Microsoft Word - 532-99Z_Article Text-1475-1-11-20180919.docx Volume  2,  Issue  1   2018   Allies  for  Education  2018,  1,  2   https://journals.library.csuci.edu/ojs/index.php/afe     Invisible  Disability,  Visible  Implications:  Eleanor’s   Story   Talya  Drescher   Assistant  Professor  of  Special  Education   CSU  Channel  Islands     I  have  what  one  might  call  a  complicated  relationship  with  public  school  education.    In  addition  to  being   the  mother  and  aunt  of  school-­‐aged  children  with  many  friends  of  similarly  aged  children,  I  am  a  former   special  education  teacher  and  current  instructor  of  future  teachers.    My  knowledge  and  experience  in   the  realm  of  special  education  sometimes  complicate  the  roles  of  parent,  friend  and  teacher  educator   when  it  comes  to  the  education  of  children  I  know  because  in  conversation  and  practice  I  wear  many   education  related  hats.    I  hope  that  by  sharing  a  little  bit  of  the  following  story,  parents  of  children  like   the  one  I  will  describe  will  find  some  comfort  in  knowing  they  and  their  children  are  not  alone.    As  a   teacher  educator,  my  wish  is  that  this  story  will  be  taken  into  consideration  as  teachers  prepare   classrooms  and  routines  for  the  coming  year.   Without  divulging  the  identity  of  my  children,  family  and  friends,  and  with  the  permission  of  the  family,  I   would  like  to  share  the  story  of  one  child  in  my  sphere  because  I  do  not  think  that  her  story  and   struggles  are  unique.    In  fact,  I  believe  that  at  the  close  of  this  article,  many  of  you  will  be  able  to  relate   in  some  way;  whether  it  is  because  you  have  a  child  with  similar  learning  needs,  a  school  with  the  same   practices  or  just  a  feeling  of  helplessness  that  this  family  felt  as  they  attempt  to  navigate  the  school   system.    I’ll  call  this  young  child  Eleanor.    She  is  very  close  to  my  own  children.    She  is  a  special  little   seven-­‐year-­‐old  girl  who  is  very  curious,  loving,  sensitive,  sometimes  mischievous,  and  bright.    She  likes   to  play,  use  tools  to  measure  things  in  the  classroom,  organize  her  desk  area,  assume  the  job  of  light   monitor  and  line  leader  (if  she’s  lucky!)  and  help  children  on  the  yard  who  she  believes  are  lonely.    From   time  to  time,  she  also  does  not  pay  attention  in  class,  lets  naughty  words  slip  and  often  forgets  to  bring   home  her  homework  folder  and  important  notifications.       I  have  known  for  a  while  that  Eleanor  has  a  learning  disability,  specifically  in  the  area  of  auditory   processing.    Due  to  Eleanor’s  ability  to  compensate  utilizing  her  strength  in  visual  processing,  her   academics  are  all  considered  appropriate,  or  technically,  in  the  “average  ranges.”    Because  my   professional  role  is  in  the  area  of  special  education,  I  also  know  that  based  on  the  assessments  we  tend   to  give,  when  she  is  assessed  at  this  age,  she  will  likely  not  qualify  for  services  due  to  her  achievements;   at  least  not  for  another  year  or  two.       Invisible  Disability,  Visible  Implications:  Eleanor’s  Story   Talya  Drescher   Allies  for  Education  2018,  2,  1   https://journals.library.csuci.edu/ojs/index.php/afe     Eleanor’s  auditory  processing  disability  falls  under  the  umbrella  of  “learning  disability”  and  means  that   someone  does  not  process  what  they  hear  efficiently.    It  does  not  mean  that  they  have  sub-­‐average   intelligence.    In  fact,  the  opposite  is  often  true.    In  Eleanor’s  case,  the  best  way  to  describe  this  is   through  an  anecdote.  One  day  when  I  went  to  pick  up  my  child  from  summer  camp,  the  children  were   playing  “Steal  the  Bacon.”  When  their  assigned  number  was  called,  players  competed  to  get  to  the   “bacon”  first  and  return  to  their  seat.    Eleanor,  who  was  also  attending  camp,  was  labeled  number  four.   I  watched  a  few  rounds  of  the  game  until  “Four!”  was  called.    Eleanor  was  paying  close  attention  as   evidenced  by  her  sitting  straight,  leaning  forward  to  hear  the  caller,  and  smiling  in  anticipation,  but   when  “Four!”  was  yelled,  it  was  a  good  couple  of  seconds  before  her  brain  processed  it.    By  the  time  she   processed  that  she  needed  to  get  up  and  aim  for  the  bacon,  the  other  child  already  had  the  item.    This   was  the  first  time  I  could  see  her  learning  disability  although  I  had  suspected  for  quite  some  time.    I   could  see  the  delay  in  her  ability  to  process  what  she  had  heard.     Learning  disabilities  are  called  “hidden  disabilities”  because  we  cannot  see  them.    In  younger  children,   particularly  those  with  mild  hidden  disabilities,  diagnosis  is  often  elusive  as  the  disability  does  not   necessarily  grossly  affect  their  academic  achievement.  Since  we  cannot  see  the  disability,  they  often  go   undiagnosed  for  quite  some  time.    What  happens  during  that  time  socially  is  of  concern  to  me.  I  know   from  the  literature  that  children  with  learning  disabilities  are  often  at  a  social  disadvantage  when   compared  to  non-­‐learning  disabled  peers  (Estell  et  al.,  2008;  Kavale  &  Mostert,  2004;  Nowicki,  2012;   Nowicki  et  al.,  2014;  Vaughn,  Elbaum,  &  Boardman,  2001).      After  the  “Steal  the  Bacon”  incident,  I   started  to  notice  that  Eleanor  was  often  excluded  from  group  sports.    During  pick  up  time,  I  had  to  walk   through  throngs  of  kids  playing  sports  and  observed  that,  when  the  coach  told  the  team  which  way  to  go   or  which  maneuver  to  make,  it  took  Eleanor  longer  to  process  the  directions.    As  a  result,  she  started  to   get  picked  last  for  teams,  and  during  family  and  friend  gatherings,  I  could  hear  her  complain  that  nobody   wanted  her  on  their  team.    Eleanor’s  auditory  processing  delay  had  put  her  at  a  disadvantage  on  the   yard.   Eleanor’s  learning  disability  also  has  non-­‐academic  implications  in  the  classroom.  Almost  two  years  ago,   I  had  the  pleasure  of  volunteering  in  our  children’s  classroom.    I  saw  that  the  teacher  had  a  clip  chart  for   behavior.  When  I  asked  about  the  chart,  the  teacher  explained  that  children  tend  to  move  up  and  down   the  chart  throughout  the  day;  a  child  clips  up  when  they  are  good  and  down  when  they  do  something   naughty.    I  heard  that  Eleanor  tended  to  come  home  with  a  naughty  report.    Knowing  that  no  child  is   perfect,  I  was  not  concerned  at  first,  but  the  constant  negative  reports  were  beginning  to  wear  on   Eleanor  and  her  parents.  During  my  volunteer  time,  I  was  curious  to  see  what  was  happening.    Kids  were   indeed  moving  up  and  down  the  chart,  but  not  Eleanor.    She  was  staying  in  the  “naughty”  region,  unable   to  clip  up  the  chart  in  the  area  where  the  “good  kids”  ended  their  day.       One  incident  in  particular  sums  up  Eleanor’s  inability  to  have  the  same  fluidity  of  movement  on  the   behavioral  chart:  At  the  end  of  a  lesson,  the  children  were  told  to  finish  their  work  and  put  their  name  at   the  top,  put  their  pencils  away,  push  in  their  chairs  and  come  to  the  rug  for  story  time.    The  first  several   children  who  sat  on  the  rug  were  told  to  “clip  up”  on  the  behavioral  chart.    While  the  first  child  got  to   the  rug,  Eleanor  had  just  processed  the  complete  set  of  directions  and  was  putting  her  name  on  her   paper.    She  did  not  do  anything  wrong,  nor  did  she  get  in  trouble  for  taking  a  long  time,  but  she  also  did   not  have  the  opportunity  to  clip  up.    Eleanor’s  daily  “naughty  reports”  were  not  necessarily  because  she   was  behaving  worse  than  her  peers,  she  was  simply  missing  opportunities  to  clip  up.       Invisible  Disability,  Visible  Implications:  Eleanor’s  Story   Talya  Drescher   Allies  for  Education  2018,  2,  1   https://journals.library.csuci.edu/ojs/index.php/afe     In  the  cases  of  the  behavioral  chart  and  on  the  playground,  Eleanor  was  left  to  feel  less  than  adequate  in   relation  to  her  peers.    The  chart  was  on  display  in  the  classroom  for  children  and  parents  to  see  just  as   her  athletic  skills  were  on  display  on  the  yard.    When  I  attended  school  events  or  birthday  parties,  I   often  overheard  other  parents  talking  about  the  “behavioral  problems”  of  the  classroom—Eleanor  being   one  of  those  problems.       A  few  months  ago,  Eleanor  received  a  diagnosis  of  ADHD  (Attention  Deficit  Hyperactivity  Disorder)  from   the  pediatrician  and  the  family  had  their  first  IEP  (Individualized  Education  Plan)  meeting  shortly   thereafter.    The  family  shared  the  reports  with  me  after  the  meeting  and  as  predicted,  Eleanor’s   relatively  high  achievement  scores  did  not  qualify  her  as  a  student  with  a  learning  disability  (because  it   does  not  “adversely  affect  her  academic  performance”)  although  it  was  clear  that  she  has  a  large   discrepancy  between  her  auditory  and  visual  processing  abilities.    I  contemplated  encouraging  Eleanor’s   family  to  fight  the  good  fight  to  get  her  special  education  services  due  to  the  ADHD  diagnosis  but  it  was   clear  that  the  battle  would  be  uphill  and  I  was  not  sure  that  the  services  she  would  have  been  granted   would  actually  be  beneficial  in  the  short  run.    Had  Eleanor  qualified  for  an  IEP,  she  would  have  likely   been  pulled  out  of  her  class  for  part  of  the  school  day  for  academic  support  and/or  instruction.    It  was   clear  from  her  grades  and  testing  results  that  she  was  in  fact  making  academic  progress,  so  that  type  of   support  did  not  seem  beneficial.    Because  of  the  ADHD  diagnosis,  she  did,  however,  qualify  for  a  504   plan  which  granted  her  the  ability  to  take  tests  in  a  small  group  setting  with  extra  time;  an   accommodation  that  an  IEP  would  have  also  afforded.    For  the  moment,  the  504  plan  suffices  and  the   family  will  have  the  opportunity  to  revisit  the  IEP  if  needed  in  the  future.   Luckily,  this  year  Eleanor  is  in  a  class  with  a  strong,  compassionate  teacher  and  is  happily  making   academic  progress.    I  do  know  that  it  is  probable  that  as  she  gets  older  and  school  becomes  more   challenging  her  social  and  behavioral  challenges  are  likely  to  increase.    I  suppose  we  will  have  to  wait   and  see.  I  have  learned  that  as  a  mother  and  friend,  I  am  not  good  at  waiting  especially  because  in  this   case  I  feel  like  we  are  waiting  for  Eleanor  to  fail  academically  and  socially.   Watching  Eleanor  and  her  family  go  through  this  process  has  been  difficult,  partly  because  I  know  that   we  do  not  always  have  systems  and  structures  in  place  for  children  who  match  Eleanor’s  profile.     Eleanor  and  children  like  her  are  smart,  interested  in  learning  and  desire  to  be  accepted  by  peers.    I   encourage  readers  to  reconsider  some  commonly  found  classroom  and  school  practices  such  as  public   displays  of  behavior  and  academic  progress.    In  Eleanor’s  case,  the  “clip  chart”  was  a  no-­‐win  situation   ultimately  resulting  in  public  shaming;  I  can  assure  you,  she  is  not  alone.    I  am  confident  that  in  every   school,  a  number  of  “Eleanors”  are  affected  by  hidden  disabilities.    Watching  Eleanor’s  story  unfold  has   changed  the  way  I  view  teaching,  learning,  and  parenting.    I  hope  that  as  a  result  of  sharing  this  story   teachers  and  parents  will  gain  perspective  and  a  new  understanding  of  potential  implications  of  some   more  routine  classroom  practices.   About  the  Author   Dr.  Talya  Drescher  is  an  Assistant  Professor  of  Special  Education  at  California  State  University,  Channel   Islands.  She  has  over  a  decade  of  experience  as  a  K-­‐12  special  educator  in  Los  Angeles  area  public   schools.  Her  areas  of  research  include  co-­‐teaching  in  pre-­‐service  programs  and  the  use  of  mixed  reality   simulation  in  post-­‐secondary  education.  Contact  Dr.  Drescher  at  talya.drescher@csuci.edu   Invisible  Disability,  Visible  Implications:  Eleanor’s  Story   Talya  Drescher   Allies  for  Education  2018,  2,  1   https://journals.library.csuci.edu/ojs/index.php/afe     References   Estell,  D.  B.,  Jones,  M.  H.,  Pearl,  R.,  Van  Acker,  R.,  Farmer,  T.  W.,  &  Rodkin,  P.  C.  (2008).  Peer  groups,   popularity,  and  social  preference:  Trajectories  of  social  functioning  among  students  with  and  without   learning  disabilities.  Journal  of  Learning  Disabilities,  41(1),  5–14.     Kavale,  K.  A.,  &  Mostert,  M.  P.  (2004).  Social  skills  interventions  for  individuals  with  learning  disabilities.   Learning  Disability  Quarterly,  27(1),  31–43.     Nowicki,  E.  A.  (2012).  Intergroup  evaluations  and  norms  about  learning  ability.  Social   Development,  21(1),  130-­‐149.   Nowicki,  E.  A.,  Brown,  J.,  &  Stepien,  M.  (2014).  Children’s  thoughts  on  the  social  exclusion  of  peers  with   intellectual  or  learning  disabilities.  Journal  of  Intellectual  Disability  Research,  58(4),  346–357.     Vaughn,  S.,  Elbaum,  B.,  &  Boardman,  A.  G.  (2001).  The  social  functioning  of  students  with  learning   disabilities:  implications  for  inclusion.  Exceptionality,  9(1),  47–65.