could see potential, glimmers of enthusiasm for learning that were impossible to catch and ignite long enough to gain momentum. In turn made worse by a wild youth and resolute attitude that trapped me in short term excitement and long term disappointment.
When I finally managed to embark on  my tertiary journey in my late 20's I thrived as I shrugged off self doubt and allowed myself a fully immersive experience.
The hot stone I carry is my failed attempt at an honours year that saw me stumble and the finish line. Hurdle after hurdle had me down and I walked away, convinced I could continue with self-driven learning and return to finish what I started sooner rather than later.

 I blinked and 15 years had passed.

These were year rich in experience and meaning, I moved to a new city, became a partner, a parent, a son in law. I started a business, lost a business, supported my wife through a year of terrible cancer treatment, and in turn got to know my own mother better as I turned to her for support and guidance. Her influence in my decision to begin this new journey seemingly so much further down the path than many of my fellow students cannot be underestimated. A teacher for more than 35 years she is now an assistant principal and considers the past 5 years to be the happiest and most fulfilling of her career. Her encouragement and advice have already been invaluable.

when articulating my philosophy of both learning and teaching I find it is impossible for it not to be personal and subjective. How did I learn? Who taught me? when was I listening and when was I rejecting what I had been told? Had I not always been a student? Even when work was mundane as driving a bread truck I was still exploring notions of writing local histories of inner city streets constantly thinking of ways I could perhaps open the door again.

Learning should be a lifelong ambition, one that is full of curiosity and genuine wonder.
Learning is about listening, making connections, firing up the imagination.

Teaching can be a lifelong ambition, one that is full of curiosity and genuine wonder.
Teaching is about listening, making connections, firing up the imagination.

They are two sides of the same coin.