Special Teaching For Special Children - A Pedagogy For Inclusion - (Inclusive Education) (PDFDrive)

I n cl u s i v e E d u c a t i o n
SPECIAL TEACHING FOR SPECIAL CHILDREN? series editors: Gary Thomas and Christine O’Hanlon
pedagogies for inclusion
What, if anything, is ‘special’ about teaching children with special or
SPECIAL TEACHING FOR SPECIAL CHILDREN?

exceptional learning needs? This book addresses this question, looking
at pupils’ special learning needs – including low attainment, learning
difficulties, language difficulties, emotional and behavioural problems
and sensory needs.
SPECIAL
Some special needs groups (for example, dyslexia) have argued
strongly for the need for particular specialist approaches. In contrast,
many proponents of inclusion have argued that ‘good teaching is good
TEACHING
teaching for all’ and that all children benefit from similar approaches.
Both positions fail to scrutinize this issue rigorously and coherently, and
it is this aspect which distinguishes this book.
FOR SPECIAL
Leading researchers in key special needs fields critique and defend a
conceptual analysis of teaching strategies used with particular learner CHILDREN?
groups with special educational needs. The book covers deafness;
visual impairment; deaf blindness; severe learning difficulties; profound
and multiple learning difficulties; Down's Syndrome; English as an
a pedagogies for inclusion
additional language and speech, language and communication
difficulties; autistic spectrum disorders; AD/HD; dyslexia; dyspraxia; Edited by
social, emotional and behavioural difficulties; moderate learning
difficulties; mixed difficulties.Summaries by the editors after each
chapter link pedagogic strategies, knowledge and curriculum to key
ANN LEWIS
points from the chapter and pave the way for discussion. BRAHM NORWICH
This book is indispensable reading for students, policy makers,
researchers and professionals in the field of special educational needs
and inclusion.
Ann Lewis is Professor of Special Education and Educational

Psychology at the University of Birmingham. Her publications include
Researching Children’s Perspectives (Open University Press, 2000),
Children's Understanding of Disability (1995) and Working with
Children with Special Needs in the Primary School (2005).
Brahm Norwich is Professor of Educational Psychology and Special

Educational Needs at the University of Exeter. His publications include
Psychology and Education in Interaction: working with uncertainty in
LEWIS AND NORWICH
connected fields (2000) and Moderate Learning Difficulties and the

Future of Inclusion (2004).
cover design: Kate Prentice
ISBN 0-335-21405-3
9 780335 214051
SPECIAL TEACHING FOR
SPECIAL CHILDREN?
Series Editors:
Gary Thomas, Chair in Education, Leeds University, and
Christine O’Hanlon, School of Education, University of East Anglia.
The movement towards inclusive education is gathering momentum

throughout the world. But how is it realized in practice? The volumes within
this series will examine the arguments for inclusive schools and the evidence
for the success of inclusion. The intention behind the series is to fuse a discus-
sion about the ideals behind inclusion with the pictures of inclusion in prac-
tice. The aim is to straddle the theory/practice divide, keeping in mind the
strong social and political principles behind the move to inclusion while
observing and noting the practical challenges to be met.
Current and forthcoming titles:

Shereen Benjamin: The Micropolitics of Inclusive Education
Christine O’Hanlon: Educational Inclusion as Action Research
Ann Lewis and Brahm Norwich: Special Teaching for Special Children?
Caroline Roaf: Co-ordinating Services for Included Children
David Skidmore: Inclusion: The Dynamic of School Development
Gary Thomas and Andrew Loxley: Deconstructing Special Education and
Constructing Inclusion
Gary Thomas and Mark Vaughan: Inclusive Education – A Reader
Carol Vincent: Including Parents?
SPECIAL TEACHING
FOR SPECIAL
CHILDREN?
Pedagogies for inclusion
Ann Lewis and

Brahm Norwich
Open University Press

Open University Press
McGraw-Hill Education
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First published 2005
Copyright © Ann Lewis and Brahm Norwich 2005
All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes
of criticism and review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic,
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A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 0 335 21405 3 (pb) 0 335 21406 1 (hb)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

CIP data has been applied for
Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk

Printed in the UK by MPG Books Ltd, Bodmin, Cornwall
Acknowledgements
Our thanks to Lin Walsh for her tolerance and efficiency in working good-
humouredly on the manuscript and keeping track of all the minutiae
associated with this project.
We are also grateful to the British Educational Research Association (BERA)

who funded the review (1999–2000) which evolved into the collaborative
venture described here.
Finally, our thanks to the National Association for Special Educational Needs
(NASEN) which, in inviting each of us to speak in 1998 at a seminar on SEN
policy, provided the kernel for the development of ideas aired there.
Contents
Contributors ix
Series editors’ preface xi
Preface xiii
ONE How specialized is teaching pupils with disabilities

and difficulties? 1
Brahm Norwich and Ann Lewis
TWO Deafness 15
Sue Gregory
THREE Visual impairment 26

Graeme Douglas and Mike McLinden
FOUR Deafblindness 41
Olga Miller and Liz Hodges
FIVE Severe learning difficulties 53

Jill Porter
SIX Profound and multiple learning difficulties 67

Jean Ware
SEVEN Children with Down’s syndrome 81

Jennifer Wishart
EIGHT English as an additional language and children

with speech, language and communication
needs 96
Deirdre Martin
viii Special teaching for special children?
NINE Autistic spectrum disorders 110

Rita Jordan
TEN AD/HD 123

Paul Cooper
ELEVEN Dyslexia 138

Gavin Read
TWELVE Dyspraxia 150

Madeleine Portwood
THIRTEEN Social, emotional and behavioural difficulties 166

Tim O’Brien
FOURTEEN Moderate learning difficulties 180

Felicity Fletcher-Campbell
FIFTEEN Low attainment 192

Alan Dyson and Peter Hick
SIXTEEN Overview and discussion: overall conclusions 206

Ann Lewis and Brahm Norwich
Index 223
Contributors
Paul Cooper, Professor of Education, Centre for Innovation in Raising

Educational Achievement, University of Leicester, UK.
Graeme Douglas, Research Fellow, School of Education, University of
Birmingham, Birmingham, UK.
Alan Dyson, Professor of Education, Faculty of Education, University of Man-
chester, UK.
Felicity Fletcher-Cambell, Principal Research Officer, Department of Profes-
sional and Curriculum Studies, NFER, UK. UK National Coordinator, European
Agency for Development in Special Needs Education.
Susan Gregory, Consultant, previously Senior Lecturer in Hearing Impairment,
School of Education, University of Birmingham, UK.
Liz Hodges, Lecturer, School of Education, University of Birmingham,
Birmingham, UK.
Rita Jordan, Professor in Autism Studies, School of Education, University of
Ann Lewis, Professor of Special Education and Educational Psychology, School
of Education, University of Birmingham, Birmingham, UK.
Mike McLinden, Lecturer, School of Education, University of Birmingham,
Birmingham, UK.
Deirdre Martin, Senior Lecturer, School of Education, University of
Olga Miller, Course Leader, Disabilities of Sight, Institute of Education,
University of London, London, UK.
x Special teaching for special children?
Brahm Norwich, Professor of Educational Psychology and Special Educational

Needs, School of Education and Lifelong Learning, University of Exeter,
Exeter, UK.
Tim O’Brien, Consultant in the area of EBD, UK.
Jill Porter, School of Education, University of Birmingham, Birmingham, UK.
Madeleine Portwood, Senior Educational Psychologist, Durham LEA; Dyspraxia
Foundation Trustee, Chair of the Education Committee, UK.
Gavin Reid, Senior Lecturer, Faculty of Education, University of Edinburgh,
Edinburgh, UK.
Jean Ware, Director of Special Education, St Patrick’s College, Dublin, Ireland.
Jennifer Wishart, Professor of Special Education, Moray House School of
Education, University of Edinburgh, Scotland, UK.
Series editors’ preface
‘Inclusion’ has become something of an international buzzword. It is difficult

to trace its provenance or the growth in its use over the last two decades, but
what is certain is that it is now de rigeur for policy documents, mission state-
ments and political speeches. It has become a slogan – almost obligatory in the
discourse of all right-thinking people.
The problem about the sloganising of ‘inclusion’ is that the word has
become often merely a filler in the conversation. People can talk about ‘inclu-
sion’ without really thinking about what they mean, merely to add a progres-
sive gloss to what they are saying. Politicians who talk casually about the need
for a more inclusive society know that they will be seen as open-minded and
enlightened, and will be confident in the knowledge that all sorts of difficult
practical questions can be circumvented. And if this happens, if there is in-
sufficient thought about the nitty gritty mechanics, those who do work hard
for inclusion can easily be dismissed as peddling empty promises.
This series is dedicated to examining in detail some of the ideas lying behind
inclusive education. Inclusion, much more than ‘integration’ or ‘main-
streaming’, is embedded in a range of contexts – political and social as well
as psychological and educational – and our aim in this series is to make
some examination of these contexts. In providing a forum for discussion and
critique we hope to help provide the basis for a wider intellectual and practical
foundation for more inclusive practice in schools and elsewhere.
In noting that inclusive education is about more than simply ‘integration’, it
is important to stress that inclusive education is really about extending the
comprehensive ideal in education. Those who talk about it are therefore less
concerned with children’s supposed ‘special educational needs’ (and it is
becoming increasingly difficult meaningfully to define what such needs are)
and more concerned with developing an education system in which equity is
striven for and diversity is welcomed. To aim for such developments is surely
uncontentious; what is more controversial is the means by which this is done.
There are many and varied ways of helping to develop more inclusive schools
xii Special teaching for special children?
and the books of this series – and in particular this book edited by Ann Lewis
and Brahm Norwich – examine some of these. While one focus in this has to be
on the place and role of the special school, it is by no means the only focus: the
thinking and practice which go on inside and outside schools may do much to
exclude or marginalise children. The authors of this series try to give serious
attention to such thinking and practice.
The books in this series therefore examine a range of matters: the knowledge
of special education; the frames of analysis which have given legitimacy to
such knowledge; the changing political mood which inspires a move to inclu-
sion. In the context of all this, they also examine some new developments in
inclusive thinking and practice inside and outside schools.
Special Teaching for Special Children?: Pedagogies for Inclusion tackles the con-
troversial issue of whether there are particular teaching approaches that suit
children with particular learning needs. Some researchers have claimed that
there are few if any special approaches that have been shown to be more
effective than others for children with difficulties. It is also claimed that the
supposed existence of such approaches further marginalizes and excludes
children with difficulties. However, there are patently better and worse ways of
teaching children who have discrete and identifiable difficulties – for example,
methods for children with restricted vision and hearing – and if this is the
case the argument can be extended to children with more complex or less
easily identifiable difficulties. It is essential for teachers to have the evidence
available to them on the effectiveness and practical use of such methods if
inclusion is to succeed.
It is sometimes argued that mainstream teachers do not have available to
them the skills necessary for teaching children with specific or complex dif-
ficulties. What this book demonstrates is that there are avenues that can be
followed and methods that can be tried – in short, special pedagogies – that
may help teachers and their assistants to include the broadest possible range of
children in their classes. Ann Lewis and Brahm Norwich are expert in the field
of special pedagogy and they and their contributors have made an important
contribution to this series in this book.
Gary Thomas
Christine O’Hanlon
Series Editors
Preface
This book reflects a collaborative project in which the exchange of ideas and
materials between contributors has been far greater than in a conventional
‘edited’ book. This integrated approach was evident from an early stage when
the draft chapter 1 was circulated to all contributors for comment. It was also
the focus of a seminar to explore with contributors the underlying ideas and
rationale. Our summaries are inserted after each chapter to reference this ini-
tial framework to key points from the chapter. As writing progressed, contribu-
tors exchanged draft material and attended a seminar to explore initial
positions, thus strengthening the dialogue across chapters. The summaries
scaffold the final chapter, which was also circulated in draft to contributors.
This approach reflects an ethos suited to the times, the field, the issue and the
expertise.
The challenge to contributors was to present, defend and critique a con-
ceptual analysis of the specificity or otherwise of teaching used with particular
special educational needs learner groups. One justification for this approach is
in the importance of sustaining and increasing the professionalization of
teachers and related professionals specializing in special needs. This is vital in a
climate in which there is a tendency for special educational needs (SEN) to be
marginalized, or subsumed, and to be the focus of apology rather than intel-
lectual curiosity. The range of staff working, in schools and other settings, with
children identified as having special educational needs has broadened over the
past decade to include groups (e.g. teaching assistants) without (usually)
extensive specialized training related to SEN. Thus there are strong pressures to
produce practical tips for these workers and while there is a place for these,
without also a sound conceptual base the worker has no systematic and coher-
ent basis for discerning the relative value of a plethora of tips and packages.
Leaders in schools, researchers and policy-makers need robust reference
points.
The genesis of this book was in papers given in response to a major
UK government discussion document on provision for pupils with special
xiv Special teaching for special children?
educational needs (Lewis 1998; Norwich 1998) and our subsequent review,
sponsored by the British Educational Research Association, on ‘SEN pedagogy’
(Lewis and Norwich 2000; Norwich and Lewis 2001). The ensuing develop-
ment of ideas has been informed by responses to our dissemination of the
review to practitioners, policy-makers and researchers. This background illus-
trates the power of small, grass roots initiatives in developing ideas and
practice over time, giving space for reflection, the evolution of ideas and the
reference point of an intellectual not a political agenda, fostering a conceptual
integrity.
Universities have a vital role to play in informing, shaping and critiquing
public policy. The latter is the focus of lively debate internationally, as is illus-
trated in responses to Jacoby’s The Last Intellectuals (2000), Posner’s Public
Intellectuals (2001) and O’Neil’s A Question of Trust (2002). The area of special
educational needs is strongly politicized and we contend that academics in
this field should be engaging with policy-makers at regional, national and
international levels. The basis for this engagement has to be a sharply focused
critique, a strong research base, imagination and intellectual independence.
This rationale underpins the approach here as reflected in individual chapters
and the book’s conclusions.
References
DfEE (1997) Excellence for All Children: Meeting SEN. London: DfEE.
Jacoby, R. (2000) The Last Intellectuals. New York: Basic Books.
Lewis, A. (1998) Effective teaching and learning for pupils with SEN, in K. Wedell (ed.)
Future Policy for SEN. Tamworth: NASEN.
Lewis, A. and Norwich, B. (2000) Mapping a Special Educational Needs Pedagogy. Exeter:
University of Exeter and University of Warwick.
Norwich, B. (1998) Aims and principles, in K. Wedell (ed.) Future Policy for SEN.
Tamworth: NASEN.
Norwich, B. and Lewis, A. (2001) A critical review of evidence concerning teaching
strategies for pupils with special educational needs, British Educational Research Journal,
27(3): 313–29.
O’Neil, O. (2002) A Question of Trust. BBC Reith Lectures (http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/
reith2002/).
Posner, R. A. (2001) Public Intellectuals. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
How specialized is teaching
pupils with disabilities
and difficulties?
Brahm Norwich and Ann Lewis
Introduction and background
This book is about one of the most basic and perplexing questions in the
education of learners with disabilities and difficulties: how specialized is the
teaching of this group? The question is challenging because, on one hand, it
calls for a thorough analysis of ‘teaching’, and, on the other, it requires clarity
about how we conceptualize differences in the area of what we call disability
and difficulties (or special educational needs).
The book is timely given the current context of education policy and prac-
tice, both in the UK and abroad. In the USA, the UK and more widely, there are
centrally prescribed curricula which are supposed to be inclusive of those with
disabilities and difficulties. For example, in the USA the requirements of the
IDEA Amendments of 1997 state that pupils with disabilities:
Must be given the opportunity to progress in the same general curriculum

taught to all other students in the public educational system . . . in order
for their involvement to be meaningful, and for the expectation of pro-
gress to be realistic, the curriculum must be made accessible to the stu-
dents. In terms of learning, universal design means the design of
instructional materials and activities that allows the learning goals to be
achievable by individuals with wide differences in their abilities to see,
hear, speak, move, read, write, understand English, attend, organize,
engage, and remember. Universal design for learning is achieved by means
of flexible curricular materials and activities that provide alternatives for
students with disparities in abilities and backgrounds
(Orkwis and McLane 1998)
2 Special teaching for special children?
Such statements reiterate the need for universalizing curricula but stop short
of clarifying the nature, rationale and evidence base for particular modifica-
tions. Such questions have been sidelined by the very powerful concerns
with school-level, not teaching-level, changes required in fostering inclu-
sion. In line with this, an extensive UK government-commissioned review
concerning provision for pupils with special educational needs (Dockrell
et al. 2002) was given a remit reflecting this preoccupation with school, not
teaching, level, modifications. The relevance of this book to the current
interest in inclusive education and schooling is that it goes beyond the usual
focus on school level accommodations for the diversity of learners. If inclu-
sion is about increasing the participation of all learners in mainstream
schools, then it must go beyond general questions of the presence of chil-
dren with special educational needs in such schools, and their social and
learning participation. We need to address questions of classroom teaching
and curriculum in considering inclusion and inclusive practices. This is the
focus of this book.
This book arose from an extensive review and critique of research into teach-
ing approaches used with pupils with different forms of learning difficulties:
low attainment, moderate, specific, severe and profound learning difficulties
(Lewis and Norwich 2000, 2001; Norwich and Lewis 2001). Our review
addressed two questions that are central to fostering effective inclusion:
• First, can differences between learners (by particular special educational
needs group) be identified and systematically linked with learners’ needs for
differential teaching? Many studies have addressed only the first part of this
question.
• Second, what are the key criteria for identifying pedagogically useful learner
groups?
The conventional special educational needs groupings may not be valid or
useful when planning pedagogic strategies. However, even if this is so, there
may still be valid groupings of learners to identify as the base for differential
pedagogy (see below for discussion of this term). In asking whether pupils with
learning difficulties require distinct kinds of pedagogic strategies, we were not
asking about whether these pupils need distinct curriculum objectives. We
were asking whether they need distinct kinds of teaching to learn the same
content as others without learning difficulties. These are important points as
questions about distinct or special pedagogies are also part of wider questions
about whether pupils with learning difficulties need distinct educational pro-
vision. Distinct provision includes pedagogic strategies but also curriculum
objectives, the setting for learning and time availability. We recognized then
that some pupils with learning difficulties take part in programmes that have
distinctive and different curriculum goals (such as the fostering of augmen-
tative or facilitated communication). This was a different focus from our
question concerning differential pedagogies to reach the same curriculum
goals.
How specialized is teaching? 3
Figure 1.1 Pedagogic positions: general versus unique difference positions
Conceptual framework
At the start of that review we formulated a conceptual framework, based on

Norwich (1996), which focused on the commonality–differentiation of peda-
gogy. Three broad kinds of pedagogic need can be identified in this framework:
pedagogic needs common to all learners; pedagogic needs specific or distinct
to groups of learners and pedagogic needs unique to individual learners. We
assumed that pedagogic decisions can be influenced by all three kinds of needs
and that there are two relevant contrasting positions to ‘difference’ that can
be identified using this three-dimensional view about needs: the general
difference and the unique differences positions (see Figure 1.1).
An explanation is required of why these two combinations of the three
forms of need were selected. There are in fact seven distinct ways of combining
these three kinds of needs. Four of these involve specific needs (common,
specific and unique; common and specific; specific and unique; and specific
needs only) and two unique needs (common and unique needs, and unique
needs alone). One involves common needs alone. This leaves us with the two
versions of the general and unique differences positions, shown in Figure 1.1.
We consider that possible positions need to recognize what is unique to indi-
viduals as well as what is common to all. Therefore all combinations of the
three forms of need that do not include these two forms are omitted. This
leaves the two combinations that we have called the unique differences
position (common and unique needs) and the general differences position
(common, specific and unique needs).
Figure 1.1 shows that pedagogic decisions and strategies are informed in
both positions by needs that are common to all learners as well as needs that
are unique to individuals. However, in the general differences position
pedagogy is also informed by needs that are specific or distinctive to a group
that shares common characteristics. In this position the specific needs of a
sub-group of those with disabilities and difficulties are in the foreground;
needs that are common to all and unique to individuals, though important,
are more in the background. It is a view favoured by those who recognize
general categories as relevant to pedagogic decisions and strategies, as in the
research tradition of those who have sought aptitude × treatment interactions
(Cronbach and Snow 1977). The historical and current groupings of learners
(e.g. Schonell’s three broad types of ‘backward’ pupils, the 1944 Act’s eleven
categories, Warnock’s (DES 1978) severe, moderate, mild and specific learning
difficulties and the eleven ‘categories of special educational needs’ (DFES
2003)) are such classifications. However, they reflect administrative, place-
ment and resource allocation decision-making and not necessarily categories
of learner characteristics that have pedagogic relevance (see, for example,
Crowther et al. (1998) on the fuzziness of the ‘MLD group’).
The pedagogic relevance of categories of cognitive learning difficulties
might also depend on their association with other kinds of difficulties, e.g.
sensory, motor, emotional, behavioural. However, it may be that more
appropriate categories, perhaps some still to be identified, are more pedagogic-
ally relevant. For example, work in psychoneurology might point to particular
neurological patterns as being (a) distinctive to a sub-group with learning dif-
ficulties and (b) tied to specific intervention or types of pedagogic strategy.
Similarly, some work in the ‘learning styles’ tradition could conceivably point
to a different sort of categorization of learners (‘wholists’, ‘serialists’ etc.) and
one that related much more closely to effective pedagogic strategies than do
the current groupings (Read 1998). This is not to argue for those categories
specifically, but to highlight the possibility that categorization of learners may
be pedagogically helpful even though the delimiting of the categories may yet
be unclear. The general differences position could be held within a more or less
pro-inclusion stance, but it would have implications for teacher training
In the unique differences position, pedagogic decisions and strategies are
informed only by common and individual needs. Unique differences are in the
foreground, with common pedagogic needs more in the background. General
specific needs are not recognized. This is a position which assumes that while
all learners are in one general sense the same, they are also all different. This
means that particular pedagogic strategies are relevant or effective for all
pupils, irrespective of social background, ethnicity, gender and disability. Dif-
ferences between individuals are accommodated within this position, not in
distinct groups or sub-groups, but in terms of the uniqueness of individual
needs and their dependence on the social context. Yet, for this to be so, com-
mon pedagogic needs have to be considered in terms of principles that are
general and flexible enough to enable wide individual variations to be possible
within a common framework. Those who favour a strong inclusive position to
the education of pupils with difficulties or disabilities adopt this view (Bull and
Solity 1987; Ainscow 1991). Indeed, it would be rather odd to claim a common
pedagogy but still argue for separate schooling.
Critique of evidence
In our systematic and evidence-based review we set out to subject the above
assumption concerning the validity of a broadly common curriculum for all
pupils to critical scrutiny. We addressed the question: can differences between
learners (by particular special educational needs group) be identified and sys-
tematically linked with learners’ needs for differential teaching? Generic
teaching effectiveness studies have assumed that what works with most pupils
would also work for all pupils. However, little direct evidence for this position
has been presented in the literature in relation to various areas of learning
difficulties. Similarly, some papers by specialists in the special needs or in-
clusion areas make calls, which are also mostly unsubstantiated by empirical
evidence, for what we called the unique differences position. This rejects
pedagogic strategies distinctive to pupils with special educational needs and
accepts that there are common pedagogic principles which are relevant to the
unique differences between all pupils, including those considered to be desig-
nated as having special educational needs. This position is qualified in our
review by some recognition of the need for more intense and focused teaching
for those with special educational needs.
In our review we have found a trend away from special needs-specific peda-
gogies that emerged in various ways and for the various forms of learning
difficulties. Where we found relevant empirical evidence, this tended to sup-
port the unique differences position, as did more general position pieces and
general studies of teaching effectiveness, which were not based on empirical
evidence. We recognized that the lack of evidence in our review to support
special needs-specific pedagogies might be surprising, as there is a persistent
sense that special education means special pedagogy to many teachers and
researchers. We argued then, and still contend now, that in not finding these
distinctive pedagogies we can take one of two positions. We can hold on to the
hunch that such special pedagogies do exist in these areas of learning difficul-
ties and that the research is failing to identify them, but will do in time. One
option here is to consider that teaching decisions may, in theory, still come to
be based on distinctive pedagogies for these forms of learning difficulties, but
that the bases of the general groups to which they apply have not yet been
identified. More pedagogically relevant groups may be identified in terms of
learning process, such as learning styles (Read 1998), than in terms of the
general definitions (e.g. MLD, SpLD). The other option is that specific
pedagogic strategies apply to other areas of disabilities and difficulties. If what
we have called the general differences position to teaching pupils with spe-
cial educational needs is to be maintained, then it is likely to be along these
lines. It is this line of argument that gave rise to the current book.
‘High density’ teaching: Continua of pedagogic strategies
In our initial review, based on various studies, we concluded that the notion of
continua of teaching approaches would be useful to capture the
appropriateness of more intensive and explicit teaching for pupils with differ-
ent patterns and degrees of learning difficulties. This notion helps to dis-
tinguish between the ‘normal’ adaptations in class teaching for most pupils
and the greater degree of adaptations required for those with more significant
learning difficulties. These are adaptations to common teaching approaches,
and have been called specialized adaptations or ‘high density’ teaching. Such
a position has significant implications for fostering inclusive practice, for
preparing teachers and for more exceptional forms of teaching.
The position we have developed was also consistent with other research,
which shows how pupils with different kinds of learning difficulties are not
provided for adequately in general class teaching. From this review we sug-
gested that there are several facets of teaching where additional emphasis
on common teaching approaches is required depending on the individual
learning needs of those with learning difficulties (see Table 1.1).
In proposing the notion of continua of teaching approaches we are not
suggesting that practical instances of teaching at distant points on the con-
tinua do not look distinct or different. However, teaching that emphasizes
high levels of practice to mastery, more examples of a concept, more error-free
learning, more bottom-up phonological approaches to literacy, for instance, is
not qualitatively different from teaching that involves less emphasis on these
approaches. There is a tendency to want to split the continua into distinct
types, especially for programmes of teaching of pupils at the ends of the con-
tinua of attainments. This tendency is reinforced by the historical separation
of pupils with significant difficulties and disabilities in separate settings and
schools. There can also be professional and parental interests to see the teach-
ing that goes on in these separate settings as distinctive. However, in advocat-
ing a position that assumes continua of common pedagogic strategies based
on unique individual differences, we are not ignoring the possibility that
teaching geared to pupils with learning difficulties might be inappropriate for
average or high attaining pupils. We are questioning the way of representing
teaching approaches as dichotomies, e.g. error-free versus trial and error.
Table 1.1 Provisional framework of continua of pedagogic strategies
Examples of pedagogic Continua of strategies for perceived attainment levels

strategies
High intensity Low intensity
Provide opportunities for Explicit and teacher-led Autonomous (pupil-led)

transfer
Shape task structure Small discrete steps, Larger steps, longer-term
short-term objectives goals emphasized
emphasized
Provide examples to learn Many and varied, but Few examples provided
concepts maximal difference on
single criterion stressed
Provision of practice to Extensive and varied Little
achieve mastery
Provision of task-linked Immediate, frequent, Deferred, moving to self-
feedback explicit, focused, evaluation
extrinsic
Checking for preparedness Explicit and frequent, Fleeting (by the teacher),
for the next stage of teacher monitoring self-monitoring stressed
learning emphasized
Framework for this book
In this book we move from the conclusion of our earlier review to broaden the
focus to a range of ‘SEN’ groups (see Figure 1.2). Arguably, even assuming that
our conclusion was valid for pupils with general learning difficulties, it does
not necessarily hold for other groups of pupils with special educational needs.
Parameters and key concepts
Pedagogy
We have taken pedagogy to mean the broad cluster of decisions and actions
taken in classroom settings that aim to promote school learning (encompass-
ing pedagogic strategies and, more narrowly, teaching actions). Alexander
(2000) and Bennett (1999) discuss, in slightly different ways, the multifac-
toral nature of pedagogy (organization, discourse and values in Alexander’s
typology) and (particularly in Bennett’s model) highlight the interactions
between pedagogical and learning processes. Both slightly under-play the
‘real world’ context of pedagogical decisions. The teacher is having to respond
to many organizational, learning and personal demands; the implementation
of an idealized model of effective pedagogy is thus mediated by many
other demands and considerations. Effective pedagogy is an ideal that the
practicalities of classroom life may threaten or, perhaps, foster in unpredictable
ways.
We are also aware that in focusing on pedagogy there can be a tendency to
ignore that teaching is a concrete activity taking place in particular contexts.
This can lead to the separation of the actions to promote learning from
curriculum aims and objectives (what kind of learning?) and from those being
taught (who is learning?). So, in asking whether pupils with special educational
needs require distinct kinds of pedagogic strategies, we are not asking whether
pupils with special educational needs require distinct curriculum objectives.
We are asking whether they need distinct kinds of teaching to learn the same
content as others without special educational needs. These are important
Figure 1.2 Teaching framework for book

points, as questions about distinct or special pedagogies are only part of wider
questions of whether pupils with special educational needs require distinct
educational provision. Distinct provision includes pedagogic strategies but
also curriculum objectives, the setting for learning and time availability. We
recognize that some pupils with special educational needs take part in pro-
grammes that have distinctive and different curricular goals (such as the foster-
ing of augmentative or facilitated communication). This is a different focus
from our question concerning differential pedagogies to reach the same cur-
ricular goals. Clarity about what is meant by pedagogy and curriculum is
important in this book.
Our interpretation of pedagogy excludes:
1 Secondary matters such as budget considerations and staffing issues (e.g.
whether these pupils are taught by support assistants or teachers).
2 Issues about placement (notably ‘segregated’ or ‘integrated’), as we have
taken the position that placement decisions are of secondary relevance
compared with what constitutes effective pedagogy regardless of placement.
3 Teaching actions, as narrowly conceived, such as routinely being present in
the room before pupils enter for a lesson.
4 The labelling or identification of pupils with learning difficulties (e.g. speci-
fication of differences between pupils with mild or moderate learning
difficulties).
Area of learning
This book sets out to examine effective pedagogy in generic terms; that is, we
are interested in evidence about effective pedagogic strategies across curricular
subjects. However, to keep this manageable within the wordage constraints
for each chapter, the evidence base has been confined to literacy and/or
communication, as applicable.
Cultural context
There is an argument (e.g. see contributors to Daniels 2000) that the personal/
social dimension of classroom interactions is distinctively difficult for many
pupils with learning difficulties and that this generates the need for a more
specialized pedagogy. While this position concurs with much professional dis-
course, we were not able in our original review to locate studies categorically
demonstrating that a particular group of learners are uniquely different in this
way. Some writers argue that the organizational culture of the school (for
example, the role of peers or attitudes to atypical behaviours) is a critical
feature of effective pedagogy for particular groups of learners.
Contributors to individual chapters draw variously on these points as well as
broader cultural issues relating to gender, ethnicity and social class, as
appropriate.
Setting
We have focused on pedagogy in the school setting (primary and secondary
school age groups) and have excluded home, nursery, further and adult educa-
tion. This has been done on the grounds of manageability, although we
are also not aware of relevant major studies of effective pedagogy in settings
outside compulsory schooling.
Orientation of this book
We, in response to others’ comments and discussions about our review, posit
the view that we need to conceptualize pedagogic strategies (the focus of our
review) in relation to a wider model of teaching. This needs to incorporate
strategies in relation to knowledge about teaching and knowledge about the
curriculum, as well as knowledge about learners. This conceptual model
assumes that teaching is about how teachers and others help the school learn-
ing process, what strategies and skills they deploy in the process. However, the
model is based on an appreciation that teaching needs to be contextualized
within curriculum and knowledge assumptions.
In the way that pedagogic strategies may be common for some pupils with
special educational needs but not for others, so it may be that the knowledge
base required for teaching may be common for some but not other pupils with
special educational needs. This teaching knowledge base has been seen to
require both knowledge of the curriculum subject area, e.g. mathematics or
personal and social skills, and knowledge of the learning process and the
learners to be taught. It is possible that what is specialist about teaching
exceptional children might be the teachers’ knowledge rather than, or as well
as, their pedagogic strategies and skills. In the case of pupils with unusual or
special educational needs this may depend on specific knowledge about differ-
ent forms of learning difficulties and the processes by which these pupils learn.
So, although pedagogic strategies are not assumed in our framework to be
special or distinct for children with learning difficulties, there may be specific
knowledge about pupils in the exceptional range that is required to apply
common strategies (Lewis and Norwich 2000).
Historically the educational or teaching process has been seen in various
ways, reflecting wider policy and social influences. Prior to the establishment
of the National Curriculum in the UK, teaching was seen from a curriculum
studies perspective (Lawton 1975; Reynolds and Skilbeck 1976). This posi-
tioned teaching as strongly linked to wider philosophical and social decisions
about what was worth learning, how curricula were to be designed and what
functions they served. Thus the place of teaching, as the how of the process,
depended on wider assumptions about the purposes of education. Where the
curriculum was cast as a process towards wider educational and developmental
aims, a process model, the what and how of teaching were seen as strongly
interlinked. Teaching embodied the purposes of education and what was to be
learned.
A contrasting assumption was that the curriculum was about the content of
what was to be learned and this could be distinguished from the means of
supporting the learning of this content, a product or objectives model. The
design of the national curriculum in the UK (as elsewhere) reflects the latter
model, with its primary focus on content in subject areas and on the content
to be learned as separable from the teaching to support the learning process.
This orientation to curriculum design lends itself to asking what are the opti-
mal or more effective forms of teaching to achieve specified learning goals or
outcomes.
The focus on pedagogic strategies in our initial review and the concept of
continua of pedagogic strategies reflect the contemporary assumptions about
common curriculum content (in an inclusive centrally prescribed curriculum),
which can be separated from the teaching means to support attainment of
curriculum targets. This interrelationship between pedagogic strategies and
curriculum orientation is also critical to the central question about specialist
teaching in this book. We assumed in our review of teaching children with
various forms of learning difficulties that teaching is in relation to the core
areas of curriculum of English and mathematics. However, the teaching
framework for this book assumes that as we widen the range and severity of
special educational needs under consideration, what constitutes ‘core’ in the
curriculum might change.
Reference to the contested nature of what is common
This leads to the question of what we mean when we say that there is a com-
mon curriculum for all or an inclusive curriculum. It is useful to distinguish
here between levels and aspects of what we refer to in talking about the
curriculum. Four distinct but related aspects can be identified:
1 General principles and aims for a school curriculum.
2 Areas of worthwhile learning (whether structured in terms of subjects or
not) with their goals and general objectives.
3 More specific programmes of study with their objectives.
4 Pedagogic or teaching practices.
We can achieve greater clarity over the curriculum commonality or difference
issues by considering various options of commonality and difference for these
four aspects. However, we need to emphasize that this is a schematic frame-
work that would not map simply on to the different dimensions and facets of
real world actual curriculum programmes.
Of the five schematic options illustrated in Table 1.2, options 1 and 5
represent complete commonality and difference. Neither option is advocated
in debates and decisions about curriculum as either viable or socially
desirable. Option 2 represents a tendency towards greater commonality where
differentiation is at the pedagogic strategy level, and this could be a difference
of degree in continua of common strategies or a difference of kind. The
National Curriculum in its original 1988 version reflected elements of option 2
Table 1.2 Different options for clarifying the curriculum commonality–

difference issue
Option Aims/principles Areas of learning Programme Pedagogic strategies

objectives
1 Common Common Common Common

2 Common Common Common Continua of common
strategies or different
strategies
3 Common Common Different Different
4 Common Different Different Different
5 Different Different Different Different
Source: based on Norwich (1991).
more than the other options. Options 3 and 4, by contrast, represent a greater
tendency towards differentiation in more structural levels of the curriculum.
Not only is pedagogy different but programme objectives and areas of learn-
ing might be different for some pupils with special educational needs. For
them commonality is preserved at the level of general aims and principles,
such as those embodied in the Inclusive Statement in the English National
Curriculum of 2000:
1 Setting suitable learning challenges.
2 Responding to pupils’ diverse learning needs.
3 Overcoming potential barriers to learning.
Another facet of the commonality–difference question in relation to peda-
gogic strategies in a curriculum context is the nature of curriculum goals when
they are different for some pupils with special educational needs. This refers to
design options 3 and 4 in Table 1.2, where some areas of learning and/or
programme objectives may be different for some pupils. There is a tradition in
special education in which what is special about special education is the spe-
cialized nature of the areas of learning and the programme objectives within
these areas. Specialized areas and objectives have tended to focus on the
learner’s difficulties either to circumvent them or to reduce them fully or
to some extent. These programmes might not be constructed within a
discourse of curriculum planning and may not be presented as educational
interventions, even though they involve teaching/instruction and learning
processes. This is at the uncertain interface between teaching and therapeutic
interventions that are learning based.
Table 1.3 illustrates three broad kinds of specialized programmes depending
on the kinds of goals: accepting, circumventing or reducing functional dif-
ficulties. Recognizing this variety of goals and programmes does not imply any
acceptance that the programmes are effective or viable. The point of this
analysis is to broaden notions of curriculum scope beyond the traditional
focus on basic educational skills or core subject areas. It also elaborates on the
possible kinds of differentiation or adaptation of pedagogic strategies that
Table 1.3 Hypothesized relationships between curriculum specialization and

pedagogic adaptations
Curriculum areas and programme objectives
Common to all Specialized for some
Pedagogic A. That accept learners’ B. That aim to C. That aim to

adaptations perceived strengths and circumvent reduce perceived
difficulties (possible perceived difficulties
target group(s) in difficulties (possible means in
parentheses) parentheses)
Adapt instructional Learn alternative Reduce difficulty/
presentation and learner communication/ disability
response modes (sensory mobility access (instrumental
and motor impairments) systems (sign enrichment for
systems, spatial cognitive
orientation, Braille disabilities); self-
etc.) control
programmes for
ADHD etc.)
Adapt level of learning Restore function
objectives (cognitive (reading recovery
disabilities) for literacy
Adapt social emotional difficulties)
climate and
relationships of
teaching-learning
(emotional and
behaviour difficulties)
would be found in curriculum design option 2 (see table 1.2, p. 11). Where
there are common principles, areas of learning and programmes objectives
(option 2), and pedagogic strategies are assumed to need adaptation, these
might be of three kinds, following the analysis of the Warnock Report (DES
1978). As Table 1.3 shows, these are adaptations of instructions presentation
and response modes, of level of learning objectives and of social–emotional
climate and relationships in teaching.
So, teaching has been conceptualized in this book as involving the inter-
action of pedagogic strategies, curriculum and teachers’ knowledge. The issue
of commonality–specialization arises in each element, along with other
important aspects. Teachers’ knowledge is about the curriculum area and the
learners and learning processes. Issues about curriculum models – process ver-
sus product models – and balance between areas for learning are also relevant
to the commonality–specialization issue. The framework makes it possible to
conceptualize the variety and complexity of specialized goals where these may
be judged to be effective and viable. It also addresses the grey area where
conventional school teaching interfaces with therapeutic interventions that

are learning based.
Format of the book
The structure of the book is based on the various special needs groups for
whom a case might or might not be made for ‘SEN-specific’ pedagogic strat-
egies reflecting a specialized knowledge base in the context of specialised cur-
riculum. The purpose of the book is to subject to critical review possible claims
about the nature, role and extent of specialization in teaching children and
young people with a range of special educational needs. These reviews and
critiques are by leading workers within each of the identified fields. The chapters
contain in-depth specialist knowledge as well as a robust critique of that
material. Each chapter addresses the general questions posed in the book, and
outlined in more detail in this chapter, by focusing on pedagogic strategies in
their interactions with teaching knowledge and curriculum design. This
includes:
1 Defining and describing the focal pupil group, including prevalence data.
2 Commenting critically on the group category or categories and their
relationships with other groups.
3 Discussing pedagogic strategies in relation to:
(a) Communication/literacy area of learning.
(b) Other relevant curriculum design issues and/or curriculum areas.
(c) The unique difference versus group difference positions in relation to a
and b.
(d) The origins of these approaches.
(e) Underlying principles of the teaching/learning strategies.
(f) Critique of empirical evaluation evidence of the pedagogic strategies.
(g) Overall evaluations of teaching practices.
4 Discussing teaching knowledge claims for the focal pupil group as common
or distinct.
5 Placing this within an international context.
6 Identifying the potential for research and development in the field.
We have provided chapter summaries following each chapter to help the
reader through the material and pave the way for our concluding discussion
(Chapter 16).
References
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Alexander, R. J. (2000) Culture and Pedagogy: International Comparisons in Primary
Education. Oxford: Blackwell.
Bennett, N. (1999) Research on teaching–learning processes. Theory into practice: prac-
tice into theory. Eighteenth Vernon-Wall lecture. British Psychological Society.
Bull, S. and Solity, J. (1987) Classroom Management: Principles to Practice. London: Croom
Helm.
Carpenter, B. (1997) The interface between the curriculum and the Code, British Journal
of Special Education, 24(1): 18–20.
Cronbach, L. J. and Snow, R. E. (1977) Aptitudes and Instructional Methods: A Handbook for
Research on Interactions. New York: Irvington Publishers.
Crowther, D., Dyson, A. and Millward, A. (1998) Costs and Outcomes for Pupils with
Moderate Learning Difficulties in Special and Mainstream Schools. Research Report RR89.
London: DfEE.
Daniels, H. (ed) (2000) Special Education Re-formed: Beyond Rhetoric? London: Falmer.
DES (1978) Special Educational Needs (The Warnock Report). London: HMSO
DfES (2003) Data Collection by Type of Special Educational Needs. London: HMSO.
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with Special Educational Needs. London: Audit Commission.
Fish, J. (1989) What Is Special Education? Milton Keynes: Open University Press.
Lawton, D. (1975) Class, Culture and the Curriculum. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Lewis, A. and Norwich, B. (2000) Is there a distinctive special educational needs
pedagogy?, in Specialist Teaching for Special Educational Needs. Tamworth: NASEN.
Lewis, A. and Norwich, B. (2001) A critical review of systematic evidence concerning
distinctive pedagogies for pupils with difficulties in learning, Journal of Research in
Special Educational Needs, 1(1): 1–13.
Norwich, B. (1991) Reappraising Special Needs Education. London: Cassell.
Norwich, B. (1996) Special needs education, inclusive education or just education for
all?, Inaugural lecture, Institute of Education, University of London.
Norwich, B. and Lewis, A. (2001) A critical review of evidence concerning pedagogic
strategies for pupils with special educational needs, British Educational Research Journal,
27(3): 313–29.
Orkwis, R. and McLane, K. (1998) A curriculum every student can use: design principles
for student access. ERIC/OSEP Topical Brief. Reston, VA: ERIC/OSEP Special Project.
Read, G. (1998) Promoting inclusion through learning style, in C. Tilstone, L. Florian
and R. Rose (eds) Promoting Inclusive Practice. London: Routledge.
Reynolds, J. and Skilbeck, M. (1976) Culture and the Classroom. London: Open Books.
Deafness
Susan Gregory
For children, a major impact of deafness is on the ability to acquire, use and
overhear spoken language and this has significant consequences for educa-
tion. However, deaf pupils constitute a diverse group. As well as general factors
relating to gender, ethnicity, socio-economic status and family structure, there
are specific factors relating to personality, cognition and other abilities. They
also differ with respect to their deafness, which can vary depending on the
extent of the hearing loss, the type of hearing loss, whether the loss is perman-
ent or fluctuating, whether it is bilateral or unilateral and whether it is
congenital or acquired at a later age.
For the purpose of this chapter, attention is focused on those with permanent
bilateral loss of a moderate degree or greater, which is an average hearing loss of
greater then 40 dB in the better ear. The conventional classifications for this
group are profoundly deaf, severely deaf or moderately deaf (British Association
of Teachers of the Deaf 1997). It is estimated that 53 per cent of deaf pupils have
a moderate loss, 21 per cent a severe loss and 25 per cent a profound loss
(Fortnum et al. 2002). It would be possible to include in this chapter the group
with lesser, acquired, unilateral or fluctuating losses. However, it is almost
always assumed that unless there are additional difficulties (or particular
severity such as that associated with acquired hearing loss due to meningitis)
these pupils will cope in mainstream education with little or no support
and share the same approach and follow the same curriculum as hearing
pupils.
In 1998, in a survey of provision for deaf and hearing-impaired pupils in
England, the number of pupils notified was 12,063, of whom 30 per cent had
an additional disability in that they were educated in special provision other
than that intended for deaf children. Seventy-five percent of the total, or
89 per cent of those without additional disabilities, were being educated in
mainstream schools (BATOD 2000).
A specialist knowledge base
The need for a particular pedagogy for this specific and distinct group has
generally been seen as a function of the particular characteristics of deaf
children, the main ones being the need for audiological support, and factors
relating to language development, communication and pattern of cognitive
abilities. These are usually described by reference to the knowledge, skills and
understanding required by teachers of deaf pupils. In Europe there have been
specialist teachers of the deaf since at least the eighteenth century and a
discrete qualification has existed in the UK since 1885.
Major elements of the skills perceived as needed by teachers of the deaf are
competence in the assessment of hearing loss plus an understanding of, and
ability to explain, audiograms and the numerical representations of hearing
loss. Teachers of the deaf need to understand the effect of losses of different
degrees and in different frequencies. Some pupils will have an equivalent loss
across the frequencies needed to hear speech, while others will have greater
losses in some frequencies compared with others, greater losses in the higher
frequencies being particularly common.
Various types of technological support can be given to deaf pupils, the
main ones being hearing aids, both digital and analogue. Cochlear implan-
tation is a surgical intervention that improves the ability to hear and
requires special understanding about the nature and effects of the implant.
Teachers also need skill in understanding and managing the acoustic
environment in order to optimize the conditions for learning and teaching.
In addition to understanding issues of audiology and technology, teachers of
the deaf need to be able to communicate about hearing loss, technological
support and environmental modifications to parents, other teachers and
pupils.
The inability to hear, or to hear as well as others, results in difficulties in
acquiring spoken language and a need for extra attention to be given to lan-
guage acquisition. Deaf pupils differ from those with speech and language
difficulties (see Chapter 8) as deafness is not a difficulty with language acquisi-
tion itself and virtually all deaf children can easily acquire sign language. Some
deaf children acquire and use sign language as a first or preferred language.
Deafness can mean that deaf pupils may have a comparatively small spoken
language vocabulary and have difficulty with some syntactical constructions
that can be taken for granted with hearing pupils. In addition, some, but not
all, deaf pupils may find one-to-one interaction using speech problematic, and
their deafness will mean that many will find interacting in group situations
difficult.
Additional consequences of deafness can include a limited access to inci-
dental knowledge, which is typically acquired through taking part in, or over-
hearing, general conversation as well as through incidental learning from the
media. This has parallels with the situation for visually impaired pupils (see
Chapter 3). There can be difficulties in developing literacy skills, due to limited
access to sound and/or spoken language. This will, of course, vary for different
deaf children. Moreover, deaf pupils who use sign language may not experience
Deafness 17
difficulties in the same areas as other deaf children, although there are other
issues for this group.
It is thus suggested that teachers need an understanding of how to facilitate
language development, whether it be spoken or involving the use of signs.
Teaching deaf pupils or supporting those being taught in mainstream class-
rooms also requires an understanding of gaps in knowledge that can occur,
and an ability to understand the need to compensate for these in the edu-
cational context. The need to create and maintain a social context for learning,
where easy access to spoken language cannot be taken for granted, is also
important.
In the UK, deaf pupils are subsumed under the general category of those
with learning difficulties. It on this basis that they are given statements of
special educational need. However, this is in itself controversial, as deafness
does not lead to difficulties in learning per se, and the non-verbal IQ of deaf
people shows the same average intelligence and range of cognitive abilities as
for hearing people (Braden 1994; Maller 2003). However, there can be a dis-
crepancy between language and cognitive ability that needs to be recognized
in the education of deaf pupils.
The debate about the cognitive abilities of deaf pupils has a long history (see,
for example, Marschark 2003) but current thinking suggests that deaf pupils
may function differently in some areas, but that different functioning does not
necessarily mean deficit functioning. While short-term memory and sequen-
tial learning may be particular areas of difficulty, a number of studies have
demonstrated that deaf students who use sign language have enhanced visual
spatial functioning in some domains.
There is a clear assumption in the publications on deaf education that deaf
children require specialist teachers and this has been seen as self-evident. This
is independent of whether deaf children are seen as learning in a similar way to
hearing children or perceived as needing different approaches. However, there
has been little research that has examined the pedagogical basis of deaf educa-
tion or the interventions of teachers of the deaf and evaluated their effective-
ness, although a number of surveys of parents would endorse the value of the
contribution of specialist teachers (see, for example, Powers et al. 1999).
Teaching deaf pupils
A main focus of research in deaf education has been the characteristics of deaf
learners and their attainments. This often includes discussion as to why
attainments are low in particular curriculum areas. There is also a significant
body of work that has compared different language and communication
approaches to the education of deaf pupils. In the past, publications in deaf
education have focused to a large extent on debates on methodology, some
taking a theoretical perspective and some comparing how deaf children per-
form in the various approaches. However, such research studies are almost
inevitably flawed because selection for the different approaches is not random.
This means that the groups of children in each approach cannot be compared.
Language and communication is the critical issue for the education of deaf
pupils. There are a number of educational approaches to take account of the
difficulty that deaf pupils have with acquiring and using spoken language. A
consideration of distinctive pedagogies differs somewhat for approaches based
on English and approaches based on British Sign Language (BSL) as well as
English (sign bilingual approaches). English-based approaches usually
emphasize the similarity between the education of deaf pupils and others, and
follow the same curriculum with the same aims. The involvement of BSL, one
of the family of sign languages, with its own lexicon and syntax, creates par-
ticular issues for education. While working towards the same goals, it acknow-
ledges the need for a different classroom practice, using a different approach to
achieve the same ends. It also recognizes the Deaf community, that group of
deaf people who see themselves as a linguistic and cultural minority group
rather than a disabled group. Sign bilingual approaches encourage the
involvement of deaf as well as hearing people, and a recognition of the culture
of deaf people (Gregory 1993).
English-based approaches usually assume a similar pattern of development
as for hearing pupils but with the possibility of some delay. Different degrees
of classroom adaptations are suggested in order to accommodate these pupils.
For example, with audiological support it may be assumed that with adequate
hearing aids and the use of radio aids in the classroom, the pupils will cope
with little additional support. However, it may be that class teachers need to
adapt their practice: for example, always facing the class when talking, provid-
ing visual support for learning and perhaps providing handouts for lessons
(Watson et al. 1999). For some pupils withdrawal from some lessons may be
necessary and/or the provision of communication support in the classroom
may be necessary. While this may meet curriculum needs, it has consequences
for social needs and peer group learning (Edwards and Messer 1987).
Sign bilingualism is based on the idea that, as deaf children have difficulty in
accessing spoken language, they should be given the opportunity to acquire
sign language to give them a rich language for access to the curriculum and as
the basis for the development of English (or their appropriate language). The
relative use of the two languages (such as English and BSL) differs in different
programmes but an essential feature is that each language is recognized as
distinct and used differently. There are several reasons for this: two languages
are involved, because English is often taught as a second language, and
because BSL, like other sign languages, does not have a written form, this
approach emphasizes the different needs of deaf children in particular ways
with implications for pedagogy.
While the goals of education for English- and sign-based approaches are for
the most part similar, they differ in social aspects. Sign bilingual approaches
emphasize pupil self-esteem, the valuing of deafness and sign language, and a
recognition of the unique and distinctive deaf culture (Pickersgill and Gregory
1998). English-based approaches see participation and integration into the
hearing world as paramount.
The dominant educational approach to the education of deaf children is
based on speaking and listening. This is achieved by exploiting the child’s
Deafness 19
hearing through the use of effective and appropriate hearing aids (or a coch-
lear implant), through developing listening skills and providing a facilitative
environment for the development of spoken language. This is known as the
aural–oral approach, although it takes a number of different forms (Watson
1998). The proportion of children being educated using this approach is 68 per
cent (Fortnum et al. 2002).
A further English-based approach uses signs from BSL together with spoken
English. Critically, this is thus an English- rather than BSL-based approach. It is
generally known as Sign Supported English (SSE) and retains English word
order while providing extra information about the communication in addi-
tion to speech. It is difficult to state how many pupils are educated using SSE
as they are subsumed within the category of ‘total communication’, which is
used with 27 per cent of pupils, of whom some will be using SSE.
A small proportion of children (3 per cent) are educated through a specific-
ally sign bilingual approach, although the group probably involves a larger
proportion of pupils than this as some children in total communication
programmes will be using BSL within their education.
Literacy
Literacy is a topic that receives the most attention of all curriculum areas in
deaf education. Much of the published research confirms that deaf children are
behind in their reading and writing compared with hearing pupils. The land-
mark study was probably that of Conrad (1979), who tested all deaf school
leavers (aged 16 years) and found a median reading age of nine years. Later
studies have been smaller in scale but have basically confirmed a significant
delay, although with some suggestion that it is less now than in 1979 (Powers
et al. 1998).
The literature contains extensive discussion as to why deaf children should
perform badly in reading, together with suggestions for improving reading
skills. The reasons suggested for poor performance can be seen in top-down as
well as bottom-up skills. Both limited language competence and poorer under-
standing of the nature of story are seen as making it difficult to predict the next
word or phrase. However, word building skills can also be limited by poor
phonological awareness.
A study that looked at teaching reading was that of Wood and his colleagues
(1986). One of the team, Pat Howarth, recorded deaf children reading to their
teacher at school. She then identified hearing pupils in other schools who were
reading the same reading book and recorded them too. The study showed that,
on average, deaf children were interrupted more frequently than hearing chil-
dren, and that many more breaks with hearing children included an element
of praise than did those for deaf children. Interruptions for hearing children
were most often to clarify phoneme–grapheme correspondence, and it was
assumed that the child knew the words and syntactic structures, whereas for
deaf children the stops were to teach the meanings of words. Thus reading
for deaf children also involved language teaching, while the necessary
language ability could be assumed for hearing children. The reading rate for
deaf children was 20 words per minute compared with 64 words per minute for
hearing children. Based on this study, the team concluded that the experience
of learning to read is very different for deaf and for hearing children, and that
the teacher performs a different function.
Gregory (1998), in a study of the writing of sign bilingual pupils, suggests
that the errors they make often relate to the character of BSL grammar and that
teachers, rather than seeing these as a problem, could use them for a contrast-
ive analysis in developing written English skills (see Chapter 3 concerning
Braille readers). Swanwick (1999), in her comparison of deaf children writing
from a BSL story and a language neutral source (a sequence of pictures),
endorsed this conclusion, but also suggested that a strong first language such
as BSL could facilitate writing skills in the second language, English.
Reading is a particularly useful area to examine in the context of this chap-
ter, as it is an area where deaf children have considerable difficulty but it is also
an area where there are a range of teacher aspirations. These range from getting
deaf children to function as much like hearing pupils as possible to accepting
that deaf children are different and require different approaches. Proponents
of oral methods suggest that this provides the best approach to literacy because
of its similarity to the learning process for hearing pupils. Watson (1998:
99–100) suggests that ‘natural auralists believe that it [oralism] represents the
best opportunity for deaf pupils to learn literacy in a way similar to hearing
children’. However, from a sign bilingual perspective, Knight and Swanwick
(2002: 78) suggest a model that accepts difference and looks at ‘the process of
literacy development from a bilingual perspective and explores the notion
that sign bilingual children approach the learning of literacy with established
sign language skills through which English language skills can be mediated’.
Mathematics
Deaf pupils are behind their hearing counterparts in mathematics, although

the delay is not as great as for literacy skills. Studies vary in the extent to which
they see deaf children as functioning differently mathematically. Wood et al.
(1986), looking at mathematics performance for a large number of deaf school
leavers in oral settings, found that although they were delayed by an average of
three years, their pattern of mistakes was similar to that of hearing pupils. They
found the same problems difficult and they made similar errors. Thus pupils
did not seem to be using different strategies. However, other studies have found
systematic errors in the performance of deaf pupils that can be related, in par-
ticular, to the language used in presenting the problems. For example, Pau
(1995) found a relationship between reading competence in deaf pupils and
their ability to solve mathematical problems. He suggested that problems were
easier if the data and the unknown factors were presented in problems in the
order in which they were used, and thus the presentation was critical.
Sign bilingual approaches present particular issues for mathematics. As with
many curriculum areas, the necessary sign vocabulary does not exist. This
Deafness 21
is not because BSL is unable to address such mathematical concepts: like

any living language it has the potential to evolve and develop. However, the
suppression of sign languages until the 1980s has meant that they were only
used in a limited context, within the Deaf community, and use in educational
settings was rare.
A more basic issue is related to mathematical thinking in sign itself, which
may be different. Nunes and Moreno (1998), in a study of mathematical
development of deaf pupils, showed that in the early stages of computation,
signing and counting may be confusing for deaf children because of the simi-
larities in use of the fingers. However, sign language may also confer advan-
tages because, as a visual–spatial language, it conveys much more information
about mathematical concepts such as size and shape in the ways in which
problems are presented.
Language and interaction
A small number of studies have looked at classroom interaction in English-

based approaches. An influential study was that by Wood et al. (1986), which
looked at teachers’ contribution in classroom interactions in oral settings.
They found that the higher the level of teacher control in interaction – for
example, asking closed questions that demand a particular response – the less
the child’s contribution to the dialogue. They found that teachers could
change their style and become less controlling, gaining greater responses from
pupils. Based on their findings, they suggested that deaf children’s difficulties
might be exacerbated by teachers who were over-controlling. The group
repeated this study with pupils using SSE with similar findings.
Other studies have looked at the interaction of deaf pupils specifically in
mainstream classes. Gregory and Bishop (1989) looked at the strategies the
deaf pupils and teachers employed to maintain the interaction. Pupils would
repeat the last phrase they heard or use standard answers, while teachers
would pretend to understand when they had not, or, in response to a patently
wrong answer, pretend the child was ‘teasing’ them. These strategies probably
function well with hearing children in maintaining interaction but can be
counterproductive for deaf pupils. Hopwood and Gallaway (1999) used a simi-
lar approach (but with only one child) and suggested that when there is a
major discrepancy between the deaf child’s linguistic ability and that of the
rest of the class, the pupil is severely limited in what they can gather from the
lesson. The pupil in this case received essential support by being withdrawn
from some lessons for extra tuition by a teacher of the deaf.
There are fewer studies of the interaction of sign bilingual children in the
classroom. However, Knight and Swanwick (2002), looking at interaction in
classrooms, have analysed the nature of the demands made of pupils in sign
bilingual programmes. Observations of classroom interactions demonstrated
that adults working with sign bilingual pupils switch between English and BSL
with little formal marking, often to maintain communication and interest.
They comment: ‘Learning English in a bilingual context requires the pupils to
move automatically across languages and modes unless the languages are kept
strictly separate, and we have so far seen that this is not practical’ (ibid.: 74).
Thus, in addition to a knowledge of sign language itself, teachers have to be
skilled in the differential use of two languages in the classroom.
How different is the teaching of deaf children? The unique

differences versus group (general) difference position
In terms of the distinctiveness of the group of deaf pupils, opinions differ,

from those who minimize any difference and point to overriding similarities
of deaf and hearing children, to those who see deaf children as significantly
different and requiring different educational procedures. At one level this is
inevitable because of the heterogeneity of the group. Children with lesser
losses can be significantly assisted by hearing aids such that they can cope
in mainstream classrooms, although they may be disadvantaged by poor
acoustics, noisy environments or working in large and lively groups.
English-based approaches exemplify a unique differences position in that they
point to a whole range of different provision to meet educational need.
These include adaptations that can be seen as benefiting all pupils, such as
good acoustics and attention to visual as well as spoken representations of
ideas, or special provision such as communication support in the classroom
and withdrawal.
Although numerically the numbers of deaf children being educated through
a sign bilingual approach are small, they are an important group because they
constitute a clear example of a group difference position. Deaf pupils learning
through sign require a different pedagogy in order to achieve some of the same
goals. They require the use of sign in the classroom, some modified and spe-
cially developed materials and a recognition of different ways of teaching sub-
jects using a visual spatial language, sign language, compared with a linear oral
language, spoken language. In order to achieve a classroom where they are can
participate fully they require the presence of other deaf children and deaf
adults, in recognition that the classroom is a social context for learning, not
simply a teacher–pupil learning situation.
Of course the position is not this clear cut. Where significant changes are
made for pupils using English, such as the introduction of a communication
support assistant in the classroom, issues similar to those for sign bilingual
pupils arise. While the pupils are not using a different language, their access to
English in the classroom situation may be limited, which raises questions
about the extent of their participation with other pupils as well as the teacher,
and their own learning style, which may be more visually based. The distinc-
tion introduced between the two groups may not be as robust as may appear,
and deaf children have both group and unique needs. Thus there is a tension
between the two positions in considering the pedagogical needs of deaf
pupils.
Deafness 23
Potential for research and development in this field
The account of research given in this chapter makes it clear that the majority
of the research in deaf education looks at pupil differences in language,
in learning ability and in access to classroom discourse etc. Relatively little
attention is paid to differences in classroom practice or what happens when
additional support is given. The studies reported here that do focus on class-
room activity would seem to demonstrate that to be an effective teacher of
deaf pupils, special knowledge and skills are necessary. This would suggest a
need for further research that looks at classroom strategies and, in particular,
what constitutes good classroom practice.
Deaf education is undergoing rapid changes. The development of cochlear
implantation means that in developed countries significant numbers of pro-
foundly deaf children will receive implants and thus are likely to function
more as severely deaf pupils, resulting in a greater move towards more aural–
oral approaches. Newborn screening for deafness, resulting in intervention
starting at an earlier age, will also have an impact. However, by contrast, the
recognition of sign languages as full languages and the beginning of bilingual
education has focused attention on the use of sign language in deaf education.
This has been more marked in countries with a flexible attitude to language
learning in general and thus the Scandinavian countries tend to be leaders in
this area, while English-speaking countries lag behind.
The role of teacher of the deaf is also changing, as more deaf pupils are
educated in mainstream schools. For pupils educated through an aural–oral
approach, there is a shift from teaching groups of children to supporting
pupils in mainstream, and often this is done by working with mainstream
teachers and schools rather than individual pupils. It could therefore be
argued that for this group the specialist skills required are not necessarily in
terms of classroom practice but relate to the management of the learning
environment for deaf pupils.
For sign bilingual pupils the situation may be different. Where education is
predominantly in sign language, effective teaching will need to be in groups,
whether they be in specialist or mainstream schools. However, the aspiration
of the approach is that older pupils will be educated in their appropriate main-
stream schools through the use of interpreters, and it may be that here too the
skill of the specialist teacher will be in supporting the learning environment,
including interpreters and skills in learning through interpreters, rather than
direct teaching.
There emerges an argument for both a unique difference and a general dif-
ference position with respect to deaf pupils, but developments in the man-
agement of deafness together with changes in educational policy mean this
situation is fluid rather than fixed.
Summary
Nature of the group

• Heterogeneity of the group, including by social, emotional, cognitive and
familial differences, as well as degree of hearing loss.
• Criterion for definition: permanent bilateral hearing loss of moderate, severe
or profound degree (excludes here children with lesser, acquired, unilateral or
fluctuating hearing loss).
Pedagogy
• Weak research base through absence of randomized allocation of pupils to
methods.
• Distinction between approaches based on English, sign-supported English, sign
bilingual approaches.
• English-based approaches reflect delayed, rather than different, perspective.
Curriculum
• Distinction between approaches based on English, Sign-Supported English and
sign bilingual approaches.
• Deaf culture and self-esteem are highly significant for sign bilingual approaches.
• In contrast, aural–oral approaches (based on English) stress the development of
speaking and listening skills.
• Conflicting evidence about mathematics and deaf pupils as same/different,
regarding error strategies, compared with hearing peers.
• Classroom culture/organization as enabling or otherwise (e.g. noise control).
Knowledge
• Assessment of hearing loss.
• Differential impact of varying degrees and frequencies of hearing loss.
• Technological support (including cochlear implants).
• Impact of deafness on communication/language and access to information.
• Relationship between cognition and deafness.
• Consequences of deafness for literacy.
Unique versus general differences position as pedagogic base

• Deaf pupils may function differently in some areas but different functioning does
not mean deficit functioning.
• Sharp differences of view concerning deaf culture (with repercussions for know-
ledge, curriculum and pedagogy). Advocacy of BSL reflects a strong ‘general
differences’ position.
• Modifications to classroom environment may benefit all pupils, e.g. noise reduc-
tion (i.e. direction of change from special as benefiting all), reflecting a unique
differences position.
Deafness 25
• Concludes that both individual and general differences positions are needed
(compare Chapter 6 on macro/micro levels of strategies).
Notable aspects introduced

• Disability culture as impacting on pedagogy.
• Polarization/diversity of teacher beliefs about deafness/difference and hence
appropriate curricula/pedagogies.
Visual impairment
Graeme Douglas and
Mike McLinden
Definition and description of visual impairment
Visual impairment is a broad term that describes a wide continuum of loss in

visual function. There are many aspects of visual function, e.g. visual acuity
(ability to resolve detail), accommodation (ability to focus), field of vision
(area which can be seen), colour vision and adaptability to light. It follows
therefore that there are many causes, types and severities of visual impairment.
The definition used by the World Health Organization (WHO) to describe the
degree of visual impairment is based mainly on an assessment of the indi-
vidual’s ability to resolve fine detail (i.e. visual acuity) using standardized
methods (e.g. the Snellen chart). Thus, a visual acuity of between < 6/18 and 3/
60 after correction in both eyes is described as low vision, and < 3/60 as blind,
although people with better acuity can also be described as having a visual
impairment if they show an appreciable loss of visual field. Importantly, the
majority of individuals with a visual impairment, including those classified as
‘blind’, do have some residual vision that can be optimized in order to under-
take daily tasks and activities. In the UK the legal terms used to classify visual
impairment are blind and partially sighted, and the legal registration as either is
similar to those defined by WHO (though not exactly the same).
For those children who have residual vision, it is widely acknowledged that
medical descriptions of visual impairment (based on a clinical assessment of
visual function) do not provide an accurate indication of how the child is able
to use their vision for functional activities – or functional vision. In educational
terms, therefore, it is necessary for a functional assessment of vision – that is,
the extent to which one can use vision to complete activities (Corn and Koenig
1996) – to be undertaken to complement the information provided from a
clinical assessment. A detailed functional visual assessment, usually undertaken
Visual impairment 27
by a teacher with specialist training in this area (e.g. Qualified Teacher of the
Visually Impaired or QTVI) will include an assessment of how the child is able
to use vision for ‘distant’ activities (e.g. to read writing on a white board) as
well as ‘near’ activities (e.g. reading different size fonts, interpreting pictures).
For many children with more severe and complex needs, it will not be possible
to undertake an accurate assessment of their visual function (e.g. standard
methods used to record visual acuity) and there will be a greater reliance on
information gleaned from functional visual assessments.
Visual impairment has a range of causes, which may be broadly classified as
hereditary, congenital (acquired at or around the time of birth), adventitious
(e.g. the result of an accident) or disease or age-related. Some conditions affect
the eye itself (i.e. ocular visual impairment such as a cataract), while others are
the result of damage to the optic pathways (e.g. optic atrophy). Further, a
significant number of children with physical disabilities and complex learning
difficulties are reported as having cortical visual impairment (i.e. damage to
the visual cortex) or, indeed, cerebral visual dysfunctions (damage to process-
ing areas of the brain other than visual cortex) (Buultjens 1997). Prevalence
across the world is therefore somewhat difficult to establish because of the
variety of causes of visual impairment, and how this differs across country,
climate, culture and economic boundaries. Even in relatively developed coun-
tries precise comparisons are not possible because of differences in definitions
of visual impairment (see Kakazawa et al. 2000 for a comparison of the UK and
Japan). In the case of the UK, it might be expected that prevalence of visual
impairment would be reflected in numbers registered as blind or partially
sighted. In terms of children, the few apparent benefits resulting from registra-
tion mean that this is not the case. Nevertheless, the Royal National Institute
of the Blind (RNIB) has carried out repeated surveys of local education author-
ities (e.g. Clunies-Ross and Franklin 1997; Keil and Clunies-Ross 2003),
the latest of which concludes that in 2002 there were approximately 24,000
children and young people of school age in England, Scotland and Wales
(i.e. up to and including the age of 16), a prevalence rate of 2.4 per 1000 (see
Table 3.1).
In terms of relationships with other special needs groups, an influential
survey by Walker et al. (1992) reported that children with a visual impairment
do not form a homogeneous group, highlighting in particular the high pro-
portion of children with ‘additional’ disabilities. Further support comes from
the most recent RNIB survey (Keil and Clunies-Ross 2003), which collected
data on children with a visual impairment within four broad categories.
Children with a visual impairment and ‘additional disabilities’ were
described as children with sensory, physical and/or mild to moderate learning
difficulties (but excluding severe or profound learning difficulties) and who
were broadly within the usual developmental range for their age. Children
defined as ‘multi-disabled visually impaired’ (MDVI) were described as having
multiple difficulties, which included severe or profound learning difficulties,
and who were functioning at early, or very early, stages of development.
Children defined as ‘deafblind’ were described as children with a combination
of both visual and hearing impairment of ‘sufficient severity to warrant
Table 3.1 Number of blind and partially sighted children in England,

Scotland and Wales extrapolated from a population base of 56 per cent
(rounded)
Age of pupils Number of pupils educated within and outside the LEA
Visual Visual Multi- Deafblind Total

impairment impairment disabled,
without with visually
additional additional impaired
disabilities disabilities
11–16 4490 1680 2770 150 9090

(secondary)
5–10+ 5750 2080 3130 140 11,100
(primary)
Under 5 1650 640 1330 50 3670
(early years)
Total 11,890 4400 7230 340 23,860
Source: Keil and Clunies-Ross (2003).
substantial curriculum intervention/differention’ (see Chapter 4). However,

this category excludes children with hearing impairment and severe or pro-
found learning difficulties, who are categorized as ‘MDVI’ for the purposes of
the survey. There is evidence from this survey that some children with visual
impairments and additional disabilities (e.g. ‘severe’ or ‘profound’ learning
difficulties) are reported in categories other than visual impairment. Thus, Keil
and Clunies-Ross (2003) report that due to the complexity and severity of
these disabilities, their visual impairment is not always recognized, thereby
adding further support to the view that prevalence figures under-represent the
true number of children with a visual impairment (e.g. Webster and Roe 1998;
Kirchner and Diament 1999).
Identifying learner needs
Given the heterogeneity in the population reported above, we can briefly con-
sider a question that is key to this chapter, namely in what ways can the
learner needs of children with a visual impairment, including those with
additional needs, be considered as being distinctive? Of key significance in
addressing this question is an understanding of the role of vision in a child’s
learning experiences, as well as an appreciation of the potential impact of
impaired vision on learning and development.
There is general agreement that vision plays a key role in linking different
types of sensory information during learning and development. As such,
vision is commonly described as a sense that coordinates or integrates the
information received through the other senses. McLinden and McCall (2002)
sum this up concisely, arguing that visual impairment serves to restrict both
the quantity and the quality of information available to a child, thereby
reducing their opportunities to acquire accurate incidental information
through vision. As McCall (1999) notes, in comparison with sighted peers,
children with visual impairments arriving at school may have had fewer or
limited opportunities to:
• explore their environment;

• learn through incidental and unplanned experiences;
• refine motor skills by observing and copying actions of others.
These reduced opportunities can result in a ‘reduction in the information

necessary for understanding how the world is organised and how it can be
acted upon’ (Webster and Roe 1998: 142), and as a consequence, children with
visual impairments will have ‘fewer ways of observing what others are doing,
how individuals deal with situations and events, and what kinds of responses
adults tend to give to peers who produce certain kinds of behaviour’ (ibid.:
143). Further, as Ferrell (2002: 30) notes, a significant reduction in visual
information can result in learning that ‘occurs too often by chance, and it
occurs in discrete, fleeting pieces that cannot easily be combined into con-
cepts’. She highlights, therefore, that learning for children with visual
impairments needs to be more deliberate, incorporating ‘thoughtful and
planned use of the time available to increase the chances for success by
mediating an environment that cannot be experienced visually’ (ibid.: 28).
Curriculum and teacher knowledge
An important distinction made in this book is between curriculum, knowledge

and pedagogic strategies (see Figure 1.2). The task of unpicking these aspects of
teaching is difficult because these three different aspects are interdependent
and consequently each is difficult to discuss without reference to the others.
For this reason we spend some time initially considering curriculum and
knowledge prior to discussing pedagogic strategies. This, in part, reflects our
belief that curriculum and the teacher’s knowledge of the learning process
underpin decisions about pedagogy – indeed this is where much of the
empirical is found.
Additional curriculum areas for pupils with a visual impairment

The distinctive needs of children with visual impairments have given rise to a
number of curriculum areas that are considered to be either ‘over and above’
the mainstream curriculum (e.g. Arter et al. 1999) or areas that are outside the
mainstream teacher’s expertise (e.g. Spragg and Stone 1997) and require input
from professionals with specialist training (e.g. QTVI, mobility officer).
Although these areas have been presented in a variety of ways, they can be
captured in the following ‘additional’ or ‘special’ (see Mason et al. 1997) cur-
riculum areas:
• Mobility and independence (e.g. body and spatial awareness, social and
emotional development, travel skills, and independent living skills; see, for
example, Pavey et al. 2002).
• Maximizing use of residual vision (e.g. developing skills in using low vision
aids for close and distance activities; see, for example, Jose 1983).
• Maximizing the use of other senses (e.g. developing listening skills and/or
tactual skills; see, for example, Arter 1997; McCall 1997).
• ICT (e.g. developing skills in using specialist ICT to access the curriculum;
see, for example, Douglas 2001).
• Literacy development (e.g. through specialist codes such as Braille or Moon,1
or through print/modified print).
Some of these curriculum areas fall outside the statutory curriculum (National
Curriculum in England), and in some cases fall within what the editors call the
‘uncertain interface between teaching and therapeutic intervention that are
learning based’ (Chapter 1: 11). Mobility and independence education is a
particular case in point, and it has been argued that the inconsistency of this
provision in mainstream schools is in part due to the uncertainty about which
agency is responsible for its delivery (e.g. Pavey et al. 2002). However, the
authors go on to argue that the development of mobility and independence
skills is an essential part of education,
The key objective of mobility and independence provision is to help the
child to learn and develop. To fully engage with their education children
need to learn how to move from lesson to lesson, navigate around the
classroom, handle equipment, navigate around their desk successfully,
and communicate successfully with their peers.
(Pavey et al. 2002: 10)
A key principle of the additional curriculum is that many children with a
visual impairment will require structured teaching to enable them to learn to
do tasks that normally sighted children learn without such formal input. This
is true for many of the areas of the additional curriculum listed above –
whether it be structured mobility, visual training, including the use of low
vision aids, or ICT work including specialist access technology. In simple
terms, those who teach children with a visual impairment aim to address the
issue of reduced quality and quantity of information (or information access) by
enabling curriculum access through either enhancing visual presentation (e.g.
providing a modified picture with appropriate task lighting to a child with
low vision) or providing an alternative modality (e.g. providing a verbal and
textual description of a picture). Similarly, the additional curriculum seeks to
address the same issues by developing the children’s concepts and skills that
enable them to access information. It follows that different parts of the addi-
tional curriculum will be relevant to different children depending upon their
needs. Some of the key variables that predict this need are related to the child’s
vision, and have already been discussed (most obviously, a child with no
vision will not benefit from aspects of the additional curriculum concerned
with maximizing residual vision). However, the decision as to the amount and
type of input required for a given child is usually far more subtle.
While space does not allow a full discussion here, mobility is a useful
example of this point. Observation of a person with a severe visual impairment
travelling along a route reveals the strategies they use to acquire the informa-
tion necessary for that journey. This might, for example, involve the use of a
cane to gain information about the immediate environment, the use of optical
devices to gain information about more distant information such as a sign or
bus number and, of course, careful attention to auditory information. The
detail of some of these strategies should not be underestimated (e.g. ‘squaring
off’ to ensure walking commences perpendicular to a wall, ‘indenting’ to
ensure the safe crossing of a side street, the use of idiosyncratic ‘landmarks’ to
break up a route into chunks). Similarly, the strain they can put upon the
memory of the person adopting them, the limitations of the strategies and the
special knowledge of those who are involved in the process of teaching these
skills are considerable.
Literacy and visual impairment
Routes to literacy
We have already highlighted the heterogeneity of the population of children
with a visual impairment, and this is particularly well illustrated in relation to
literacy. Broadly, it is useful to distinguish between three types of student:
those who use a formal tactile code (Braille or Moon), those who use print
(‘low vision readers’; Lamb 1998) and those who do not use either (children
with more complex needs). For the purposes of this discussion we focus upon
the use of formal literacy codes (in the most part Braille and print, and to some
extent Moon). Even this distinction needs qualifying. For example, in discuss-
ing the needs of individuals when selecting a literacy medium, Koenig (1998:
56) reports that:
Some individuals may approach tasks visually at a distance, but prefer

tactile methods at near point. Others may clearly be visual learners but
have a progressive or unstable eye condition that requires attention to
learning non-visual approaches. Still others may be auditory learners, but
few professionals would advocate relying solely on audio taped books or
live readers as the primary literacy medium.
The heterogeneity within the population suggests, therefore, that within the
two broad groups of print and tactile readers we might not expect learners to
fall neatly within one category or the other. Indeed, as Koenig (1998) con-
cludes, neither ‘legal’ nor ‘functional’ definitions of blindness and visual
impairment alone are adequate for selecting appropriate literacy media.
Increased emphasis is now being placed on individuals using a combination of
media to attain full literacy (e.g. a child who uses an audio book to listen to a
novel and Braille to read the menu in a restaurant).
Further, recent case study research exploring the viability of Moon as an

alternative embossed code in offering a literacy medium for children unable to
access Braille provided evidence for different ‘literacy routes’ (Douglas et al.
2003). This notion of ‘literacy routes’ is a useful one, and a developed version
of this is presented in Table 3.2.
The choice of literacy code is clearly more complex than one might initially
expect, but even within each code there are other considerations (which may
have an impact upon pedagogic strategies). In the case of Braille, for example,
there are issues relating to the selection of grade one and two Braille. This is
similarly the case for Moon, and there are decisions about the chosen size of
the Moon characters. In the case of print, there are issues of size and style of
print used, and the use of low vision aids and lighting. In all cases there are
issues related to writing, including the use of ICT.
Our conclusion is that children with a visual impairment follow different
routes to literacy. All children with visual impairment must be taught many
things that are the same as children with normal sight, e.g. phonological skills,
blending, principles of sequence and story, vocabulary. However, they must be
taught some different things compared to children with normal vision – some-
times instead of aspects of the mainstream curriculum (e.g. the Braille code
instead of the print code), sometimes as well as aspects of the mainstream
curriculum (e.g. the efficient use of low vision aids).
Knowledge of the literacy process and performance

Most of the empirical research into the literacy development of children with a
visual impairment has focused on reading rather than writing. Two relatively
large-scale studies are in the areas of reading test development (Greaney et al.
1998; Douglas et al. 2002) and focus upon the Neale Analysis of Reading Abil-
ity (NARA). The authors aimed to generate norm scores for Braille and print
readers respectively. Although both studies paid little attention to the routes to
Table 3.2 Examples of different literacy routes for pupils with a visual
impairment
Example route label Description, including context and features of visually

impaired pupil
Route 1 Congenitally blind, tactile reader from outset (primary

literacy medium: Braille or Moon). Tactile code as a route
to literacy.
Route 2 Adventitiously blind (e.g. during adolescence), print
reader initially then transferred to tactile code (primary
literacy medium: Braille or Moon). Tactile code as a route
through literacy.
Route 3 Congenital visual impairment, predictable prognosis,
medium for literacy print or tactile code.
Route 4 Congenital visual impairment, uncertain prognosis,
medium for literacy print and tactile code.
literacy discussed above, they provide broad findings that serve as a useful
context for the present discussion.
Douglas et al. (2002) tested the reading of 476 children with low vision using
an unmodified print version of the NARA. The data showed that the average
reading ages for accuracy, comprehension and speed for the sample are gener-
ally below their chronological age when the comparison is made with their
fully sighted peers. This finding is in keeping with general observations of
teachers and existing literature (e.g. Tobin 1993 in terms of speed; Gompel
et al. 2002 in terms of ‘decoding’). It appears that up to the age of approxi-
mately seven years, the reading performance of children with low vision is in
line with sighted peers but then begins to lag, and the size of this lag increases
with age.
Greaney et al. (1998) tested the reading of 317 Braille readers using a Braille
version of the NARA. Similarly to the study with low vision, the data showed
that the average reading ages for accuracy, comprehension and speed for the
sample are generally below their chronological age when the comparison is
made with their fully sighted peers (and those of low vision readers). Again,
the size of the ‘lag’ increases with age. In the case of Braille, however, there
appeared to be a greater lag in terms of reading speed.
These broad findings indicate that there may be developmental implica-
tions of the apparent difficulty of access. Traditionally, commentators will
often refer to the impact upon speed of access, but results seem to indicate
that there is what Douglas et al. (2002) call a general ‘developmental lag’ in
reading.
This raises a number of questions. First, bearing in mind the arguments of
population heterogeneity, is it valid/useful to look at norms across the popula-
tion (albeit ‘Braille’ and ‘low vision’ sub-groups of that population)? In both
cases, the authors see the reading test as merely being a tool in understanding
individual children’s reading. Second, it raises the more subtle question of
whether low vision and Braille readers merely lag sighted readers, or differ in
other ways (which in the context of this chapter would have implications for
what is taught, and possibly for how it is taught).
In terms of other literature, the case for the differences in Braille reading is
relatively well developed (see Chapter 2 concerning a sign bilingual approach).
One seemingly obvious, but nevertheless crucial, difference when comparing
the reading performance of sighted and tactile readers is that while ‘the
eye can easily take in a whole word at a glance, the finger can only take in one
character at a time’ (McCall 1999: 38). This ‘letter-by-letter’ approach to Braille
reading has resulted in the development of reading schemes that are reliant on
phonic-based approaches rather than whole-word recognition or ‘look and
say’ methods in the early stages of reading. Differences in reading print and
Braille have given rise to what Greaney et al. (1998: 24) describe as ‘Braille
specific errors’ in the reading process, and they are supported by Miller (1996:
50), who states that children ‘acquire different strategies to those which sighted
children would use when learning to read print’ (our italics).
In part, evidence for these differences is a somewhat obvious consequence of
using a different code and more importantly a different sense (i.e. touch rather
than sight). Even so, careful observation by researchers and practitioners has
generated quite a sophisticated knowledge base of Braille reading, including
types of error that are particular to the Braille code (such as reversal, rotation
and alignment errors), efficient hand movements and correct posture (e.g.
Olson and Mangold 1981; Millar 1997; Greaney et al. 1998). We would argue
that this is the crucial distinctive knowledge of the child’s development and
the learning process (see Figure 1.2), which is required by those teaching
children Braille.
There has been less research related to low vision readers. In the area of the
psychophysics of reading, some research has been carried out investigating the
eye movements of low vision readers (usually adults) by Legge and his col-
leagues. For example, Legge et al. (1996) showed that the visual span is smaller
and glances between eye movements are longer for low vision readers than for
normally sighted readers. One of the few studies to investigate reading errors
directly was carried out by Corley and Pring (1993). They examined the read-
ing errors of nine partially sighted children (aged 5:8 to 8:7 years) in detail
(repeated testing over a seven-month period). They found that the errors made
resembled those of fully sighted children of a younger age, but otherwise there
were no categorical differences. Nevertheless, Douglas et al (2004) compared
the reading profiles of 25 normally sighted readers (mean age 8 years 8
months) with 25 low vision readers (mean age 10 years 5 months). All the
children were tested using the NARA and were matched on the reading
accuracy score produced by the test. The purpose of the analysis was to search
for differences in the children’s reading despite them being matched for over-
all reading accuracy. A closer analysis of the reading error profile was carried
out, which revealed some differences. Low vision readers were more prone to
making substitution errors than mispronunciations and the reverse was true
for normally sighted readers. Perhaps this is not surprising – it might be
expected that a student who is on average two years older and finding it
difficult to see the print may be more prone to ‘guessing’ a semantically
appropriate word. While further research is required, the authors propose that
subtle differences such as this will clearly inform teachers when considering
what they teach.
Pedagogic strategies and visual impairment
Having considered the particular consequences of visual impairment upon the

curriculum and the required teacher knowledge of the learning processes of
pupils with a visual impairment, we now consider how this may affect the
pedagogic strategies adopted and the empirical evidence to support this. The
focus is upon low vision and Braille readers.
Table 1.1 usefully makes a distinction between pedagogic strategies and con-
tinua of those strategies (high and low intensity). However, it does not capture
the modification of strategies in terms of modality of presentation (enhanced
or alternative presentation). We would argue that it is this modification that is
often crucial for children with visual impairments. After all, modification of
modality of presentation of material is neither more nor less ‘intense’ – it is just

different.
To make this distinction explicit we use the labels of ‘macro’ and ‘micro’
strategies. Macro strategies are those at a higher level and are typified by the
examples in Table 1.1 (e.g. provision of practice to achieve mastery). Micro
strategies are very particular modifications of macro strategies (and subordin-
ate to them). We would argue that these modifications are either the enhanced
or the alternative presentation required by children with a visual impairment
to access the curriculum. For example, a commonly adopted pedagogic strat-
egy as outlined by the editors is ‘Provide examples to learn concepts’. We can
think about this in relation to teaching a child about farm animals. The strat-
egy could be applied to Braille readers (e.g. giving a child the opportunity to
feel a real horse or a tactile representation of a horse), low vision readers (e.g.
an enhanced picture of a horse with verbal description) and normally sighted
readers (e.g. a picture of a horse).
Irrespective of micro or macro pedagogic strategies as defined above, rela-
tively little research exists that investigates the effectiveness of particular
pedagogic strategies for pupils with a visual impairment. In the area of Braille
teaching (which is possibly the most extensively researched area of visual
impairment education), Rex et al. (1996: 131) arrived at an ‘unsettling’ con-
clusion that despite an extensive body of literature, relatively little is known
about the teaching of reading and writing of braille: ‘Therefore some of the
common instructional practices in teaching literacy to children who are
blind may not be the best possible practices. The truth is, professionals in the
field of blindness simply do not know.’ Nevertheless, a number of researchers
have investigated the efficacy of teaching particular Braille reading skills (e.g.
Mangold 1978; Caton et al. 1980; Wormsley 1981). At the micro strategy
level, then, some of the approaches adopted are very particular to the teach-
ing of tactile codes, e.g. the use of hand-over-hand techniques to demon-
strate hand movements, or particularly pertinent because of the lack of
access to the visual modality, e.g. verbal descriptions of pictures, the use of
tactile pictures, the use of real world sounds. In part, these points are self-
evident. However, some micro strategies require the teacher to draw upon a
more sophisticated knowledge base as described in preceding sections. The
choice of letter introduction in Braille, the introduction of Braille contrac-
tions, the correction of errors that are particular to the Braille code – these are
all choices of pedagogic strategies that should be considered carefully. A
bibliography constructed by Tobin (undated) of over 70 articles describing
strategies to teaching Braille demonstrates the practitioner interest in these
micro strategies.
The evidence in the case of low vision readers is even more limited. There is
some research that demonstrates the importance of strategies involving the
modification of print, such as enlarging or reducing (e.g. Keeffe 2001) and the
use of magnifiers (e.g. Tobin 1993). Other strategies that are almost universally
used but have not been investigated in any great depth are the modification of
posture (e.g. bringing text closer) and the use of task lighting. Not surprisingly,
studies of this type tend to demonstrate that no single modification suits all,
although it is widely accepted that the general principle of print modification

(in its broadest sense) is likely to be useful to all low vision readers. In the terms
described above, these are distinctive micro pedagogic strategies concerned
with enhancement of print.
The concern of these types of strategy is primarily with issues of access to text
rather than the teaching of reading – and it is for this reason that we categorize
them as micro rather than macro strategies. There is no evidence of particular
approaches to the teaching of reading being more suitable to low vision
readers, although emerging evidence of different reading development
patterns described above may challenge this position.
Turning our attention to macro strategies, historically it is perhaps this dis-
tinction of access and teaching that is crucial in the field of visual impairment.
The traditional focus of research has been upon the former rather than the
latter. Importantly, we are using the word ‘access’ to refer primarily to the
modification of presentation, rather than the modification of content. It
would seem then that there is little or no evidence that there is a distinct
macro pedagogy for children with a visual impairment. At a micro strategy
level of teaching we can identify evidence of a group (general) difference
position that has its basis in access to the curriculum, and results in specific
approaches that must be taken when teaching children with a visual impair-
ment. Nevertheless, it would be an oversimplification to conclude that
particular strategies are universally applied to the whole visually impaired
population; instead, sub-groups of it can follow different educational routes
(e.g. literacy routes). Important factors in making the choice of educational
route include the child’s severity and type of the visual impairment, as well as
the extent of their additional needs.
Perhaps there are three consequences of different micro strategies in this
way. First, some presentations are simply less practical than others (e.g. provid-
ing real examples or three-dimensional models). Second, different types of
presentation have different qualities, and to this extent different levels of
access. In the teaching of reading, the specific ‘whole word’ pedagogical
approach is simply not possible in Braille, and may be difficult for children
with low vision. Therefore, children with a visual impairment may not share a
distinctive pedagogic strategy, but have an inaccessible pedagogic strategy in
common. Third, research described above noted that the reduction in access to
literacy as a consequence of visual impairment (despite compensatory micro
strategies) makes reading slower. Perhaps the greatest implication of this is the
reduction in time available for the macro pedagogic strategy of practice.
Whether what we have called ‘micro’ pedagogic strategies are distinct or
mere modifications of ‘macro’ pedagogic strategies is open to debate and
interpretation. However, what is clear is that their application is crucial to the
education of children with a visual impairment, and those who have responsi-
bility for teaching these children require a developed knowledge of the
students’ learning processes and their distinct routes through the curriculum.
Summary
Nature of the group

• The distinction between the medically defined degree of visual impairment and
functional vision is important.
• There is a heterogeneity of children with visual impairment in relation to (a)
differing causes of visual impairment and (b) possible co-occurrence.
Pedagogy
• Learning experiences need to be ‘more deliberate’ (see ‘knowledge’ below).
• Structured teaching is needed for certain tasks that other children learn without
such formal input or do not need to learn (see ‘curriculum’ below).
• Modifying the modality of presentation is important – not just a case of high/low
intensity of pedagogic strategy.
• Distinctive micro strategies for visually impaired learners may reflect practicality,
accessibility and the repercussions of reduced time for practice.
• There is a lack of research on the general effectiveness of particular strategies for
learners with visual impairments.
Curriculum
• Various ‘curriculum areas’ are needed ‘over and above’ those of the mainstream:
mobility and independance, use of residual vision, maximal use of other senses,
ICT-related, specialized literacy approaches (e.g. Moon).
• Three contrasting approaches to literacy are illustrative of the need for special-
ized curriculum/knowledge for learners with visual impairments: tactile (Braille/
Moon-supported); print, using residual vision; neither, because both precluded
through the learner’s complex needs.
• This leads to the concept of different literacy routes (reflecting heterogeneity of
the vision impairment group – see above).
• Braille versus print approaches to literacy lead to differences in reading strategies
(arising in part from letter by letter versus whole word/phonic decoding).
Knowledge
• Vision coordinates information received.
• Hence visual impairment reduces the reception of information needed to make
sense of learning experiences.
• The evidence base relates more to knowledge/curriculum than to pedagogy.

• There is little or no evidence for a distinct pedagogy concerning visual impair-
ment at the macro level.
• However, the authors make a case that emphasizes differences in curriculum/
required knowledge for learners with a visual impairment that consequently lead
to group-oriented and individual pedagogic differences at the micro level.

• The authors introduce the notion of macro and micro levels of pedagogic strat-
egy; macro strategies being ‘higher level’ (e.g. provision to practice mastery)
and micro strategies being ‘very particular modifications of macro strategies’.
• A distinction is made between ‘access’ and ‘teaching’.
Note
1 Braille is a tactile code based upon dots arranged in two by three matrix, forming a
braille cell. Grade 2 braille contains ‘contractions’ which include many common letter
clusters (e.g. ‘sh’, ‘ou’) represented by a single braille cell (see Greaney et al., 1998).
Grade 1 braille does not use contractions. Moon is a tactile code based upon a lined
alphabet. (See McLinden and McCall 2002 for further information)
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Deafblindness
Olga Miller and Liz Hodges
Introduction
Over the past hundred years or so, writers, philosophers and more recently
psychologists and neuroscientists have become increasingly fascinated by the
role of the senses in the evolution of brain function and the emergence of
thought. Much of this work has developed as scientists and others continue to
seek to understand the nature of consciousness (Ramachandran 2003). As part
of this search psychologists and neuroscientists have studied the effects of
sensory loss or impairment on the individual in the hope that, in explaining
what is atypical in human development, they will gain a better understanding
of what constitutes the typical, or, more emotively, ‘the norm’. The subject of
deafblindness therefore holds particular fascination. As Alexi Leontiev (1948:
108) wrote:
Deaf-blindness is the most extreme experiment on man, an experiment
devised by Nature herself, and one of the most complex and awe-inspiring
phenomena – the inner mechanism of the emergent human conscious-
ness in the objective relationships which mould that consciousness.
Deafblindness is rare and congenital deafblindness rarer still. There is an
estimated incidence rate (QCA 1999) in the UK of around 1.8 per 10,000 of the
total population. Rubella has traditionally been the major cause of deafblind-
ness but, as populations of children emerge with more complex needs, deaf-
blindness is associated with a range of syndromes such as Goldenhaar syn-
drome or CHARGE, and other neo-natal factors such as low weight premature
births. As with sensory loss in general, children who are deafblind from birth
are the minority within a minority. For the majority of those affected, sensory
loss is acquired in later life following a lifetime’s experience of vision or
hearing or both. This makes the needs of children who are congenitally
deafblind especially distinct. The effects of congenital deafblindness are likely

to include difficulty in communicating, problems in environmental naviga-
tion and difficulty in gaining understanding and feedback from actions.
However, there are several other factors to consider (based on Warren 1994):
• degree of loss or impairment;
• presence of any other disability;
• personality of the child.
Aitken et al. (2000: 8) expand Warren’s list in relation to deafblindness:
• congenital or early onset hearing and visual impairment;
• congenital or early onset hearing impairment with acquired visual
impairment;
• congenital or early onset visual impairment with acquired hearing
impairment;
• later onset hearing and visual impairment.
Definitions
Definitions of deafblindness stress the effects of the combined loss or impair-

ment of both hearing and vision. McInnes and Treffry (1982: 1) describe the
deafblind child as having one of the least understood of all disabilities because
of the unique impact of the loss of the effective use of both distance senses.
They therefore consider the needs of such children as arising from multisensory
deprivation. More recently, writers such as Aitken et al. (2000: 3) point to the
number of different terms used. They note the loss of the hyphen in deaf-
blindness in 1993 as a means of highlighting the combined effect of deaf-
blindness. Deafblind thus became the preferred term in the UK (and is the
term used throughout this chapter), while the USA retains the hyphen, as in
deaf-blindness.
However, there is a still greater debate around definition and the approaches
used in education. The debate hinges on the specificity of the definition of
deafblindness. Much of the work concerned with the development of what are
considered to be ‘distinct’ approaches in the education of children who are
deafblind addresses the population of children who are congenitally deafblind
with no other disabilities. This is an important distinction for the purposes of
this chapter as even the term ‘multisensory deprivation’ has come to embrace
a range of needs, including children considered to have profound and multiple
learning difficulties.
We believe there are a number of problems associated with a broader con-
cept of deafblindness:
• research is difficult, and often inconclusive, without an agreed definition of
deafblindness and the population;
• claims for a distinct pedagogy become confused when the population is too
diverse;
Deafblindness 43
• provision may not be appropriate because it does not address the unique
needs of the population;
• the knowledge base of educators is weakened by lack of contact with
children affected by congenital deafblindness;
Historical factors
The history of pedagogy and deafblindness can be traced back as far as the
eighteenth century but it is the experience of Helen Keller (1889–1969), who
became deafblind from an early age, that has come to symbolize the adapt-
ability of the human brain when faced with massive sensory deprivation.
Helen Keller and Laura Bridgman before her became famous for what were
seen as their amazing abilities, despite their deafblindness, in learning to
communicate with others and to understand what was happening around
them. This was at a time when the general orthodoxy suggested that there was
limited, if any, potential for those considered to be deafblind.
Pockets of educational provision for children who were deafblind were
developed from the nineteenth century onwards. However, it is the pioneer-
ing work in what was then the Soviet Union, at a school in Zagorsk (now
renamed Sergiev Posad), that has had a major influence on the education of
children who are deafblind. The work at Sergiev Posad is part of a long trad-
ition in what is described as ‘defectology’. Defectology grew out of the work of
psychologists such as Vygotsky. Defectology is defined by Knox and Stevens
(1993: v) as concerned with abnormal psychology learning disabilities and
special education.
Theoretical perspectives
Alexander Meshcheryakov (1974: 31) notes in his seminal study of the educa-
tion of deafblind children, Awakening to Life, that one of the key figures in
defectology who ‘paved the way for a new approach to the study of the mind’
was Lev Vygotsky. Meshcheryakov goes on to note:
Vygotsky’s research paved the way for a new approach to the study of the
mind not only viewed from the historical angle, but also in the context of
man’s development as an individual. Research in the sphere of genetic
psychologists carried forward the ideas formulated by Vygotsky, who
sought to reveal the significance of objects and norms of human culture,
and also of interaction between adult and child for the development of
the latter’s mind.
Vygotsky’s work influenced Meshcheryakov, who emphasises the importance
of ‘action’ (ibid.: 295) and the use of ‘tools’ by the deafblind child. Tools are
broadly defined as objects (spoons, clothes, house etc.) and also as norms of
social/cultural behaviour (timetables, rules, customs etc.). This emphasis on
the ‘socio-cultural’ and ‘activity’ within the context of pedagogy is reflected in
the work of Jan van Dijk.
In the West probably the most influential figure in the field of deafblind-
ness over the past 30 years is Professor Jan van Dijk. Van Dijk (2001) traces his
own approach back to the rubella epidemics in Europe and America in the
early 1960s, when a ‘new’ population of deafblind children emerged. The out-
come of these epidemics saw a sharp rise in the number of deafblind, rubella-
damaged children (Robbins and Stenquist 1967). Many of these children had
more complex needs than earlier populations and the large number of chil-
dren affected challenged existing provision (Robbins and Stenquist 1967).
The work of van Dijk, while reflecting an interest in Vygotsky’s theories
around the socio-cultural influences on development, also utilizes the work of
psychologists such as Piaget and Bowlby in combination with that of modern
neuroscientists. Unlike the work of the early educators in the nineteenth cen-
tury (such as Howe in America), who worked in the context of provision for
children who were blind, van Dijk’s work stems from his association with Sint-
Michielsgestel, an ‘Institute for the Deaf’ based in the Netherlands. Much of
van Dijk’s work builds on his links with the provision for deafblind pupils
within Sint-Michielsgestel.
The conceptual framework that underpins the work of van Dijk is drawn
from a number of sources. Broadly speaking, he brings together concepts of
deprivation, attachment and socialization in order to evolve an approach to
pedagogy (Nelson et al. 2002).
Deprivation theory
Sensory and experience deprivation

Van Dijk and Nelson (1998) argue that the congenitally deafblind child is
potentially deprived in a number of ways. These can be summarized as sens-
ory, experiential and social. In terms of the effect on the developing child this
deprivation can be catastrophic. Van Dijk and Nelson suggest that a dual sens-
ory loss or impairment limits not only the child’s understanding of what is
around them but also their opportunity to gain meaningful experience. In
particular, van Dijk and Nelson stress the fragmentation of the sensory input
the child receives and the consequent unpredictability of events. As a result of
this unpredictability it is difficult for the child to understand the implications
of their actions. The child is therefore unable to modify their behaviour or
understanding as a result of these actions, and thus their opportunities for
learning are limited. Consequently, the child is not motivated to explore and
to seek further interactions.
Social deprivation
In his description of social deprivation van Dijk (1991) characterizes the deaf-
blind child as suffering the effects of sensory and social deprivation, often in
combination with neurological impairments such as cerebral palsy. The child
consequently lives in an environment with extremely limited stimuli. At both
Deafblindness 45
physiological and emotional levels the child seeks compensation in self-

stimulation. There are a number of such behaviours, such as rocking, ‘eye-
pressing’ and light gazing. When engaged in these behaviours the child does
not respond to other attempts to help him or her to become aware of a world
outside his or her own body.
Van Dijk goes on to examine the impact of deafblindness on the early
mother–child relationship and learning. He suggests that the child may not
only withdraw from contact with the carer into his or her own patterns of self-
stimulation and stereotypical behaviours but may also develop idiosyncratic
modes of communication that carers fail to understand. This seeming lack of
response may also be coupled with the impact on the child and family of
unusual sleep patterns, hospital visits and medical interventions, as well as the
involvement of many professionals. The end results are often confusion and
misunderstanding between carers and child. This is combined with fear and
uncertainty on the part of the child and feelings of disempowerment on the
part of the carer.
The possible effects of this are also described by Anne Nafstad (1991: 19),
who suggests that the congenitally deafblind child may not be able to learn to
organize his interaction into a meaningful entirety. Much like van Dijk, she
sees the results for the child as a tendency to remain passive or to be locked
into self-stimulatory behaviours that further restrict the child’s opportunities
for social interaction. Nafstad also emphasizes the subsequent lack of
spontaneous or exploratory behaviours.
Teaching and learning
The work of van Dijk has led to the development of a variety of pedagogic
strategies. The most comprehensive attempt to evaluate and exemplify the
main tenets of his ‘approach’ has been undertaken by Stephanie MacFarland.
MacFarland (1995) sets out an overview of what she describes as the ‘van Dijk
curricular approach’. She divides this into four components:
1 Learner outcome: development of initial attachment and security.
2 Learner outcome: development of near and distance senses in relation to the
world.
3 Learner outcome: development of the ability to structure his or her world.
4 Learner outcome: development of natural communication systems.
These components are underpinned by a series of theoretical principles drawn
from studies of typical child development. The principles can be summarized
as:
• The importance of the integration of sensory pathways (hearing, vision,
touch, taste and proprioception) in the development of perception.
• The role of motor patterns that are ‘involved in the handling of things-of-
action’ and the significance of these patterns in the development of concept
formation.
• Attachment and security as an outcome of close human contact between

teacher and child. The role of ‘imitative (co-active) movements between the
child and a consistent partner (response-contingent interaction)’.
• What van Dijk describes as distancing: the gradual transition from concrete
and iconic representations towards ‘conceptual and schematized represen-
tations of the world’.
• The growth of a sense of agency in the child and an awareness of the ‘order-
ing of time and space’ facilitating the child’s ability to anticipate events.
• The child structuring his or her world around situations that are anticipated
and learning to deal with the unexpected.
• How in response to everyday events and interactions the child develops a
‘repertoire of natural symbols’, which include signs, gestures and referential
objects.
• The child’s use of this ‘repertoire of natural symbols’ within the form of
pragmatic communication.
Theory into practice
Van Dijk, writing in 1986, outlined what he considered to be the key aspects of
an education programme building on his theoretical principles and leading
the child from the precursors of ‘attachment’ to the development of com-
munication. One key element is the use of ‘resonance’: this is a strategy that
capitalizes on the developing child’s reflex response to external stimuli (e.g.
movement, vibration, vocal). In the case of the deafblind child the aim is to
‘shift self-stimulatory behaviours to behaviours that involve other persons and
objects’ (MacFarland 1995).
This is followed by the introduction of co-active movement. Co-active
movement is where the educator follows and then joins in the movement of
the child in order to encourage later turn-taking. Van Dijk and Nelson (1998)
highlight the importance of this approach in helping the child to develop
what they describe as a ‘feeling of competence’. By competence they mean
that the aim is to promote a ‘locus of control’ within the child. Co-active
movement is unlike earlier techniques that were based on behaviourism,
which tried to force the child away from his or her stereotypical behaviours by
preventing his or her hand movements or rocking. In co-active movement the
educator takes his or her lead from the child. The educator then seeks to sense
the child’s intentions through his or her movement and to begin a movement-
based ‘conversation’ with the child.
Co-action becomes a basis for bringing movements or actions together in a
chain or circuit and structuring the child’s daily routine through the estab-
lishment of a ‘chain of expectancies’ (van Dijk acknowledges the particular
influence of Vygotsky in this strategy). A chain or routine is established (usu-
ally in relation to daily living activities). When the child has become used to
the routine a component is omitted. The critical factor is how the child
responds to this sudden change. The aim is that the change in routine will
encourage the child to react in a way that facilitates the involvement of the
Deafblindness 47
teacher. For instance, the child (if physically able) may search for the missing
bread during a mealtime routine. The teacher is then able to use the opportun-
ity to respond to the child’s interest in locating the missing bread and a form
of dialogue takes place.
Tangible symbol systems
Of all van Dijk’s work the use of tangible symbol systems such as object refer-
ents has been the most influential. At the same time it is also the most widely
misunderstood. Van Dijk traces his approach back to the work of Werner and
Kaplan (1963), who identify in typical language development the stage at
which the child discovers the similarity between object and referent. Van Dijk
stresses that these are ‘natural’ symbols discovered by the child. Writers such as
Russell (1996) have explored in some depth the complexity behind the use of
objects in what Russell describes as symbol processing and ‘the language of
thought’.
Although there is not space here to rehearse the numerous theories around
language acquisition, it is important to stress that agency and its role in cogni-
tion are at the heart of tangible symbol systems. Unfortunately, this is most
often what is lost in the use of what have come to be called ‘objects of refer-
ence’. Often objects of reference are seen as a teaching activity rather than part
of a holistic approach to communication (Porter et al. 1997). If part of a coher-
ent approach, the use of object referents can enable the child to exert control
and to make real choices. However, in many cases the focus of the approach
becomes one of giving an object to the child for the teacher to use as a referent
in order to direct and thus control the child.
The use of signifiers

‘Characterization’ strategies are used to help the child to develop a form of
vocabulary of referents. A ‘characteristic’ of an individual or an event,
which is significant to the deafblind child, is used as a means of helping the
child to locate the individual or event within a context he or she can
anticipate and thus remember. It may be a bracelet or ring that an indi-
vidual always wears when greeting or working with the child or a particular
smell or texture linked to an activity. In the case of a child with some vision
this could also be a photograph or later a drawing. For the child this refer-
ent comes to ‘signify’ one person rather than another or a particular day of
the week when an event may occur. Van Dijk extended this work through
the use of what came to be known as ‘calendar’ or ‘memory’ boxes. These
boxes contain the signifier or referent for the individuals or activities the
child will encounter during a particular day. Calendar boxes can reduce
anxiety and help the child to anticipate change (for example, if his or her
key worker is away). However, van Dijk is keen to point out that this strat-
egy will not work unless the child has reached an awareness of object
permanence.
Evidence from research

Although pedagogy and deafblindness have a long history, there is relatively
little empirical evidence as to the efficacy of particular approaches or strat-
egies. There is, however, a gloriously rich source of anecdotal information
from parents, teachers and deafblind individuals supported by some studies
such as the work undertaken in Russia.
In 1991 the All Russia Association of the Blind held a symposium that
sought to examine some of the methodological issues underpinning research
into pedagogy and deafblindness. The results of the symposium illustrate what
remains a major barrier to researching the outcome of teaching, learning and
deafblindness. Participants of the symposium were critical of much of the
research carried out by key Soviet figures working in the field of deafblindness.
This was on the basis of the lack of clarity in relation to the characteristics of
the population being researched. This, it was argued, led to assumptions and
claims based on inaccurate or misleading data. In particular, research under-
taken by Sokoliansky and Meshcheryakov (and subsequently used to support
claims of successful interventions) was described by the researchers as derived
from data drawn from children who were congenitally deafblind or those who
were totally deafblind from early childhood. However, the research was criti-
cized by members of the symposium on the basis that it was said to have
involved children who had lost vision and hearing in later life. Some of these
children, it was claimed by critics, had been verbal and so had established
patterns of language and communication before becoming deafblind.
The very diversity of the population is one of the enduring dilemmas for
research in the field of deafblindness. Added to the problem of diversity are the
methodological and ethical issues of researching low incidence and vulnerable
populations. Where research has been more prolific (though in some ways
controversial) is in the field of neuro-science. Although this research focuses
on more general populations, there are many similarities between the findings
from these studies and those of van Dijk. In 1999 van Dijk returned to his
research on the importance of co-active movement and contingency. This was
in the wake of a number of studies of brain formation and the ability of the
child to cope with stress (Boyce et al. 1992; Nelson and Carver 1998; Perry and
Pollard 1998). Van Dijk suggests that from these studies it becomes clear that
imposing activities on ‘a young child in such a way that he is unable to escape,
undermines the development of the neurological system and even destroys
existing neuronal pathways’ (van Dijk 1999). This brought into question the
wholesale use of pedagogic strategies such as co-active movement with popu-
lations of children with multiple and often profound needs when teachers did
not have a full understanding of the theoretical and philosophical roots of
such approaches. In some cases, far from helping the child to develop a sense
of competence, van Dijk points out that such ill conceived attempts promoted
only learned helplessness and greater passivity.
In 1997 one of the authors of this chapter worked on a research project with
Jill Porter and Laura Pease. The research had a series of objectives. These
included gathering information on the range of pedagogic strategies employed
Deafblindness 49
by teachers, how teachers made decisions about what type of strategy to use
and the effectiveness of the range of different strategies.
At the time of the research the majority (53 per cent) of pupils were follow-
ing what was described as a developmental curriculum. Teachers drew their
strategies from a variety of sources but the predominant theorist remained van
Dijk, whose ideas were enormously influential. One of the difficulties identi-
fied was that of translating his ideas into a British curricular context. Teachers
sometimes used van Dijk’s terminology without a clear understanding of its
range of theoretical underpinning (as with van Dijk’s observations on
the problems associated with co-active movement). Much depended on
teachers’ knowledge of child development and their initial training. Teachers
from secondary (subject-based) backgrounds were therefore at a particular
disadvantage.
Conclusions
Much of the emphasis in this chapter has been on presenting the needs of
children who are congenitally deafblind as distinct from those of other
learners. However, we have also suggested that the population of children now
described as deafblind or multisensorily deprived is no longer easily defined
and encompasses a multiplicity of combinations of sensory impairment,
together with other forms of disability. The real question focuses on whether
there is a pedagogy that is specifically related to a group of learners described
as deafblind or whether the change in the population of learners has diluted
the notion of distinctiveness. While recognizing the complexity of the cur-
rent population we would still argue that any child who has a significant
hearing and visual loss or impairment, whether in combination with other
disabilities or not, should be considered to be deafblind. Further, we argue
that without an understanding on the part of educators of sensory function
and the impact of its loss, access to an appropriate curriculum and pedagogy
is unlikely to be achieved. Pedagogy therefore has to be seen to underpin
entitlement.
The notion of entitlement and disability is reiterated in terms of the curric-
ulum through numerous discourses around access and inclusion. The intro-
duction of a National Curriculum within the UK in 1988 gave rise to a moun-
tain of material and guidance endorsed by statutory requirements. Teachers
were required to follow the content and structure of this curriculum. Teacher
training was reconfigured in such a way that the emphasis became one of
delivering a prescribed curriculum rather than following the outcome of
detailed study of child development and learning. In combination with this
mechanistic approach, the area of sensory function has always been a
neglected aspect of teacher education. Usually seen within the context of
medical study rather than pedagogy, sensory function is perceived as being on
the periphery of teaching and learning. Consequently, very few teachers feel
competent to assess the educational needs of children who have sensory
impairments.
Because of the impact on communication of deafness, and particularly

deafblindness, there is additional uncertainty on the part of the majority
of teachers. This uncertainty was compounded with the introduction of a
curriculum with a linear structure and a starting point of a chronological
equivalence of five years. The learning needs of many pupils fell outside this
newly created ‘norm’-focused curriculum. Given the rarity of deafblindness (in
all its forms) the needs of these pupils seemed all the more extreme.
It would be wrong to suggest that before the advent of the National Curric-
ulum all pupils who were deafblind in the UK received appropriate provision.
Indeed, apart from one or two notable examples, the needs of such pupils were
often misunderstood and their potential untapped. In our experience some of
the casualties of this lack of understanding ended up being consigned to long-
term care in the sub-normality wards of mental hospitals. Fortunately, more
recently there has been some recognition of the need for a more flexible
approach to the curriculum.
The devolved nations within the UK now have their own documentation, so
more than one model of the curriculum now exists and attempts have been
made to unravel the rather simplistic notion of linear progression to allow for
greater access to an appropriate curriculum. The publication of curriculum
guidance in the UK (QCA 1999) specifically for those professionals working
with deafblind pupils has helped to raise awareness of the importance of
monitoring the curriculum to ensure that the needs of pupils who are deaf-
blind are addressed.
There is also a growing emphasis on early intervention. This concern for the
early years has to some extent reawakened interest by the UK government in
funding studies and research into child development. There is also increased
interest in training those professionals working in the early years who are
likely to play a critical role in supporting families of deafblind children. At
present these seem positive trends that will, we hope, contribute to a wider
understanding of deafblindness and its impact on the developing child.
Summary
Nature of the group

• Defining this population is problematic – there is no agreed definition.
• There is a strong likelihood of co-occurence in a significant subset of the deaf-
blind population.
• In the literature, there is a confounding of evidence concerning children who are
deafblind from birth and children who develop deafblindness during childhood.
Pedagogy
• Vygotskian influences (co-action) can be seen.
• The influence/relevance of mainstream theorizing – attachment behaviour,
deprivation, socialization, language acquisition, recent work in neuro science –
can also be seen.
Deafblindness 51
• There is a strong dependence on work derived from van Dijk (informed by the
development of ‘typical’ children).
• Evidence about effectiveness draws heavily on Russian research plus, from there
and elsewhere, anecdotal evidence.
Curriculum
• There is little evidence about this; what little there is draws heavily on van Dijk.
• The use of object referents is seen as important.
Knowledge
• This is not covered explicitly in the chapter.

• The position taken by contributors is of ‘individual’, not general or group
differences.
• In line with this, there is a reiteration in various contexts of ‘normal’ child
development as a helpful reference point.

• Repercussions of difficulties concerning group definition, i.e. consequent prob-
lems in hypothesizing pedagogic principles.
• Neglect of sensory aspects of learning/development. This is disadvantageous for
deafblind children but also for other groups, in that the direction of influence
regarding a common pedagogy goes from special to mainstream as well as the
reverse.
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Severe learning difficulties
Jill Porter
Two different starting points can be taken to analysing the evidence for
specialized teaching methods for children with severe learning difficulties. On
the one hand, one can start with the practices and look at the evidence for
their effectiveness and explanations that account for this. This approach
places the prime focus on educational practices and an analysis of pedagogy as
it relates to education. Thus one might search the literature for pedagogy in
relation to the curriculum. An initial trawl through the British Education
Index indicates that if one starts with the key words of severe learning difficul-
ties and disabilities with a focus on literature from 1996 to the current time,
a generous analysis suggests that some 30 articles have been published.
However, few of these can be described as robustly evaluative. It would be
difficult on this slender research base to provide an answer to the question ‘Are
we using a distinctive pedagogy for teaching pupils with severe learning
difficulties?’ that is grounded in clear evidence for its effectiveness. This is
unsurprising, as it largely looks to educators to carry out and publish this
research. A review of trends in research in learning difficulties suggests that
international research in the field of education is small and diminishing
(Porter and Lacey 2004) compared, for example, to that relevant to social
service provision. Others commenting on the state of international research
have also indicated concerns about the paucity of empirical research in special
education (Gersten et al. 2000).
The alternative approach starts from an examination of the evidence to
suggest that pupils with severe learning difficulties have particular needs or
characteristics that make learning different for them. We might then make a
tentative assumption that they therefore require some approaches to teaching
that are distinctly different and look for evidence that supports this conten-
tion. Here the literature is more extensive, although much of it might now be
considered historical. This research reflected the early interests of different
groups of psychologists in investigating learning and developmental processes

in atypical populations. One group espoused a defect theory of learning
difficulties, suggesting that this population demonstrated differences in the
learning process. For example, Ellis and colleagues (Ellis 1969; Ellis and
Cavalier 1982) strove to investigate how people of different IQs performed on
particular learning tasks, with the result that many different deficits were
proposed in, for example, attention and discrimination (Zeamon and House
1979), memory (Ellis 1963; Ellis and Woodridge 1985; Marcell and Weeks 1988)
and generalization (Zeamon and House 1984). On this basis one might look
for approaches to teaching that specifically took account of these difficulties in
attention, discrimination, memory and generalization.
The contrasting position, the developmental position, expressed by Zigler
(1969, 1982), held that the mentally retarded passed through the same stages
of development as non-retarded children, but with a slower rate of progression
and a lower ceiling, a proposition that is not inconsistent with a continuum
view of need. This approach was originally limited to studying those indi-
viduals without organic damage and utilized an experimental design that
matched children according to mental age in order to reveal that they per-
formed equally on developmental tasks. The developmentalists have become
increasingly differentiated as a group and the theories have widened along
with the individuals investigated. Some researchers have adopted a ‘similar
structure’ approach, arguing that not only do individuals pass through the
same sequence but they reveal similar reasoning at each stage (Weisz et al.
1982), and encompass individuals who have organic damage through study of
the patterns of development of particular aetiological groups, notably children
with Down’s syndrome (see Chapter 7 for a review), as they constitute a rela-
tively large and identifiable group. In contrast, this approach suggests that if
children simply lag behind there may be no special approach needed other
than those adopted for younger children.
An analysis of published research in the field suggests that aetiology-specific
research continues to form an important segment of publications but with a
growth in studies of children with autism (Porter and Lacey 2004). In contrast,
there is less research that is generic to learning difficulties and seeks to answer
questions about how children with SLD learn. In part this probably reflects the
domination of the literature by relatively few researchers (Logan and Lott
2000) and the commitment to research around behaviour phenotypes that is a
strong movement in the United States. While in time one might look to
neuroscience to provide us with more tangible evidence (Blakemore and Frith
2001), it is the research on learning processes that this chapter reflects on
before looking more specifically at the implications for teaching particular
curriculum areas. As we shall see, more recent studies question whether the
identified needs are distinct or whether they reflect the decontextualized
methods that are used to study learning. They also raise issues about the
methodological difficulty of separating out aspects of the learning process to
suggest specific deficits.
Severe learning difficulties 55
How can one conceptualize severe learning difficulties?
First, it is necessary to try to delineate the group of pupils referred to here as

having severe learning difficulties. Characteristically in the UK definitions
have been indicative of provision, and severe learning difficulties were gener-
ally seen as those children who required a different curriculum – a develop-
mental curriculum (DES 1985). This is not unlike definitions that were used in
the United States that referred to the sorts of self-help skills that children
would need help in learning (Seltzer 1983). There is an expectation, one that is
reflected in the early American literature (Yesseldyke 1978), that these children
are unlikely to progress to a level beyond that of an average seven- or eight-
year-old by the end of their school career.
These kinds of definition create a number of difficulties for the researcher in
drawing together the evidence. For example, the basis for distinguishing
between groups of children with different needs is imprecise and lends itself
to subjective judgements, especially for those individuals who fall on the
margins. The lack of precision creates difficulties communicating with
personnel outside education in the UK, as the terms and methods for dis-
tinguishing between groups may well have little meaning for them. Inter-
nationally, researchers are more likely to adopt a classification based on either
severity or aetiology (Hodapp and Dykens 1994) and one way of indicating the
level of severity is to use a normative measure such as IQ or mental age (MA).
Convention rather than legislation suggests that pupils with SLD fall
between IQs of 20 and 50/55 in the UK (British Psychological Society 1963;
Kushlick and Blunden 1974). The most recent WHO (2001) definitions have
moved away from IQ to a complex system based on activity, participation
and function. It will be interesting to examine the extent to which this
approach is utilized in the research literature. Historically international defi-
nitions have made reference to IQ (WHO 1968, 1980, 1992; APA 2000) and it
is important to recognize how the cut-off points and the descriptors used
vary between countries. Notably, the American literature will use the term
‘severe’ for individuals with an IQ of 20/25 to 35/40 and ‘moderate’ for those
described as having an IQ in the range 35/40 to 50/55. Many other countries
have adopted similar cut-off points, so in the UK when we refer to children
with severe learning difficulties we are including children who, elsewhere,
might be described as having moderate learning difficulties or mental
retardation.
Given definitional differences, prevalence rates are notoriously difficult to
determine (Larson et al. 2001), not least because of regional variations in the
way learning difficulties are recognized and resourced. OECD (2000) figures
highlight this: Italy has the highest figure of 0.88 per cent of the school popu-
lation registered as having severe learning difficulties, New Zealand has 0.45
per cent and the Netherlands 0.44 per cent. These issues are well discussed in
relation to mental retardation, where an estimate of prevalence in the States is
0.78 per cent of the population. This would of course include all those with
intellectual disability and significant limitations in everyday functioning that
occur early in life and before the age of 18 years (APA 2000).
At this point it is also important to recognize that children with severe

learning difficulties often do not simply experience a cognitive impairment.
Research has consistently pointed to the higher incidence of sensory, motor
and health difficulties in this group and also to limitations in speech and
language, with many pupils having multiple communication forms (Male
1996; Smith and Phillips 1992; Mar and Sall 1999).
Research identifying particular cognitive difficulties

in learning
Early research, as we have seen, adopted an information processing approach

to learning and sought to identify deficits particularly in the areas of attention,
discrimination and memory. Clements, writing in 1987, reviewed this litera-
ture with a schematic model of cognitive functioning that considered (a) the
structures (e.g. memory and attention), (b) the processes or strategies a person
has for learning (e.g. how people remember material) and (c) the higher order
structures (the knowledge the person has about the learning process, what
strategies to use when). This model leads him to believe not in a single
dysfunction, but in a diversity of difficulties. It is worth taking a moment
to consider what this means in practice by looking at one aspect, working
memory, that underpins key aspects of school learning (Gathercole and
Pickering 2001).
Working memory is important because it enables us to keep in mind infor-
mation while we perform some mental operation, such as holding in mind the
beginning of a sentence until the speaker reaches the end or making compar-
isons between things we can see or hear. Limitations in working memory (and
consequent difficulties in such areas as literacy and numeracy) can be attrib-
uted to deficits in any one of a number of areas. The fluency with which one
speaks, the speed with which one is able to process information and one’s
ability to use a strategy all influence how well we hold information in mind.
Evidence suggests that children with SLD may experience difficulty in taking
in information and be poor at noting visual changes of colour, form or pres-
ence. These difficulties are possibly due to different search strategies (Bruscia
1981; Whitley et al. 1987; Yando et al. 1989; Burack et al. 2001; Carlin et al.
2003). The quality of information to be remembered may therefore be poor. If
it is auditory information, children may have difficulties ‘keeping it alive’ in
working memory as they process words slowly and often show poor articula-
tion and dysfluencies in speech (Dodd 1976, Willcox 1988) both of which
limit how much can be retained. Additionally, research suggests that they are
poor at using strategies for remembering and monitoring their performance
(Henry and Maclean 2002). Consistently in the literature there is more effi-
cient processing of spatial and visual, compared to verbal and auditory,
material. In considering the implications of this research one needs to take
into account familiarity of material and individual differences but we can
hypothesize that individuals will respond better to visual material and small
chunks of information especially when this is presented in auditory form and
that they need to be helped to use strategies such as rehearsal. While memory
studies almost uniformly point to a deficit, more naturalistic studies suggest
that we should interpret these with caution and recognize that children’s dif-
ficulties may not be apparent in all situations.
So far, therefore, while we have noted research that identifies particular
difficulties that pupils with SLD experience, we have also drawn attention to
the fact that we need to take into account the differential impact of children’s
response to laboratory tasks, which is not necessarily replicated in naturalistic
settings.
Particular difficulties and instructional literature
Looking at the empirical literature on pedagogy, it is possible to identify some

studies that link instructional design to the specific difficulties children have
been found to experience. Wolery and Schuster (1997: 68) review instructional
strategies for pupils with significant disabilities and, as others have done, pro-
pose a continuum based on structure or ‘the extent to which they influence
control over students’ interactions with the environment’. Here we will use
the distinctions made by them to illustrate research on the effectiveness of
different aspects of pedagogy. However, as others have argued, while the
research points to effectiveness, on the occasions where there have been
comparisons between methods, the differences have usually been small,
and there are individual differences in the way learners have responded
(Browder 1997).
Specific methods
Traditional behavioural approaches to teaching faced a number of criticisms,
not least their failure to produce learning that was maintained over time and
generalized to new situations (Porter 1986). In consequence there has been a
shift towards more naturalistic methods of teaching so that aspects that natur-
ally occur in the environment help to shape and control behaviour. While
early approaches espoused the use of errorless learning, with prompting being
faded from greatest assistance to least, more recent research implicitly ques-
tions the use of these methods. The use of delayed prompting is now a feature
of many successful interventions. Further, there is some research to suggest
that time delay is a better system of prompting than increasing assistance over
trials (Wolery and Schuster 1997).
Visual cues
There has also been a growing literature on using visual cues to prompt
responses in order to reduce the dependency on the presence of adults to elicit
a correct response. Here we see recognition of the greater efficiency in visual
processing with the use of photographs and symbols serving as prompts. For
example, Copeland and Hughes (2000) report on the touching of pictures as a
prompt to initiate a task and turning the picture over as a sign of completion;
in this way pupils were learning to monitor their own behaviour and become
independent learners.
Enhancing cues
In recognition of pupils’ difficulty with discrimination, errorless learning
methods have been used to produce a technology for enhancing the cues to
which pupils are expected to attend in discrimination tasks. MacKay et al.
(2002) provide a recent example using an approach that produced successful
matching to sample in nine of their 12 learners. They based their study around
the idea that it is easier to find a target when it is surrounded by identical
distracters: the red football shirt among a group of blue phenomenon.
Training therefore starts with the odd one out of eight identical distracters
and proceeds with the gradual withdrawal of distracters until there are only
two, the correct match and one distracter.
This type of methodology has proved a powerful influence on the teaching
of both numeracy and literacy where children were taught to respond to pre-
sentations rather than given an underlying understanding of the task. The
correct stimulus might be produced larger than the incorrect or be presented
nearer to the subject than the incorrect, or the essential features may be exag-
gerated. An alternative approach described by Carlin et al. (2001) is to use the
‘aha’ factor where clues are gradually introduced that promote understanding
and solutions to a problem and that actively engage the student cognitively in
a discrimination task.
Embedding learning in routines and natural contexts

One of the ways in which these specific approaches have developed is to
teach in more naturalistic contexts so that new learning is embedded within
existing routines. A well researched example is that of the Behaviour Chain
Interruption Strategy (BICS), where a purposeful flow of well established
behaviour is interrupted in a way that demands new types of communi-
cation. There is a growing body of evidence for its effectiveness as a method
of teaching communication (Carter and Grunsell 2001). Interestingly,
this technique is not unlike the sabotage strategies described by Goldbart
(1986).
Self-management
All pupils will be more effective learners if they are able to evaluate their own
progress and set their own targets. Copeland and Hughes (2002) review the
effects of encouraging goal or target setting and its impact on the performance
of pupils with SLD across 17 studies. In some of these studies participants were
taught to monitor their own performance but in all studies learners were
guided in their selection of goals. One of the most frequent strategies was the
use of visual cues, either as reminders of their target or to provide a tangible
measure of progress. Unsurprisingly, more training led to stronger effects, but

providing feedback specifically on the accuracy of their performance was iden-
tified by the reviewers as critical to success. Notably, most of the studies
reviewed were carried out prior to 1990.
More recent research (Porter et al. 2000) has explored the range of methods
that teachers are using in the classroom to promote pupils in target setting.
This highlighted the load on memory of self-monitoring and recording and
the importance of being able to draw on concrete materials as well as visual
images as a way of assessing one’s progression towards a goal. It also, however,
emphasized the careful use of adult questioning and discussion to help pupils
to remember and elaborate on these responses. Teachers use a whole range of
strategies, which are not well represented in the research literature, to promote
shared attention and communication through creating scenarios that nurture
curiosity and interest and increase learners’ ability to reflect on the learning
process.
Literature on teaching literacy
The UK government review of the Literacy Strategy (DfES 2000) indicated how
few published studies mirror current practice and highlighted the fact that,
typically in the past, a functional approach has been adopted to the teaching
of reading. They chart the emphasis in the past on developing readiness for
reading, which children typically did not progress beyond, and the teaching of
functional social sight words. These limitations are not restricted to practice in
the UK. Katims (2000) takes a historical look at teaching literacy and reviews
the guidance given in contemporary American texts for teachers across the
range of learning difficulties and disabilities. He finds only one textbook that
could be described as providing useful information; that is, containing infor-
mation relevant to assessment and procedures for teaching. He contrasts these
with the socially constructed approaches that are available for people with
specific learning disabilities.
One response to developing individualized instruction has been the use of
technology. Basil and Reynes (2003) describe the evaluation outcomes of using
computer-assisted learning to support the teaching of reading and writing to
children with severe learning difficulties who had made little progress using
conventional methods (matching words to pictures, writing words to pictures).
They describe a programme using a whole word selection strategy to make
sentences, which led to significant gains in learning in a three-month period.
The authors do not simply account for this in relation to the massed practice,
but argue that the self-produced and directed methods prompted more
problem-solving approaches to understanding, as well as enabling learners to
work at their own pace and speed. They also provide evidence for implicit
learning as the post-test situation revealed gains in children’s linguistic know-
ledge that had not been a specific part of the programme. Motivation is likely
also to have played a role as the programme introduced unusual characters
and strange situations.
Increasingly, however, it has been recognized that we need to view literacy

in a wider context than simply reading. Kliewer and Bikklen (2001) decry both
a connectionist approach and a developmental approach, which presupposes
that cognitive mastery is required in early stages before literacy can be under-
stood. Powerfully they argue for greater recognition of the symbolism
involved in literacy and literature. There are diverse ways in which this can be
seen to translate into practice. There has been the development and use of
symbolic systems acting as a ‘bridge to traditional literacy’ (Detheridge and
Detheridge 1997) that has its sources outside the research literature.
A second approach lies in the introduction of pupils to the experience of
literature, not simply as a vehicle for teaching communication but to provide
access to a ‘cultural heritage’ (Grove and Park 1996; Grove 1998; Park 1998). The
creativity and interactive characteristics of an approach rooted in drama con-
trast strongly with the more easily evaluated but narrowly defined approaches
to reading that are more widely represented in the research literature.
Maths and severe learning difficulties
If there is little empirical research on teaching literacy to pupils with SLD there
is even less on aspects of numeracy. A review of research with pupils with mild
to moderate mental retardation highlights a similar picture to that of literacy
(Butler et al. 2001). Approaches typically involved the use of highly structured
direct instruction methods and techniques such as constant time delay. Butler
et al. do note a shift towards problem-solving instruction but these approaches
were fewer in number and largely involved pupils with mild learning
difficulties.
The limitations of the instruction literature should not be taken as evidence
that children with severe learning difficulties are unable to learn about
number. As with other aspects of learning there are large individual differ-
ences, with some pupils providing little formal evidence of learning to count,
through to those who are proficient in counting and demonstrate an under-
lying understanding of what it means to count (Porter 1998, 1999). Some
pupils are not only able to show proficient skills but able to apply them to
problem-solving. One area in which the profile of pupils with SLD has been
found to be different generally from that of pre-schoolers is their acquisition of
the counting string (Porter 1998). Learning the sequence of number words is
an auditory sequential memory task and therefore these findings should not
surprise us.
Conclusion
In this chapter we have explored some of the more recent literature that
attempts to determine the specific difficulties experienced by this population
in learning. It has highlighted the difficulty of attempting to separate particu-
lar aspects of learning and the importance of context in providing multiple
cues that support the acquisition process. The studies typically involve partici-
pants who are on the margins of severe and moderate learning difficulties, and
where they use matched samples, are methodologically problematic. For any
teacher it is perhaps unsurprising that research has focused on those most
amenable to assessment and intervention. This literature is dominated by psy-
chologists working within particular paradigms that, many would argue, pro-
vide a very narrow view of learning. It has, however, provided some empirical
evidence for a link between specific deficits and strategies in teaching that
meet these needs. While its application to curriculum practices has been criti-
cized, the work does draw attention to the importance of learning to learn
skills, those of self-management, self-assessment and target setting.
However, as the reader will note, there are a number of tensions in accounts
of this kind. In our search for a specialist pedagogy we have inevitably ended
up with a catalogue of deficits rather than a celebration of achievements. The
focus on limitations can lead, and has led until recently, to limited expecta-
tions in a number of key areas, notably core skills of numeracy and literacy,
and to research focusing almost exclusively on a narrow range of learning
paradigms. While the field is indebted to psychologists who have systematic-
ally proved learning ability in youngsters who were thought ineducable at one
time, they have also constrained what has been taught as well as the
approaches to teaching. The notion of pedagogy can be difficult to separate
from that of content. The use of adapted materials and structured support
systems can fundamentally change the nature and context of learning. There-
fore, there comes a point on the continuum where the combined methodolo-
gies are so fundamentally different, and applied in a different context, that
one can only refer to them as distinct.
Perhaps more fundamentally, research evidence is not sufficient to inspire
teachers to adopt particular approaches. Arguably, we need to examine more
closely teachers’ beliefs about the nature of learning and also what evidence
they look for in evaluating their impact (Jordan and Stanovich 2003).
Stephenson’s (2002) research suggests that teachers look for intervention
strategies that promote interactions with pupils. We might therefore look to
paradigms of learning that are consistent with this emphasis in developing
and evaluating pedagogies. Daniels (2003), drawing on Vygotskian accounts of
learning, argues that teachers of children with SLD should be placing more
emphasis on social and participatory learning, thus fundamentally changing
the contexts of learning and ultimately our view of the communities in which
learning takes place.
In summary, the somewhat tentative conclusions that we draw from
examining the empirical evidence are:
• there is evidence of particular difficulties in learning;

• it is not altogether meaningful to attempt to try to pin these to particular
parts of an information processing system without recognizing their inter-
active component;
• research has typically not taken into account the meaningfulness of the task
and its potential differential impact on learners;
• empirical evidence is also constrained by the weakness of research designs

that seek to compare groups of children;
• specific instructional methods that take into account these difficulties in
learning have been evaluated as effective, although we need to recognize the
evidence of individual differences and idiosyncratic responses;
• while these may be conceived as lying along a continuum, traditional struc-
tured responses now use methodologies that mirror more closely naturally
occurring learning contexts but are applied in a systematic way;
• the use of these methods can be seen to constrain what is taught, and there-
fore it becomes difficult to separate discussion of pedagogy from curriculum
content;
• alternative accounts of learning are likely to prove more inspirational to
teachers, and could lead to greater creativity and problem-solving about
how to teach pupils with SLD effectively.
And the continuum debate? We are left with the view that there is a point
along the continuum where the presenting features are such that the approach
is likely to appear to be different. The point at which this occurs is, we would
argue, dependent on the perception of the viewer, and more specifically the
paradigm of learning that they adopt.
Summary
Nature of the group

• Historically, definition of the group in the UK was by provision attended; this is
associated with lack of precision and subjectivity.
• Internationally, reference is made to definitions by IQ and/or aetiology (and this
is subject to criticism).
• There is a higher incidence of health, motor and sensory difficulties with this
group.
Pedagogy
• Errorless learning is now being questioned.
• There is increasing use of visual cues (e.g. photographs, symbols) to prompt
response.
• Self-monitoring and self-management are increasingly seen as important (also
reflecting motivation and linked with some ICT-based approaches).
• Enhancement of key cues is used as a teaching strategy.
• Modelling of responses followed by prompting is a useful strategy.
Curriculum
• Behavioural approaches are criticized in relation to the maintenance and
generalization of learning.
• There is a resultant shift to more naturalistic methods.

• There is a preponderance of reductionist research designs in relation to
curriculum evaluation in this field.
• There has been a shift to a ‘cultural heritage’ perspective regarding literacy.
Knowledge
• There is a bias towards aetiology-specific studies (US influence).
• Historically, there has been an association with deficits in working memory, but
this has been contested in more recent work characterized by higher ecological
validity.

• The nature of the research evades this point (can only be inferred).
• Presenting features of teaching strategies may appear different (but, by
implication, be similar).
• Perceptions of difference in relation to teaching strategy will reflect the viewer’s
stance about learning (and pupils?).

• A key question is posed: at what point does ‘difference’ along a continuum
(or several continua?) of teaching strategy become distinctive?
• A research design issue is whether robust designs are associated with reduction-
ist methods, while more creative methods are less amenable to (conventionally
defined) rigorous evaluation.
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Profound and multiple
learning difficulties
Jean Ware
Definition
When we originally introduced the term ‘profound and multiple learning

difficulties’ (PMLD; Evans and Ware 1987) it was in an attempt to overcome
the problems caused by the lack of a clear definition for that group of children
who had both a profound level of learning difficulty and other severe impair-
ments, and who, in England and Wales at that time, were normally educated
in the ‘special care’ classes of SLD schools. Since we originally coined the term
there has been much debate about its utility and appropriateness, and a num-
ber of alternatives have been suggested (e.g. complex needs, SCAA 1996;
profound intellectual and multiple disability (PIMD), Hogg 1991).
Hogg (1991), in expressing his preference for PIMD, argues that to refer to
the problems experienced by this group as ‘learning difficulties’ fails to recog-
nize the full impact of profound intellectual impairment on all aspects of
information processing, ignores the extensive organic brain damage that
many of them have and inaccurately suggests that sensory and physical
disabilities are essentially difficulties in learning. There is little space within
this chapter for a debate about terminology, but, despite the force of these
objections, I have chosen to stay with PMLD because it is widely accepted
within education in Britain and I believe reflects the conceptualization of spe-
cial needs underlying current legislation and guidance (Education Act 1996;
DfES 2001). That is, in an educational context what is important about dis-
abilities and difficulties, however caused, is their impact on learning. This is
not to deny that PMLD has profound consequences for all areas of life;
instead it is to reiterate that at the heart of the educational enterprise for all
children is enabling learning. It follows from this that a wide variety of
approaches to overcoming or circumventing pupils’ learning difficulties

may be appropriate, not all of which would traditionally be considered as
educational (see Chapter 1).
In 1987 I defined PMLD with reference to a definition of multiple handicap
given by De Jong:
De Jong . . . has suggested that the term ‘multiply-handicapped’ should
only be used to describe those persons who have two or more severe
impairments. By severe impairment he means one which by itself would
constitute a hindrance to learning such as to lead to the necessity for
special methods to ensure development.
(Ware 1987: 21)
According to this definition, someone with PMLD has at least two severe
impairments, one of which is profound learning difficulties. Profound
learning difficulties are, in turn, defined according to the international
classification of diseases (ICD) manual published by the World Health Organ-
ization, according to which people with profound learning difficulties (mental
retardation in ICD terminology) have an IQ score of below 20.
In the context of this book, it is interesting to note that this definition with
its reference to the need for ‘special methods to ensure development’ impli-
citly adopts a group (general) differences position. Since 1987 there have been
a number of attempts to refine the definition of PMLD. Most recently ACCAC
(2003) has proposed the following:
Pupils with PMLD have a profound cognitive impairment/learning dif-
ficulty, leading to significant delay in reaching developmental milestones.
Such pupils will be operating overall at a very early developmental level
and are likely to display at least one or more of the following:
• Significant motor impairments
• Significant sensory impairments
• Complex health care needs/dependence on technology
Pupils with PMLD will have a statement of Special Educational Needs and
are likely to be working at p levels 1–3 for the majority/all of their school
life. Staff will almost certainly experience great difficulty in establishing
reliable and consistent methods of communicating with them and due to
high levels of dependency for basic self care such as dressing, toileting and
feeding they are also likely to require extra resources in school such as:
• Specialist staffing and substantial support
• Adapted curriculum and Individual Educational Plans
• Mobility aids and therapy programmes
• Frequent assistance and medical support
N.B. This definition does not include those whose difficulties are believed
to result from ASD unless this is also combined with a profound level of
general learning difficulties.
This definition (which draws on earlier work by Byers (2000) and Julian
Profound and multiple learning difficulties 69
(2002) and will be used for the remainder of this chapter) attempts to define
PMLD in terms of its educational implications. It reflects what seems to be
a general agreement among classroom teachers about the existence of a
group of children who present special pedagogical challenges due both to the
overall complexity and severity of their disabilities and to the profundity of
their intellectual impairment. As McInnes and Treffry (1993) state in relation
to deafblindness, it is not possible to separate out the different aspects of
their disability because the problem lies in the combination. This definition
excludes from the PMLD group two groups of children who have often been
included among those with complex needs: (a) children with both severe
physical difficulties and severe learning difficulties; and (b) children with
autistic spectrum disorders. The rationale for these exclusions is that pupils
with PMLD have educational needs that are sufficiently different from these
other groups to justify separate consideration. Thus it is arguable that this
definition, compiled by a group of experienced teachers in the field, also
implies a group differences approach. This contrasts with the philosophy
that underlies the Code of Practice, which tends to emphasize unique indi-
vidual differences, and is likewise reflected in the way in which different
groups of pupils with special educational needs are defined and described.
Even at the level of definition, then, it is difficult to avoid leaning towards
one or the other position.
Two characteristics of people with PMLD that are not mentioned in the
definition above, but that are of considerable importance with regard to peda-
gogy, are behavioural state and behavioural rate. Studies of behaviour states in
normal young infants suggest that they are only ‘ready to learn’ when awake
and alert, which may be as little as 20 per cent of the time. A significant issue
with regard to behavioural state – which causes considerable problems for
teachers – is the amount of time some children with PMLD spend either actu-
ally asleep or drowsy. For example, Guess et al. (1990) found that in the group
they studied, students spent less than half their time awake and alert. These
students therefore spent half their school time in states that were not
conducive to learning.
The term ‘behavioural rate’ is used to refer to the average number of volun-
tary behaviours or actions that an individual produces per minute. Individuals
with PMLD often have very low behavioural rates. For example, in my own
observations of children in four special care classes I found that the average
behavioural rate in each class was around five behaviours per minute (Ware
1987), considerably lower than that of a normal young infant.
Another crucial issue for pedagogy is whether there is evidence of differences
in information processing between people with PMLD and those with differ-
ent special educational needs or without any such needs. Unfortunately, there
is little research on information processing in people with PMLD, but what
there is suggests that, in general, development parallels that of young infants
operating at a similar developmental level (Kahn 1976; Remington 1996).
However, the combination of an extremely low behavioural rate with a short-
term memory span, which would normally be found in a young infant with a
much higher behavioural rate, has profound implications for learning and
thus potentially for teaching strategies. Furthermore, there is some tentative

evidence that short-term memory span may be less good than that of normal
young infants (Kail 1990).
Prevalence
There are few studies of the prevalence of PMLD, and this probably reflects a
generally high level of agreement about prevalence, at least amongst school-
age children in developed societies. Studies from France (Rumeau-Rouquette
et al. 1998), Norway (Stromme and Valvatne 1998) and Western Australia
(Wellesley et al. 1992) all indicate a prevalence rate of between 0.6 and 0.8 per
thousand. Studies also agree that there are few people with a profound level of
intellectual impairment who are not multiply disabled (Kelleher and Mulcahy
1985; Arvio and Sillanpaa 2003) and that life expectancy among this group is
considerably shorter than average. Arvio and Sillanpaa also suggest that (in
contrast to some other groups) prevalence rates have changed little in the past
few decades. Although almost all have organic brain damage, children with
PMLD form a very diverse group, with a large number of rare syndromes each
being responsible for a small percentage of the overall total. The one exception
is cerebral palsy, which accounts for between 20 and 30 per cent of the group
(Evans and Ware 1987; Wellesley et al. 1992).
Despite their low numbers, children with PMLD represent a particular chal-
lenge for education. As the definition above suggests, from a developmental
perspective they are likely to spend their entire school career at a develop-
mental level that other children, including the majority of those with severe
learning difficulties, have passed before school entry. Furthermore, there are
considerable limitations to a developmental perspective for this group, all of
whom have several severe impairments.
Teaching strategies for children with PMLD
Despite the group differences perspective implied in some definitions, few

teaching strategies are promoted exclusively or specifically for use with chil-
dren with PMLD. Indeed, Ault et al. (1995) claim that developments in educa-
tion for people with PMLD have not kept pace with innovations in other areas
of SEN. Those teaching strategies that have been devised specifically for this
group are mainly to be found in the area of communication. This is agreed as a
major focus in the education of pupils with PMLD, although the debate con-
tinues about the relevance of English as an academic subject. Two main types
of specialised approach can be identified: those based on caregiver–infant
interactions (Nind and Hewett 1994; Ware 1994, 1996), and those that capital-
ize on the ability of ICT to provide an alternative means of communication for
children with severe physical disabilities as well as a severe or profound level of
learning difficulty. These approaches are discussed in some detail here; other
approaches sometimes used with this group, but not specific to them (such as
PECs), are not discussed here.
Approaches based on caregiver–infant interaction
Responsive environments
Responsive environments, according to Ware (1996, 2003), are interactive
environments in which people get responses to their actions, get the
opportunity to respond to the actions of others and have an opportunity
to take the lead in interaction. These three principles are used to summarize
the characteristics of positive caregiver–infant interactions, on which the
responsive environments approach is based. As would be predicted from
the caregiver interaction research, when staff modified their interactions to
fit more closely with these principles the children made progress in the areas
of communication and socialization. The research project used a multiple
baseline design to demonstrate that when staff changed their interactive
style to one that was more responsive, pupil behaviour also changed
and more sophisticated communication behaviours began to develop
(Ware 1994).
Intensive interaction
Intensive interaction is the name given by Nind and Hewett to the teaching
approach they devised for ‘students who experienced severe difficulties in
learning and relating to others’ (Nind 1996: 48). It was specifically designed
to address the needs of students who, in addition to severe or profound
learning difficulties appear remote or withdrawn. Like my own responsive
environments approach, Intensive Interaction is based on research into the
interactions between infants and caregivers. It similarly seeks to replicate
central features of ‘good’ care-giver infant interaction but in 1:1 sessions.
(Nind and Hewett 1994)
The main differences in approach between Ware and Nind and Hewett lie in
the explicit use of targets, which is advocated by Ware and rejected by Nind
and Hewett, and the use of timetabled, structured 1:1 interaction sessions by
Nind and Hewett, while Ware advocates deliberate use of the basic principles
in all activities.
Evaluating intensive interaction is problematic because its proponents
repeatedly claim that it is about process rather than product and that it is
therefore inappropriate to set learning targets (Nind and Hewett 1994; Nind
1996). In practice, however, claims are made for intensive interaction in terms
of developmental gains – for example, the development of anticipation and
ways of asking for ‘more’ (Nind and Hewett 1994: 196) – which are part of
the recognized sequence of communication development. Furthermore, the
theoretical underpinnings of intensive interaction are essentially develop-
mental, with the use of techniques that are taken from ‘normal’ caregiver–
infant interaction being based in research that demonstrates the crucial role of
interaction in the development of cognition, communication and socializa-
tion. Thus it seems reasonable to attempt to evaluate intensive interaction
both in its own terms (the extent to which mutually enjoyable interactions are
established where they were previously absent) and in terms of its efficacy in
promoting communication development, since this is increasingly seen as

central to the education of pupils with PMLD.
Although intensive interaction has never been compared directly with any
alternative approach there have been a number of attempts to evaluate its
effectiveness using either case studies or single subject research designs. In
general the case study reports (Watson 1994; Hewett 1998) give too little detail
for the effectiveness of the approach in terms of its impact on the development
of communication and socialization to be properly assessed. However, Watson
and Fisher (1997) report on a group of five children with PMLD from whom
data were collected over a school year during intensive interaction and
teacher-directed ‘group time’. They state that by the end of the study all the
children showed more advanced and consistent behaviour during the inten-
sive interaction sessions, but the study can be criticized for the choice of com-
parison activity (a group activity not specifically aimed at the development of
communication). However, studies using a single-subject approach (Nind
1996; Kellett 2000; Nind and Kellett 2002) provide good experimental
evidence for the efficacy of daily intensive interaction sessions in developing
communication, and increased involvement in positive social interaction.
There is also some evidence that intensive interaction sometimes leads to the
reduction of stereotyped behaviour (Nind and Kellett 2002), but none that
it is more effective in this regard than other strategies (such as behaviour
modification). However, Goldbart (2002) points out that this paper highlights
the tension between the developmental basis of intensive interaction and the
espousal of a non-directive approach in which particular behaviours are not
targeted, but, for example, the reduction of stereotyped behaviour is
welcomed when it occurs. However, it is clear that intensive interaction, used
regularly, can increase mutual participation and enjoyment and contribute to
the development of communication.
In summary, while further research is needed, the evidence so far available
from both the responsive environments approach and intensive interaction
supports the use of teaching strategies based on caregiver–infant interaction
with children with PMLD.
Using ICT
The use of ICT, especially switches (see below), with pupils with PMLD has
grown considerably over the past decade, and a number of authors describe
the use of ICT to facilitate communication and social interaction with these
pupils. The extent to which the use of a switch to enable an individual to
communicate more effectively can be regarded as a teaching strategy is ques-
tionable. However, the use of switches as part of a strategy for teaching
communication skills is described by Schweigert and Rowland (Schweigert
1989; Schweigert and Rowland 1992) and a number of authors also describe
the use of switches or switch-based communication aids to teach
choice-making.
Schweigert and Rowland have devised an instructional sequence designed to
teach children with severe multiple disabilities the early steps in intentional
communication using microtechnology, going from what they describe as

social contingency awareness (the knowledge that one’s own behaviour can
reliably affect the behaviour of another person) to making choices using
symbols.
Choice-making
Schweigert and Rowland see choice-making as part of an overall early com-
munication sequence, but teaching choice-making as a discrete skill has
attracted a good deal of attention from researchers working with people with
PMLD. Choice-making is seen as important, not only because it is a step in the
development of communication, but because the ability to make choices is
seen as an important component of both autonomy and quality of life. Two
main strategies are used to teach choice-making: the provision of switch-
activated reinforcers, and prompting. In practice these two strategies are often
combined, with prompting being used to teach switch activation and/or dis-
crimination between the different choices available. In general, published
studies report that choice-making was successfully acquired by the partici-
pants (Kearney and McKnight 1997), with some participants successfully
choosing items via symbolic means (e.g. Parsons et al. 1997).
Teaching communication skills through the medium of academic subjects

Subsequent to the introduction of the National Curriculum in England and
Wales and the 1999 revision of the Primary Curriculum in Ireland there has
been much discussion of using academic subjects as a context or vehicle for
teaching. An example of this approach is the work of Grove and Park (1996,
2001; Park 1998), which uses ‘classic literature’ (The Odyssey, Macbeth, A
Christmas Carol) as a way of teaching communication skills to groups of chil-
dren with severe and profound learning difficulties. There are no formal evalu-
ations of this work, although there is anecdotal evidence of positive responses
from individual pupils with PMLD (e.g. Park 2002).
Contingency awareness
The acquisition of contingency awareness – ‘a generalised cognitive awareness
of the relationship between behaviours and their consequences’ (Hanson and
Hanline 1985) – is a crucial step in early development, which for normal
infants takes place between three and six months. Scattered through the psy-
chological literature is evidence that some, but not all, people with PMLD
acquire contingency awareness. Research into strategies by which it may be
taught is therefore of great importance.
Two main approaches can be identified, both involving the use of switch-
operated reinforcers. The first of these strategies involves applying directly
to children with PMLD the paradigm used to demonstrate contingency
awareness in young infants. In this paradigm the child is carefully positioned
so that some voluntary movement that they make on a relatively frequent
basis operates a switch connected to a reinforcer. Operation of the switch

delivers a predetermined amount of reinforcer. Learning is judged according to
two main criteria: a significant increase in the movement that operates the
switch and (sometimes) affective responses (smiling, vocalizing etc.). By no
means all the studies employing this approach are using it as a teaching strat-
egy. Instead, most have as their aim the demonstration of the existence of
contingency awareness, with intervention sessions often being continued over
a week or less (e.g. Watson et al. 1982; O’Brien et al. 1994).
The second approach entails prompting the child to operate the switch in an
attempt to facilitate learning. This approach is based on the hypothesis that in
order to learn contingency awareness, the child needs to experience the link
between their action and the consequence frequently to overcome the possible
brevity of short-term memory, and that prompting can help to establish this
link.
We (Ware et al. 2003) have recently compared these two strategies as part of a
larger study in which we are attempting to teach children with PMLD contin-
gency awareness using frequent physical prompts. Our strategy uses a micro-
computer to assist the teacher to prompt frequently and consistently, and to
record data. The prompting regime has its basis in what is known about the
short-term memory span at very early developmental levels, which is esti-
mated by Watson, among others, to be around 5–7 seconds (Watson 1967).
Using a multiple baseline design we have compared the learning of identical
twin girls using the unprompted and prompted paradigms. Since the child
who was not initially prompted showed no evidence of learning while her
prompted twin began to learn, and the initially unprompted twin also began
to learn once prompted, we tentatively conclude that frequent prompting is
the more successful teaching strategy at these very early developmental levels.
Teaching knowledge
A number of common factors can be identified in the different successful

teaching strategies for pupils with PMLD:
1 They have strong theoretical underpinnings, usually in cognitive or devel-
opmental psychology.
2 All involve frequent (daily where possible) intervention sessions carried out
over an extended period.
3 All involve highly structured interventions, which normally require a
degree of staff training for their successful implementation.
4 Systematic and detailed data-gathering is used to inform assessment and
teaching decisions.
This clearly places these approaches at the high intensity end of continua of
pedagogic strategies (see Chapter 1). What initially appear to be highly special-
ized methods can be conceptualized as at one end of a continuum of strategies
that are applicable to all children. The use of switch-operated reinforcers, for
example, is designed to provide clear consistent and immediate feedback;
systematic data-gathering enables the teacher to monitor learning effectively;

frequent sessions ensure sufficient practice for learning and mastery.
It is clear from the foregoing discussion of effective strategies for teaching
pupils with PMLD that they are often operating at very early developmental
levels. The content of teaching is frequently derived from the study of normal
development in infancy. Targets include things such as developing contin-
gency awareness, or making a choice between two events. Teachers working
with this group therefore need in-depth knowledge of infant development.
Additionally, since pupils with PMLD also have severe motor and/or sensory
impairments, teachers require knowledge of how these impact on develop-
ment. Interestingly, even those authors who see developmental goals as of
questionable relevance for pupils with PMLD regard in-depth knowledge of
early development as crucial for teachers (e.g. Ferguson and Baumgart 1991).
While some of this knowledge may also be required by teachers working with
multisensory-impaired pupils or profoundly autistic pupils, it is not required
by teachers working with other groups. It is, in essence, specialized knowledge.
Furthermore, there is some evidence to suggest that such specialized
knowledge has a positive impact on teaching effectiveness.
For example, Nind (1996) argues that in order to use intensive interaction,
teachers will need to draw on their knowledge of ‘good’ caregiver–infant inter-
actions, and that in-depth knowledge is essential in order for teachers to make
appropriate teaching decisions in the course of interactions with pupils.
Furthermore, there is some evidence that teachers who have some degree of
specialised knowledge deploy teaching strategies more effectively. Ware et al.
(1996) found that teachers who had completed a specific Induction Course for
working with this group interacted more effectively with their pupils. The
responsive environments project included a staff training component, which
was most effective for those staff who had previously lacked specialist know-
ledge relating to teaching this group. Each of these studies examines the
impact of short, highly focused training on particular aspects of teaching
pupils with PMLD. This evidence is not extensive, but it is sufficient to suggest
that further research into the impact of specialized knowledge on teaching
effectiveness is needed.
Curriculum adaptations
If the requirement for specialized knowledge derives in part from the nature of
the goals for children with PMLD, this implies a question about the level at
which a common curriculum may be said to apply to this group. In England,
there has been fierce debate about the relevance of traditional curriculum
subjects, or even areas of learning for this group. If learning becomes more
differentiated as it progresses then there is a corollary that at very early levels it
is relatively undifferentiated (i.e. there are fewer discrete areas). This provides a
possible resolution of the problem: if academic subjects can be seen to emerge
from areas of learning, then what may be different for pupils with PMLD is
the earliness of the stage at which they enter the curriculum; thus areas of
learning, broadly interpreted, could be regarded as common rather than sim-

ply aims and principles. This does not, however, entirely resolve the difficulty.
As Ferguson and Baumgart (1991) have highlighted, the issue of what to teach
and with what aim has continued to be a major challenge. Thus programme
objectives remain a problem, with the underlying issue being not whether
they are the same or different from those for other pupils, but whether we are
able to conceptualize them in such a way as to make a real difference to
children’s lives.
The international context
Children with PMLD are still only fully within the education system in rela-
tively few countries. The research on teaching strategies referred to in this
chapter comes almost exclusively from these countries, and particularly from
Britain and North America, where there is now 30 years’ experience of educat-
ing this group. There is also interesting work being carried out in Japan and the
Netherlands, where the reportedly excellent provision for children with PMLD
within the health service raises interesting issues about the context for
education.
Implications for future research
As will be clear from the preceding discussion, little research has been carried
out with children with profound and multiple learning difficulties, and even
less that takes a specifically educational perspective. There are a number of
reasons for this: examination of the research that does exist shows that there
are huge problems of attrition, partly due to the high health needs of many
participants. Additionally, the length of time that it takes for people with
PMLD to learn means that research is necessarily long-term and expensive.
None the less, it is possible to identify three critical areas where research could
currently make a real impact on the development of effective teaching strat-
egies for this group. Information processing, and the neurobiological basis for
this, is perhaps the most critical area. Little is currently known about the
extent to which findings about the development of memory in normal infants
can be applied to this group. The effective utilization of ICT is also an import-
ant area. A final, crucial, issue is the evaluation of the impact of specialist
knowledge and training on the extent to which teachers employ effective
teaching strategies.
Conclusions
There is still comparatively little research evidence about education for pupils
with PMLD in general and the efficacy of specialized pedagogy in particular.
The difficulties of doing research with this group, particularly the time needed
to demonstrate progress, remain a major obstacle. However, even where
techniques appear highly specialized, they share common characteristics with

‘good’ teaching in general, and it is possible to conceptualize them as lying at
the high intensity extreme continua of strategies (see Chapter 1). The evidence
also suggests that educational progress depends heavily on skilled and know-
ledgeable teaching that takes account of the pupils’ developmental level, both
in setting goals and in teaching methodology.
A more pressing issue for teachers working with this group is the extent to
which even skilled and successful teaching makes a real difference to child-
ren’s lives. There is conclusive evidence that pupils with PMLD can learn (e.g.
Remington 1996). What is in doubt for some is whether, for pupils with the
most profound disabilities, this learning constitutes significant progress
towards the common aims. To some extent conclusions on this point inevit-
ably reflect individual value positions. The real difficulties faced by teachers in
the classroom should not be underestimated. None the less, for me, the evi-
dence that children with PMLD enjoy learning is compelling evidence that the
enterprise is worthwhile.
Summary
Nature of the group

• There is debate about terminology and defining criteria.
• Profound cognitive impairment and learning difficulties are agreed as the basis.
• Children operate at very early developmental level, and are likely to display
significant motor impairments, to have significant sensory impairments and to
have complex care needs.
• Children with autistic spectrum disorders are not included.
Pedagogy
• This is largely subsumed in discussion of curriculum.
• Contingency awareness is seen as underpinning learning.
Curriculum
• A ‘responsive environments’ approach is used (includes use of targets).
• An intensive interaction approach is used (excludes use of targets).
• Communication is a major focus.
• ICT is used as a facilitator for communication.
• The teaching of choice-making is seen as a discrete skill.
• There are fewer discrete areas of learning (‘subjects’) than at later developmental
levels.
Knowledge
• Behavioural state is important; possibly awake and alert less than 20 per cent of
the time.
• Behavioural rate is important; possibly only five behaviours per minute.

• In general, development parallels that of very young infants at similar develop-
mental levels but there may be differences due to the interaction of impairment,
so normal infant development can only be a rough guide.
• But short term memory span may be less good that that for otherwise develop-
mentally similar young infants.

• The definition implies a group/general differences position.
• Teaching content is often derived from study of normal infant development.
• Specialized knowledge is very important with this group.
• Children are distinctive in the level at which they enter the curriculum.
• Highly specialized techniques share common characteristics with ‘good’
teaching in general.
• The ‘high intensity’ end of continua of pedagogic strategies is illustrated.

• The ‘developmentally normal’ is a strong reference point.
• There are difficulties in researching claims about distinctive pedagogies for this
group, especially the time needed to show change.
• Distinctiveness lies in the interaction of specialized knowledge with the high
intensity end of the pedagogic strategies continuum.
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lectual handicap in Western Australia: a community study, Medical Journal of Australia,
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Children with Down’s
syndrome
Jennifer Wishart
The task of this book is to evaluate whether meeting the special educational
needs (SEN) of pupils with learning difficulties requires a different set of peda-
gogical skills and a new knowledge base or whether the portfolio of skills
normally held by any good teacher, appropriately differentiated, is sufficient.
The rapid move towards mainstreaming necessitates an urgent answer to this
question. Teachers today are increasingly expected to be able fully to meet the
requirements of pupils with SEN from within resources currently available to
them. Classroom assistants and learning support teachers are often on hand,
but the responsibility for providing appropriate educational support ultim-
ately resides with the classroom teacher. Some will not have expected to meet
this challenge within their teaching career and some may be unwilling to try
to meet it if they do not feel they have ready access to the pedagogic strategies
best suited to this group of children.
This chapter looks at what is known about teaching children with Down’s
syndrome. As we shall see, the evidence base for assessing the efficacy of con-
trasting pedagogies with children with Down’s syndrome is very thin indeed.
At the very fundamental level of information processing and motivational
processes, there is evidence that children with Down’s syndrome may show
some syndrome-specific difficulties in learning. However, many of the prob-
lems the children face are undoubtedly shared by other children with similar
levels of learning difficulties arising from other causes. To ensure a broader
picture of the issues, this chapter should therefore be read in conjunction with
the chapters covering mild, moderate, severe and profound difficulties, as
all these levels of learning difficulty can be found in children with Down’s
syndrome (see Chapters 15, 14, 5 and 6 respectively).
Down’s syndrome
Down’s syndrome is a genetic disorder that accounts for the largest single sub-
grouping of pupils with severe learning disabilities.1 In the 1920s, it was
unusual for someone with Down’s syndrome to survive into their teens and,
even in the 1960s, most children and adults with Down’s syndrome were still
being cared for in residential institutions, with no access to formal education.
Today, in most developed countries, children with Down’s syndrome now
have essentially the same rights to education as other children and many
receive their education, or at least part of it, in mainstream schools. Many
adults now live semi-independently in the community and are in some form
of supported part-time employment. Most enjoy relatively good health and
average life expectancy is now around 50 (Yang et al. 1997).
As well as these changes in health, social and educational circumstances,
there have been very significant advances in our understanding of the genetic
and neurological mechanisms that underlie the cognitive impairments typic-
ally seen in Down’s syndrome. These advances have provided helpful insights
into the origin of the learning difficulties experienced but as yet have not led
to any treatment that might prevent or reduce these. Some children do com-
paratively well in school but average academic achievement levels remain low
and investment in early intervention programmes and in special education
has so far failed to produce substantive or lasting benefits for the majority of
children (for an overview see Spiker and Hopmann 1997). Few children reach
developmental ages of more than six to eight years, with language develop-
ment often even further delayed in terms of age equivalence. This clearly poses
some very real challenges to educational inclusion, especially at secondary
level, where the developmental gap between pupils with Down’s syndrome
and their age peers can be very wide indeed.
Down’s syndrome is the most easily recognizable of the many childhood
disorders leading to special educational needs. Members of the general public
will readily offer views on likely personality characteristics (Wishart and John-
ston 1990), developmental, social and educational potential (Wishart and
Manning 1996; Gilmore et al. 2003), lifespan and health needs (NOP/Down
Syndrome Association 2003) – despite having had little, if any, contact with
anyone with Down’s syndrome. Most also have low expectations of academic
potential, often unnecessarily low (Wishart and Manning 1996). What runs
common to these views is a tendency to consider all people with Down’s syn-
drome as being alike. In reality, children with Down’s syndrome can vary in
their ability, progress and personalities as much as ordinary children. It is not
surprising, though, that only a minority of the public – 20 per cent in a recent
Australian study – believe that a regular classroom is the best educational set-
ting for such children. More surprising perhaps is the fact that many teachers
share these views (Gilmore et al. 2003). Public and professional acceptance of
those with Down’s syndrome may have changed to some extent but there is
limited evidence that underlying beliefs or knowledge have changed to the
same extent.
Children with Down’s syndrome 83
What is Down’s syndrome?
Down’s syndrome is the result of a random accident at the very earliest stage in
development, at the point before sperm and egg first come together. Down’s
syndrome can occur in any pregnancy at any maternal age. Although for
reasons not yet understood older mothers are more at risk, higher fertility rates
in younger women result in the majority of Down’s syndrome babies being
born to mothers in the normal child-bearing age range. Down’s syndrome
results from the presence of an extra copy, in whole or part, of chromosome
21; in many publications, especially medical ones, the term ‘trisomy 21’ is also
used. Chromosome 21 is one of the smallest human chromosomes. This was
previously believed to have around 1500 genes but was estimated in the
Human Genome Project to have 225 genes, now revised to 329 (Roizen &
Patterson, 2003). Whatever their number, the resulting extra copies of these
genes – in themselves all perfectly normal – lead to harmful ‘gene dosage’
effects from conception onwards. The extra copy disrupts physical and mental
development throughout childhood and into adult life. Inherited genetic
characteristics, environmental factors, upbringing and educational opportun-
ities also play an important role in determining developmental outcomes,
however, just as they do for other children (Buckley and Bird 2001; DSA 2003).
Space limits the amount of information on Down’s syndrome that can be
provided here. A number of readily available, up-to-date sources provide useful
introductions for both parents and professionals, however (e.g. Stratford and
Gunn 1996; Selikowitz 1997; Lewis 2003; see also the websites listed at the end
of this chapter). It is important to note that, contrary to common belief,
Down’s syndrome is not a disability that will soon no longer be with us.
Approximately 1 in every 1000 babies is born with Down’s syndrome. Two
babies are born every day in the UK, around 5000 each year in the USA and
around 100,000 per year worldwide. Incidence rates are broadly similar across
countries and have shown no marked decline in recent years. Religious views
on abortion influence birth rates in some countries, as does the availability of
pre-natal screening, but the latter has failed to have as great an impact on
incidence as initially predicted. Life expectancy has increased greatly in all but
the most disadvantaged of countries and so prevalence rates are rising rather
than falling.
As most people with Down’s syndrome can expect to lead a relatively
healthy and long life these days, providing more effective education is crucial.
Some children benefit more than others from schooling, some may need more
help than others, but all can be expected to make measurable progress during
these important years. However, it is important to be realistic about what may
be achieved and to recognize how hard a child with Down’s syndrome will
have to work to reach the same educational milestones as other children.
Health
Children with Down’s syndrome used to have a very short lifespan, often
succumbing to infections or heart disease in early childhood. Advances in
antibiotics and in surgical techniques – along with changes in attitudes to

medical interventions for children with SLD – now mean that most can look
forward to a comparatively healthy childhood. A life expectancy of 50–60
years is now average and in some countries people with Down’s syndrome are
living into their eighties and nineties. At the cellular level, there is evidence of
an accelerated ageing process but this is not always accompanied by evidence
of mental deterioration or Alzheimer-like dementia in later adulthood
(Holland 2000). Many adults benefit from access to further educational
opportunities and continue to add to their skills in useful ways throughout life.
Around 40 per cent of children are born with heart defects of varying degrees
of severity but in most cases these can be surgically corrected or managed
through carefully monitored medication. Susceptibility to leukaemia and
some other childhood diseases is also raised but is still more uncommon than
common. Over 50 per cent of children with Down’s syndrome have to cope
with a hearing and/or visual impairment. Again, this can be of varying sever-
ity. Visual impairments are not always properly diagnosed and hearing
impairment is often missed, especially if intermittent, with classroom difficul-
ties often wrongly attributed solely to the child’s learning disability. Clearly
sensory impairments need to be considered carefully in planning lessons, as
often the child may be having unnecessary additional difficulty in accessing
subject materials or teacher instructions. This is often mistaken as being solely
due to their learning disability.
Levels of learning disability

Learning difficulties can vary from mild to severe but can also be profound if
other disabling conditions are present. Most children fall into the moderate-
to-severe range. Reaching even early academic milestones often proves to be
an uphill task and many children reach adulthood without developing the
basic literacy and numeracy skills taken for granted in much younger children;
a minority, however, do make significant academic progress. IQ scores in child
and adult samples can range over 50–60 IQ points (Carr 1995), a similar spread
to that found in the general population, albeit displaced to the lower end of
the normal distribution. Given its genetic basis, this wide variation is surpris-
ing and is as yet unexplained. It is clear that Down’s syndrome in itself does
not necessarily put a very low ceiling on what can be learned, although
adverse learning styles may impede developmental progress (see below).
Language development
Children with Down’s syndrome are typically very slow to develop language
and in the early years many parents encourage the use of a sign language such
as Makaton to help to bridge the gap between comprehension and production
that is characteristic of the condition (Miller 1999; Chapman and Hesketh
2001). Low muscle tone in the tongue and lips often makes even simple speech
difficult for others to understand. An American survey indicated that as many
as 95 per cent of children have difficulty in being understood (Kumin 1994)
and even family members often depend heavily on contextual clues to

decipher speech intent.
Language is often more delayed than would be predicted from other areas of
cognitive functioning. Recent work suggests that language profiles are similar
to those seen in non-disabled children who have a specific language impair-
ment: both groups have more severe deficits in phonological development and
in grammar acquisition than in vocabulary acquisition (Laws and Bishop
2003). Continuing growth in vocabulary often disguises how poor syntax is, as
does a tendency to speak very little spontaneously or in only short sentences.
Fowler (1990) found few children and young adults with grammatical abilities
beyond the three-year-old level in her studies, although once again the picture
was of considerable individual variation.
Some children have much better language than others but we do not yet
know why this is so. Variation is not accounted for by differences in cognitive
ability, early intervention, hearing status, mothers’ education or socio-
economic status, parental language input, general health status or structural
differences in the speech production mechanism (see Laws and Bishop 2003 for
an overview). Variation may be related to auditory short term memory (the
store used to hold and process spoken language) or to phonological memory
deficits (Laws & Gunn, 2004). Genetic allelic variation may also play a role but
whatever its basis, the wide variation in language outcomes once again
demonstrates that Down’s syndrome in itself does not inevitably constrain
language development to very low levels. With increasing understanding of
factors influencing outcomes, greater progress may be possible for more
children.
The DownsEd team in the UK have long advocated the use of reading as an
effective way of developing speech and language skills on the grounds that
vision is an easier route into language for children with Down’s syndrome
than auditory processing. Some remarkable successes with individual children
have been reported and many schools follow this team’s recommendations,
using the comprehensive set of resources they have recently made available
(Buckley 1985; Buckley and Bird 2001). More research studies are needed,
however, to establish exactly which approaches provide maximum benefits
and whether these are Down’s syndrome-specific or could be equally beneficial
to children with similar levels of learning difficulties.
Memory
As we have seen, working memory is not a strength in children with Down’s
syndrome (Jarrold & Baddeley, 1997). Working memory problems lead to
difficulties in processing and retaining new words, understanding and
responding to spoken language, following verbal instructions, learning rules
and routines, developing organizational skills and remembering sequences
and lists (DSA 2003).
Children can quickly switch out of teaching that places too many demands
on auditory memory. Teachers who work regularly with children with Down’s
syndrome have all sorts of strategies to try to circumvent these inherent
difficulties, such as supporting verbal input in visual forms (using symbols or

drawings), simplifying and shortening instructions, checking that the child
has understood instructions by asking them to repeat them back and so forth.
Many of these techniques are also recommended for children with non-
specific learning difficulties of similar severity, however, so their pedagogical
utility is unlikely to be restricted to children with Down’s syndrome. This
notwithstanding, the memory limitations inherent to Down’s syndrome do
make the teaching of basic academic skills such as literacy and numeracy chal-
lenging, especially when taken in combination with the children’s associated
language difficulties.
Learning
There are many misconceptions about the nature and extent of the difficulties
associated with Down’s syndrome but the one thing that all children with
Down’s syndrome do have in common is a significant degree of learning dis-
ability. A number of excellent books have reviewed the research literature on
this and readers are encouraged to consult these for more in-depth informa-
tion (e.g. Cicchetti and Beeghly 1990; Carr 1995; Stratford and Gunn 1996;
Lewis 2003).
Early developmental progress is often highly encouraging but all too often
this promise fails to be realized in later years. Generalization and consolidation
of new skills seem to pose particular problems (Morss 1985; Duffy and Wishart
1994; Wishart 1996) and it is essential to find out why this is the case in order
to identify ways of helping the children to maintain early rates of progress.
To date, little has been possible to prevent the gap between the children
and their peers widening with increasing age. This poses social and academic
challenges for educational inclusion, particularly at secondary levels.
As we have seen, the stereotype of children with Down’s syndrome often
translates into very low expectations of academic potential. Low expectations
in learning partners may be compounded by the emergence of an adverse
learning style in the children themselves. Even as infants, they can show an
unwillingness to take the initiative in their learning and, as personal learning
histories lengthen, they sometimes develop highly successful strategies, often
socially based, for avoiding new learning (Wishart 1991, 1993). At times, social
skills are used to divert learning partners into doing the work for them – a
short-term ‘fix’ that is unlikely to be helpful in the longer term (Pitcairn and
Wishart 1994; Wishart 1996). Responses to successes and failures also seem to
differ qualitatively (Wishart and Duffy 1990; Pitcairn and Wishart 1994) with
self-regulation and mastery motivation behaviours showing subtle differences
in comparison to similarly disabled or typically developing peers (Cuskelly
et al. 1998; Dayus 1999; Niccols et al. 2003).
A number of studies have recently examined the assumption that social
understanding is somehow protected in Down’s syndrome in comparison to
more general learning ability. Findings suggest that this assumption may
be wrong. In comparison to both ordinary children matched on mental age
and other learning disabled groups, children with Down’s syndrome show
difficulties from a very early age with some very specific aspects of social inter-
action, including theory of mind, empathizing, requesting behaviours and
social referencing (Franco and Wishart 1995; Wishart and Pitcairn 2000; Kasari
et al. 2001; Binnie and Williams 2002; Williams et al. 2004). There is also
evidence that imitation, often thought to be the foundation stone of social
learning, is not used to support learning in the same way as in typical devel-
opment (Wright 1997). As we have seen, social behaviours produced in a
variety of learning contexts indicate that the children may intentionally mis-
use their social skills to avoid engaging in difficult tasks. These behaviours
often prove not to be truly ‘social’ in that the children show little accommo-
dation to their partner and indeed often break some of the most basic
ground rules of interpersonal interaction. This may explain why the children
show few benefits from collaborative learning opportunities unless skilfully
scaffolded by an adult partner (Goodall 2002; Willis et al. 2003).
Different or similar pedagogical needs?
This chapter has so far sidestepped the focus of this book: whether differing
teaching approaches are necessary when working with children who have
Down’s syndrome. There are two reasons for this. The most obvious – and
disappointing – is the paucity of relevant research findings from which to draw
robust conclusions. In the case of psychological research, developmental
researchers largely ignore Down’s syndrome in favour of more recently identi-
fied and ‘interesting’ conditions such as autism and Williams syndrome; there
is currently very little research being conducted with the children beyond pre-
school years. Despite learning and teaching being inextricably intertwined,
the educational literature on children with Down’s syndrome is even thinner.
Educational research seldom focuses specifically on children with Down’s
syndrome and, where it does, comparison of outcomes to other groups of
children, either typically developing or with similar levels of learning difficul-
ties, is rarely included in the design. This leaves interpretation of findings
hugely problematic, especially when ability at entry to the study is poorly
defined, details of pedagogical approaches are slight and progress is rather
loosely measured. Recent advances in neuropsychology and the completion of
the Human Genome Project may have brought us much closer to understand-
ing at the biological and physical level exactly how Down’s syndrome affects
learning and development, but in terms of identifying effective educational
interventions we are very much still struggling in the dark. We have very little
knowledge of how the children learn – or fail to learn – in formal classroom
contexts.
Psychological and educational research has tended to focus on identifying
relative strengths and weaknesses in cognitive profiles (for overviews see
Cicchetti and Beeghly 1990; Carr 1995; Stratford and Gunn 1996; Lewis 2003).
The following are usually said to be characteristic of Down’s syndrome learn-
ers: strong visual learning skills, poor auditory learning skills, delayed speech
and language development, good ability to learn from peers (particularly
through imitation and cue-taking), immature social skills, delayed fine and
gross motor skills (leading to clumsiness and manipulation difficulties) and a
short concentration span. While this general profile is supported by a range of
studies in the research literature, cited studies have not always included com-
parison with other groups of learners. Recommendations made in relation to
specific areas of the curriculum, such as literacy and maths, are likewise seldom
grounded in findings from controlled comparative studies, drawing instead on
what is currently judged as best practice. In the UK, the USA and other coun-
tries, a number of resource packs and texts specifically for teachers who
work with children with Down’s syndrome are now widely available (see e.g.
Oelwein 1995; Lorenz 1998; Buckley and Bird 2001). However, authors are
generally careful to point out that the advice given is often based on hands-on
experience of what ‘works’ with children with Down’s syndrome rather than
on findings from educational research. Although there is frequent reference to
the specific learning profiles of children with Down’s syndrome, the number
of studies that can legitimately claim to have produced evidence to back up
this claim is very small indeed.
Many experienced teachers of pupils with special educational needs often
find much commonality in the kinds of learning ‘styles’ described as Down’s
syndrome-specific and those seen in other children with learning disabilities
of a similar degree of severity. Recommended pedagogies show much overlap
with more general MLD/SLD pedagogic strategies, but with a particular
emphasis on trying to circumvent the language and auditory memory prob-
lems associated with Down’s syndrome by capitalizing on relative strengths in
visual processing ability. Readers are therefore advised to cross-refer Down’s
syndrome texts with the broader PMLD, MLD, SLD and special needs litera-
ture. Ware (2003), Lewis (1995), Carpenter, Ashdown and Bovair (1996),
Watson (1996), Farrell (1997) and Dyson and Millward (2000), for example, all
offer insightful analyses and balanced evaluations of educational theory and
current practice, often placing these usefully in the wider context of recent and
far-reaching changes in educational provision for children with learning
difficulties.
This brings us to the second reason for this chapter sidestepping the central
question of this book. Children with Down’s syndrome have traditionally
been educated in special schools and consequently what little research there
has been of direct relevance to pedagogy has mostly been carried out in these
settings. Most research has been carried out in small classrooms, with staff
with extensive experience of working with children having special educational
needs but over a fairly restricted curriculum. This makes it almost impossible
to generalize findings to mainstream classrooms and the wider curriculum. We
have to recognize that meeting the additional needs of a child with Down’s
syndrome in a large mainstream classroom while continuing to meet the
diverse needs of all of the other children is a challenge that many teachers may
not relish. A recent Scottish report (Audit Scotland 2003) was highly critical of
the ‘patchy preparation’, ‘minimal planning’ and ‘inadequate resourcing’ of
this major educational shift and in the case of children with Down’s syndrome
it is already apparent that additional adult classroom support is often being
used inappropriately and ineffectively (Lorenz 1999). Many teachers, while

publicly endorsing the principles of inclusion and the values that drive it,
may not be sufficiently convinced of its educational value to be willing to carry
it forward into their own professional practice. In the absence of any solid
evidence base from which to endorse the efficacy of either innovative or
traditional pedagogical methods, this is understandable.
For real inroads to be made into helping children with Down’s syndrome to
achieve to their full potential, a more focused and unified research effort will
be needed. Mainstreaming now makes research into Down’s syndrome far less
attractive to many researchers. Achieving large samples is much more time
consuming and access has to be negotiated through many more channels, not
all of them welcoming of researchers. We are, however, at a very exciting time
in research into learning difficulties, a time when educationalists, psycholo-
gists, sociologists, biomedical scientists and geneticists can pool their respect-
ive expertises to reach a much fuller understanding of the nature and impact
of genetically based syndromes such as Down’s syndrome on development
and learning – respecting individual differences while also explaining them.
There will, though, need to be a greater willingness for psychological and
educational researchers to cross the interdisciplinary divide and dig deeper
into what can at first seem like a totally alien literature, based on very different
methodologies and in very different value systems.
Many educationalists reject any focus specifically on children with Down’s
syndrome as it smacks of a return to labelling and a ‘within-child’ blame cul-
ture. For many psychologists, this is the only way forward, seen as neither
disrespectful to the individual child, denying of commonalities across special
needs groups nor reflecting a belief that environmental factors are unimport-
ant in determining outcomes. Special educators, surprisingly perhaps, are
sometimes the most resistant to any aetiology-specific approach to teaching,
fearing a return to the discredited ‘medical model’ of learning disabilities
(Hodapp and Dykens 1994). Medical and genetic research can tell us a great
deal about conditions like Down’s syndrome. Neither has yet identified any
way of alleviating the associated learning difficulties, however, and it is here
that psychological and educational research can contribute most. The current
disciplinary stand-off means that very little research is being carried out on
children with Down’s syndrome by either psychologists or educationalists,
however. There are a few studies that have directly investigated classroom
learning in children with Down’s syndrome but few report on large numbers
of children (essential given the wide range in developmental outcomes seen in
this group) and many are single case studies. Some have been designed specif-
ically to identify differences in development in children with Down’s syn-
drome, but most have not. Very few have compared the outcomes of specific
pedagogic strategies for children with Down’s syndrome to outcomes either
for typically developing children of the same chronological or developmental
age or for children with learning difficulties of the same severity but differing
(or unknown) aetiology and even these few studies are often misreported in
the practitioner literature (e.g. Duffy and Wishart 1994).
Conclusion
This chapter has tried to establish whether meeting the educational needs of
pupils with Down’s syndrome requires a different set of pedagogical skills and
a new knowledge base or whether the portfolio of skills normally held by any
good teacher, appropriately differentiated, can be equally effective. It
unfortunately has to be concluded that there is as yet no substantive evidence
base from which to answer this question at this time. What is clear is that
children with Down’s syndrome face very significant obstacles to their learn-
ing and experience difficulties at the most fundamental of levels. A large
number of studies have compared basic psychological functioning in Down’s
syndrome to developmental pathways shown by children who are either typ-
ically developing, have some other form of genetic learning disability (such as
Fragile X, autism or Williams syndrome) or have learning difficulties of a simi-
lar severity but unknown aetiology (see Chapman and Hesketh 2001;
Chertkoff Walz and Benson 2002). Although many of the impairments evident
in the areas of language, memory and the like are shared with other MLD and
SLD children, profiles of strengths and weaknesses do show qualitative and
quantitative differences, although these are sometimes very subtle. Given the
effects that Down’s syndrome has on brain development and functioning –
from conception onwards – such differences are hardly surprising (Karrer et al.
1998). It is also important to remember that Down’s syndrome is one of the
few learning disabilities that can be diagnosed at birth and can be easily iden-
tified by others. At an experiential level, the learning environments of children
with Down’s syndrome, both in and out of school, are also therefore likely to
differ from those experienced by children with later emerging and less readily
identifiable learning disabilities.
So far little has been said in relation to the unique versus general differences
framework introduced in Chapter 1 and interwoven into other chapters in this
book. Again, one of the difficulties in writing from a psychology viewpoint is
that these conceptualizations – and the terminology in which they are
expressed – are difficult to reconcile with the treatment of similar issues in
child psychology and in the wider learning disability field. Research on chil-
dren with Down’s syndrome has had a particularly chequered past few dec-
ades. Difficulties in communicating across disciplinary divides have been
exacerbated by the ‘two cultures’ that until recently have divided research
on learning disabilities (Hodapp and Dykens 1994): research based on aetio-
logically distinct groups (usually in the ‘harder’ empirical sciences) and
research focusing on level of impairment (special education research and edu-
cational psychology). Child development straddles these two cultures, at
times uncomfortably. However, increasing realization that syndrome-specific
research can advance knowledge of both typical and atypical development has
led to a recent upsurge in aetiology-led research and increased interdisciplin-
ary collaboration among geneticists, psychologists and educators (see Hodapp
et al. 2003). One of the longest-standing debates in psychological research –
now thankfully put to one side – has been between supporters of difference
versus delay theories of learning disability, with further debate centring on
whether differences, if they exist, lie in the structure of cognition across

domains and/or the sequence in which development unfolds (see Hodapp
1998 for an overview). In terms of the commonality/differentiation model laid
out in Chapter 1, the ‘difference’ theory equates at some level more to the
‘general differences’ position (where commonality within group needs are
acknowledged, but the pedagogical relevance of current groupings queried)
than to the ‘unique differences’ model (where approaches to pedagogy are
informed only by common and individual needs). For some commentators,
however, the case will always depend on the level of analysis: the more
detailed the analysis, the more likely fine grained differences are to show up, at
both group and individual levels. The same seems true for pedagogies: when
does a continuum become a series of related but distinctive pedagogic strat-
egies and when do these individually become so differentiated as to become
specific to the group of learners with whom they are used? The current absence
of evidence of the need for separate pedagogical strategies for children with
Down’s syndrome should be taken as just that. We are still a long way away
from being able to conclude that such strategies do not exist in current practice
or are not needed.
Summary
Nature of the group

• Down’s syndrome arises from a genetic ‘random accident’ associated with a
range of learning difficulties from mild to severe and (if occurring with other
disabling conditions) profound.
• There are overlaps with other groups experiencing learning difficulties.
• There is a wide range in IQ (over 50–60 IQ points) across children with Down’s
syndrome.
• Down’s syndrome is associated with sensory impairments for the majority of
children.
• There is an association with heart disease for a large minority of children with
Down’s syndrome.
• There have been shifts in the developed world towards more rights, longer life
expectancy and more independent living for people with Down’s syndrome.
• Generalization and consolidation of new skills are particular problems.
• Often children have an adverse learning style (avoiding new learning, unwilling
to take initiative).
• The assumption that social understanding is protected is not supported by the
research evidence.
• Early diagnosis means that early environments may be atypical compared with
the experiences of children without Down’s syndrome.
Pedagogy
• There is a paucity of robust research evidence.
• There is a dearth of systematic studies involving children with Down’s syndrome

after pre-school.
• Claims have been made (in the literature) for the specificity of approaches but
the research base required to support such claims is weak.
Curriculum
• There is some evidence that vision is an easier route into language and learning
than is auditory processing (reflected in some approaches to the teaching of
literacy with this group).
Knowledge
• See above regarding the nature of children with Down’s syndrome.
• Children often have an adverse learning style (avoiding new learning, unwilling
to take initiative).
• Generalization and consolidation of new skills are a particular problem.

• Recommended (in literature) pedagogic strategies have much in common with
those recommended for other groups of learners with similar levels of difficulties.
• It is not possible to take a clear cut position as research designs have lacked
external and internal validity, thus failing to provide answers to question posed
here about individual versus general differences as the pedagogic base.

• Given the genetic distinctiveness of this group, the absence of research-based
evidence about pedagogy is disappointing.
• Mainstreaming is an obstacle to unambiguous (quasi-experimental) research
designs required to address causal outcome questions.
• There are potential strengths in synthesizing psychological, educational and
medical perspectives and research evidence on learning in children with Down’s
syndrome, but potential conflicts in relation to acceptable research paradigms
and methodologies.
Note
1 The term ‘learning disability’ is used here in its UK sense and interchangeably with
‘learning difficulties’, the preferred term among educationalists. Internationally,
‘intellectual disability’ is increasingly used to describe those with significantly
impaired cognitive and adaptive abilities. In the USA, the term ‘mental retardation’ is
still favoured, with ‘learning disability’ used to describe children who have normal
intelligence but show a significant discrepancy between this intellectual potential and
their academic achievement. Great care is therefore necessary when accessing the
international literature on children with a ‘learning disability’ or with ‘learning
difficulties’. US studies reporting on the effective application of specific pedagogies

with children with ‘learning disabilities’ are often cited inappropriately in the special
needs literature. This is not only misleading but also makes it less likely that the
necessary studies relating specifically to special educational needs will be carried out.
References
Audit Scotland/Her Majesty’s Inspectorate (2003) Moving to Mainstream: The Inclusion of

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Down Syndrome Research Foundation (Canada): http://www.dsrf.org
English as an additional
language and children with
speech, language and
communication needs
Deirdre Martin
Introduction
The imperative driving an examination of specialist teaching approaches is

the inclusion agenda. For learners with educational language needs this
means developing language within the context of academic learning, and for
teachers and speech and language therapists it entails collaborative work to
integrate language and academic learning. This chapter examines teaching
approaches and strategies for language learning needs of two groups of
learners who, traditionally, have been carefully distinguished: bilingual
learners of English as an additional language (EAL) and learners with speech,
language and communication needs (SLCN). I argue that although the under-
lying causes are different for their educational language learning needs, these
learners share educational needs for a pedagogic approach to academic
learning that integrates language learning with academic (subject domain)
learning. A theoretical framework is presented that supports the integration of
language knowledge and academic knowledge in teaching and learning in a
mainstream inclusive curriculum.
The premise for a ‘common’ pedagogic approach in inclusive education is
that one teaching approach will enable all learners with diverse educational
needs to access the curriculum and subject knowledge, and afford opportuni-
ties and possibilities for teachers to differentiate this access through strategies
and techniques sensitive to individual learners’ needs. I argue for a common
EAL and children with SLCN 97
pedagogic approach through integrating language and subject knowledge,

focusing on an inclusive pedagogic approach developed for EAL learners and
applied to learners with SLCN in the mainstream. This common pedagogic
approach could be applicable to all learners, since it challenges the assumption
that all ‘typical’ children enter the education system with language abilities
capable of academic learning.
There are learners who challenge the assumption often made about
‘typical’ language ability: children of poverty. Research has shown (e.g. Locke
et al. 2002) that children of poverty have significantly less vocabulary and
other language resources than children from more socio-economic advan-
taged groups. Other research (e.g. Heath 1983) indicates that some social
groups may not use language as a tool for learning in the same way as
school does. The ‘mismatch’ between school expectations and children’s
communicative practices and resources has implications for academic and
curriculum learning, and teaching approaches that integrate language and
learning.
The first part of the chapter describes the language needs of EAL learners
and learners with SLCN. The second part critically examines selected studies
of pedagogic strategies for the two groups of learners and evaluates the evi-
dence for claims about specialist knowledge informing teaching for language
learning and academic learning. The chapter concludes that pedagogic strat-
egies integrating language development and domain knowledge offer a
common approach for diverse learners with or without educational language
needs. Moreover, they allow for differentiation so that individual learners’
needs can be met, including those with more complex language needs. How-
ever, an integrated approach to language and learning is not typical of main-
stream pedagogic strategies, and consequently could be regarded as ‘special’.
Nevertheless, there is evidence that policy-driven collaborative work prac-
tices across professional groups are bringing about shared pedagogic strat-
egies and consequently a ‘common’ approach for integrating language and
learning.
Definition and description of focal pupil groups: EAL

and SLCN
A critical comment: it is easy to slip into descriptions of groups of learners that

assume homogeneity across individual members and make generalizations
about normative language and learning development that are contra-
indicated by studies of communicative practices, which reveal the importance
of interaction and context. The aim of this section is to explore, in the context
of school learning, the language learning needs of the two focal groups, EAL
learners and pupils with SLCN. The areas of language learning need shared by
the two groups are discussed and differences that might affect teaching and
learning strategies are considered. The extent to which their individual differ-
ences and language learning needs do not have the same causes means that
there might be reasons to require different, or ‘special’, pedagogic approaches

is considered.
Theoretical background
It is generally accepted that we have a biological and cultural predisposition to
learn language. Our brains are predisposed to recognize and process linguistic
information, whether this is for one or several languages. It is also widely
accepted that language develops through interaction with the social world, so
that children build a communication system that relates the content and
structure of language to its social meanings.
Current psychological theories about language development propose
that children apply powerful cognitive strategies to make sense of their com-
plex language environments (Bates and McWhinney 1987; Tomasello and
Brookes 1999). The relationship between cognitive strategies and language
development is currently regarded as central to understanding children’s
difficulties developing language as a first or additional language (Dockrell
and McShane 1993). Cognitive strategies and children’s implicit and explicit
awareness of them are currently understood to be important in formal lan-
guage teaching, literacy teaching and intervention. Other learning theories,
such as Skinner’s behaviourist approach, that emphasize the roles of imitation,
repetition, reward and reinforcement are less favoured now, although still
drawn on in formal language teaching situations.
Within the psycholinguistic theoretical approach, the aetiology of delay
experienced by some children developing their first language is attributed to
intrinsic difficulties in applying cognitive strategies to process and interpret
their complex linguistic environment. The framework developed by Stack-
house and Wells (1997, 2001) draws on this approach to interpret speech and
language difficulties. Difficulties may be with short- or long-term memory
abilities, perceptual and discrimination segmentation abilities or program-
ming and coordinating motor sequences. Substantial social trauma and
deprivation can inhibit the development of these abilities in children (Bishop
and Mogford 1993).
Learners with SLCN (also known as speech and language impairment, SLI, or
specific speech and language difficulties, SSLD; Dockrell and Lindsay 1998)
have a specific difficulty in developing language as their primary educational
need when ‘language acquisition is abnormal or delayed [despite] sufficient
exposure to language input, normal capacity to perceive language, a brain
which is adequate for learning in the non-verbal domain and intact articula-
tory structures’ (Bishop 1992: 2). The specific difficulty is not due to hearing
difficulties or loss, general learning difficulties, emotional problems and
environmental factors (Adams et al. 1997). Surface behaviours and test scores
may appear to be similar but underlying processing difficulties and compensa-
tory behaviours can be different (Constable 1993).
Learners who have SLCN have their difficulties described in cognitive
(psychological) terms as difficulties in processing, storing, retrieving and
manipulating language, and linguistically when difficulties affect different
aspects of language. Difficulties in phonological development (speech sounds)

may involve difficulties in perceiving and discriminating between speech
sounds, and between real and nonsense words, as well as motor difficulties in
learning speech sound sequences in new words.
Some children have difficulties in making sense of patterns of word
sequences (sentence grammar) or learning word endings. One interpretation is
that children with this difficulty cannot recognize the grammatical role that
words play in utterances, an ability known as ‘syntactic bootstrapping’.
Another interpretation is that grammatical difficulties are due to short-term
memory and organizational problems.
Many children with speech and language needs have difficulties developing
vocabulary and relating it to underlying concepts (semantic difficulties).
Common difficulties are learning new words, ‘word-finding’, using words
appropriately and learning multiple meanings of words. There may be several
reasons for these difficulties. Phonological difficulties may impede the learn-
ing of new words. Processing difficulties in accessing and retrieving words may
result in word-finding difficulties. Conceptual inflexibility may inhibit attrib-
uting several meanings to one word form (e.g. dog is an animal and a pet; table
meaning ‘furniture’ and ‘grid’). There are implications of vocabulary difficul-
ties for conceptual development and academic learning.
Children who have difficulties in the appropriate use of language in social
situations (pragmatic difficulties) usually have the correct forms of language
but what they say may not match the meaning expected for the situation. The
social context in which speaking occurs allows speakers and listeners to con-
struct inferences and implications that are drawn from knowledge of social
interactions and knowledge of the world. Consequently, difficulties in using
language appropriately are due as much to children’s difficulties in under-
standing language meaning as to cognitive and emotional understanding of
social contexts.
Almost all children with expressive language difficulties have varying dif-
ficulties in understanding language. Furthermore, they usually have difficul-
ties in developing literacy skills and practices, which has implications for
teaching and learning. Children with language difficulties related to conceptual
and cognitive development, such as difficulties with meaning, appropriateness
and understanding, are likely to need assistance with academic learning, with
implications for pedagogic strategies.
Bilingual learners are a heterogeneous group, differing across first languages,
ethnicities, cultural heritages and beliefs, as well as having individual differ-
ences; for example, in their learning potential, proficiency in their first
language, ability to learn additional languages, educational history and
gender. Bilingual learners who are developing EAL have usually developed one
language successfully, their home language, in which they may have extensive
communicative, social and literacy practices. They need to develop English in
order to function successfully in school, and later to get employment and to
participate in wider society.
Bilingualism is not a cause of educational difficulties and most EAL learners
do not have intrinsic learning difficulties in the way described for SLCN.
However, statistics show that in many countries, including England, the USA
and Australia, bilingual pupils constitute the lowest bands of educational
achievement and continue to be over-represented in special educational
needs provision (Gillborn and Youdell 2000). This may be attributable to sev-
eral factors: such as poverty of many linguistic minority pupil populations,
pupils’ constructs of their academic identity and teachers’ perceptions of
difference and disability. It is likely that teaching practices for academic
curriculum learning through learners’ additional language also contribute to
low achievement.
The distinction between pupils with EAL needs and those with educational
needs is summed up by Mattes and Omark (1984):
Second language learners who perform poorly in the school setting because
of limited familiarity with English and/or cultural differences need to be
distinguished from children who demonstrate communicative disorders
and/or abnormalities that require special education intervention.
This distinction is recognized in education legislation in many countries but
not all. The UK 1981 Education Act distinguished between the educational
needs and subsequent provision for EAL learners and learners with SLCN. EAL
learners were offered increasingly inclusive provision with additional special-
ist teacher support, while specialist support for learners with SLCN has mainly
been offered outside the education system, by health services, and until
recently had limited inclusion in mainstream.
The brief summary of characteristics of EAL learners and learners with SLCN
suggests that their learning needs through language have similarities that
teaching approaches could make the most of. Many learners in both groups
potentially have cognitive capabilities to achieve similarly to their peers. Low
academic achievement must pose questions about the role and effect of teach-
ing approaches and strategies on learning for these pupils.
Cummins (1984) offers a theoretical framework that explores the interface
between conceptual, academic learning and learning through language.
Cummins distinguishes between language learning for social and conver-
sational purposes (basic interpersonal communication skills, BICS) and lan-
guage for academic learning (cognitive academic language proficiency, CALP).
Research shows that most bilingual children develop BICS within two years of
being immersed in the additional language. Studies also show that bilingual
learners can take between five and seven years to be able to use language for
academic curriculum learning as their monolingual peers do (Collier 1989).
Cummins argues that underpinning CALP is the relationship between
language and higher order thinking skills, such as analysing, synthesizing and
evaluating information, as well as inferring, predicting and understanding
implications. The crucial aspect of language development for CALP is the
development of vocabulary because of the connection between words and
underlying concepts. Cummins, along with others, attributes language and
learning difficulties and low achievement to pedagogic strategies rather than
to aetiology factors within the EAL learner.
To summarize, I have shown that the aetiologies of language learning needs
between EAL learners and learners with SLCN are very different. However, I
argue that the aetiology of difficulty is less important for educational progress
than learning needs. The learning needs of both groups require a teaching
approach and strategies that focus on the relationship between language and
learning, and language for academic learning. In the next section, I select
studies to illustrate a continuum of pedagogic strategies that foreground
language as a means of supporting language development as well as supporting
academic learning. The continuum of pedagogic strategies allows for further
differentiation for individual learners’ needs.
Integrating language and learning
The challenge is to inform pedagogic practice with a theoretical base that

affords curriculum learning for learners with SLCN while at the same time
supporting their individual needs in language development and skills. We turn
to an approach that informs pedagogic strategies with EAL learners. Drawing
on Cummins’s notion of embedding language development in curriculum
learning, pedagogic strategies need to integrate subject knowledge of content
and processes with language domain knowledge. This approach has immense
implications for professionals involved in teaching learners with SLCN, which
include issues of professional identity as well as professional development.
Continuum of integrating language and learning
A study by Stoddart et al. (2002) has looked at the challenge of developing

subject domain teachers to be able to develop a pedagogic approach and
pedagogic strategies that integrate language learning and subject content.
They propose three approaches to integration of subject matter domains:
thematic, interdisciplinary and integrated. Their framework, based on Dreyfus
and Dreyfus (1986), proposes that these approaches form a continuum for
integrating content and process across subject and language knowledge
domains.
• Thematic: an overarching theme or topic creates the relationship across
subject and language. For example, relating science and language may be
developed around a topic, e.g. the sea.
• Interdisciplinary: the knowledge and processes of the secondary domain are
used to support learning in the primary domain, e.g. language is used to
help science learning, such as learning new scientific vocabulary.
• Integrated: both domains of knowledge (language and science) are equally
balanced, learning in one domain complements and reinforces the other,
learning is ‘synergistic’ and enhances learning in both areas.
Stoddart and colleagues, from evidence collected from teachers through
observations of practice and interviews about their reflections of learning,
develop concepts of practice about integrated pedagogic strategies. They
propose five levels that identify teachers’ conceptual pedagogic progression

and indicators in teaching practices:
• Level 1: show no integration and conceptually consider language and sub-
ject learning as discrete and isolated domains; cannot be taught in the same
lesson; knowledge is understood as rule-governed, with no consideration of
context. There is little student input or initiation of inquiry.
• Level 2: understand that integration between language and subject areas is
possible theoretically but have no understanding of relating theory to prac-
tice and no knowledge of appropriate pedagogic strategies. Thematic
instruction, e.g. ocean, is used as an organizing topic. Integration of lan-
guage and learning is described sequentially, e.g. talk about the topic then
write about it.
• Level 3: emerging understanding of integration, and can clearly differentiate
between domain knowledges, but with a limited understanding of common
processes. For example, one domain is used to support the other – using
skills, such as vocabulary building and writing tasks, to connect domains.
• Level 4: implicitly understand integration as a reciprocal relation between
language and subject domain but the content in either domain may not be
covered in depth. They can describe a plan for curriculum integration based
on common processes between domains, while recognizing the challenges
involved in integrated curriculum.
• Level 5: thorough explicit understanding of integration. They describe inte-
gration, and give examples of analysis and contextual considerations, and
examples of transfer and application of understanding of integration to
novel situations. They draw on a conceptual framework (e.g. inquiry) to
implement an integrated curriculum across domains of knowledge, which
emphasizes higher-order thinking skills that enhance learning; and talking
and writing are to communicate ideas.
This continuum is a valuable metaphor to illustrate conceptual progression in
teachers from understanding language proficiency as a set of skills in a discrete
knowledge domain, towards integrating discursive practices with learning.
Pedagogic strategies include language skills (such as knowledge of grammatical
structures, vocabulary and meaning relations) but there is more emphasis on
communicative and discursive practices for meaning-making in classroom
interaction. Teachers draw on Palinscar’s (1986) comprehension strategies, by
discussing meanings of subject texts: identifying the main idea, guessing the
teacher’s questions, clarifying and repairing meaning, predicting and finding
proof. Teaching and learning is embedded in hands-on, contextualized, col-
laborative work that affords cohesive learning between domains of language
and subject knowledge.
Evaluating claims for special teaching and intervention
In this section I draw on Stoddart et al.’s model of conceptual progression

by practitioners in understanding and implementing integrated pedagogic
strategies to evaluate some of the models of pedagogic strategies for language

and learning in clinical and educational settings. Two main aspects are
considered in evaluating the evidence from studies that present the case for
‘special’ teaching and intervention for learners with SLCN. First, evaluating
efficacy of an integrated approach is limited by few studies in this area and
methodological difficulties. Second, there is evidence that strategies integrating
language and learning are used successfully in pedagogic contexts with learners
with SLCN, as they are with other language learners, such as EAL pupils.
Efficacy
Many research studies with learners with SLCN adopt a non-integrated
approach, even though learners may be in educational settings. Intervention
focuses on language proficiency being developed apart from curriculum learn-
ing. Tallal (2000) reviews studies on the impact of language training pro-
grammes with ‘academically at risk’ school-aged children with language
difficulties. She concludes that, even though techniques and strategies for
intensive practice done through withdrawal from class appear effective for
language development, questions remain about how effectively pupils who
have learnt comprehension strategies in isolation can ‘transfer’ and ‘general-
ize’ their new language skills to contexts of discussion about academic con-
cepts. It remains to be seen in longitudinal study if the techniques can be
applied to, or integrated into, curriculum learning. Moreover, Tallal (2000:
150) considers that future research should refocus ‘away from their previous
focus on aetiology [of SLCN], to a new focus on the development of practical
and efficacious remediation techniques’.
Other reviews of the literature indicate that there are methodological dif-
ficulties in research evaluation of efficacy of intervention and teaching
programmes (Conti-Ramsden and Botting 2000; Constable 2001; Popple and
Wellington 2001). Criticisms focus on controlling the diversity of aetiology,
shortcomings of the experimental paradigm and non-standard interventions.
Where language skills are managed separately from learning skills studies look
mainly at withdrawal interventions, where aims concern ‘catching up’.
Learners with SLCN may fall behind in their educational progress because of
being excluded from learning in the mainstream class, and Conti-Ramsden
and Botting’s (2000: 221) non-integrated position is clear when they claim
that ‘If this is the case, it is even more imperative that the language skills of
children with SLI are brought up to sufficient levels as efficiently as possible’.
Many language learning programmes that are used in schools and class-
rooms with children with SLCN (Rees 2002) (e.g. Social Use of Language Pro-
gramme, Rinaldi 1995; Teaching Talking, Locke and Beech 1991) have not been
researched for evaluation purposes. Although not evaluated, studies of meta-
linguistic pedagogic strategies integrating language and academic learning
have demonstrated efficacy for learning academic language practices indi-
vidually, in groups and whole classes, for both EAL learners (McWilliam 1998)
and learners with SLCN (e.g. Hesketh et al. 2000; Goldfus 2001). Case studies of
individual children with SLCN have shown that intervention is successful
when some of the language demands of the curriculum are integrated into
therapy plans.
Integrating language and learning for SLCN

Evidence for claims about pedagogic strategies based on developing explicit
teaching of language and learning with learners with SLCN is, currently, very
tentative. With reference to Stoddart et al.’s continuum, studies mainly reflect
practice where teaching approaches are thematic with an emerging under-
standing of integration (Level 3).
Evidence is found in studies of metalinguistic and metacognitive learning
strategies, approaches used by EAL and SLCN, for monitoring language com-
prehension and learning, and helping pupils to become independent learners.
Metalinguistic awareness is used by learners when they are able to suspend
their spontaneous use of language, which is concerned with communicating
meaning, in order to reflect on some aspect of the language itself. A good
example is the inclusion of metalinguistic strategies in developing phono-
logical awareness in the literacy curriculum. This strategy was previously
regarded as a ‘special’ pedagogic strategy for learners with speech and literacy
difficulties. Now it is a mainstream literacy pedagogic strategy.
Phonological awareness as a pedagogic strategy affords opportunities for
speech and language therapists to integrate interventionist approaches into
curriculum learning. Studies have shown how it can be utilized by speech
and language therapists and teachers for learners with speech difficulties
(e.g. Hesketh et al. 2000). Case studies show that metalinguistic strategies in
raising phonological awareness can be used beyond literacy learning for
learning new curriculum vocabulary (Popple and Wellington 2001).
Evidence from studies taking a metalinguistic approach to developing phon-
ology (Howell and Dean 1994; Adams et al. 2000) suggests that learners use
the new skills beyond the programme and across other areas of language
learning.
There are many similarities between metalinguistic strategies used for EAL
learners and those used for learners with SLCN. Constable (2001) notes that for
learners with SLCN improving concepts and lexical representations through
the accuracy of stored information relies on both strengthening semantic
knowledge and raising phonological awareness. While methodological differ-
ences in research studies offer conflicting results, certain features emerge as
important:
• vocabulary selection – few, relevant to class learning, conceptually selected;
• plenty of repetitions in different contexts, and if possible with a baseline
number of exposures;
• teaching vocabulary with explicit structured help to organize and store
semantic information;
• memory difficulties mean vocabulary should be taught before, during and
after learning experiences to help to store and integrate the information
efficiently.
Teachers and therapists collaborated and specific technical knowledge was

used about language when teaching vocabulary. Working through a structured
teaching frame the child had a ‘scaffold’ for learning new vocabulary. Meta-
linguistic strategies and communicative strategies are explicitly taught, and
‘the aim is that strategies cease to be needed as a child’s speech and language
processing system becomes more efficient’ (Constable 2001: 361). Similar
constraints are recognized in EAL teaching.
Metalinguistic strategies are also used in ‘rich scripting’ (McWilliam 1998), a
teaching approach for EAL learners to develop curriculum vocabulary. ‘Target
lexical items’ are applied to a lexical framework that goes beyond giving
definitions of words and requires learners to examine the meaning potential
of words. This approach helps learners to plan processes of engagement with
word meaning and to see how words change their meanings depending on
their context and use. McWilliam notes that EAL learners need repetitive
exposure to new words and opportunities to work with them. This pedagogic
strategy would seem to complement the strategy taken by Constable and her
colleagues, yet its application with learners with SLCN, and other mainstream
learners, has not been reported yet.
Metacognition is a similar ability of pupils to suspend their spontaneous
learning behaviour in order to reflect on aspects of their learning (O’Malley and
Chamot 1990). Learners who are developing language in curriculum learning
and through text, including learners with SLCN, bilingual learners of EAL and
learners with dyslexia, have been shown to benefit in a whole-class teaching
programme from being explicitly taught these comprehension strategies with
text, with subsequent raised academic achievement over time (Goldfus 2001).
These studies illustrate some pedagogic strategies that are broadly similar
and used for EAL learners and learners with SLCN. However, the researchers
make no reference to this similarity and it seems unlikely that they are aware
of shared practices because of discipline boundaries. These pedagogic strat-
egies are moving along Stoddart et al.’s continuum towards a more integrated
approach to language development and academic learning.
Further evidence is found in pedagogic strategies that seek to integrate lan-
guage development and learning in early years. ‘Special Times’ is a programme
originally envisaged as a non-directive approach to play that provides children
with an arena for beginning to understand communication (Cockerill n.d.). It
has been adapted, as ‘Special Time’, to support children with severe communi-
cation or social difficulties through routine and structure in reciprocal infor-
mation exchanges. Special Time is examined by Cook (2003: 99–106) to see if
anything was truly ‘special’ or ‘different’ from the everyday work and inter-
action of adults with children.
She concludes that the two important aspects of Special Time that make it
‘special’ relate to adult behaviours: adults’ awareness of knowledge about
language and learning and their application of that knowledge. She concludes
that Special Time is an opportunity for adults to learn how to make
their implicit knowledge of language into explicit knowledge. It affords possi-
bilities for situated learning in the application of language knowledge for
co-constructed communicative exchanges. Referring to Stoddart et al.’s
continuum, Special Time reflects a Level 5 realization of integrating language

and cognitive learning.
Conclusions
I have argued that there is evidence to support the case for a common peda-
gogic approach based on a continuum of integrating language and learning.
The commonality of the approach implies that it is an effective teaching
approach to all learners, not just those with educational difficulties, EAL needs
or SLC needs. It challenges the assumption that most learners’ language abil-
ities can cope with academic curriculum language without an integrated peda-
gogy. In making this argument I have drawn on research from the fields of
teaching in EAL and SLCN, which are traditionally distinct, to demonstrate
that there are similarities in conceptualizing and implementing teaching
language development integrated into subject knowledge, in the classroom.
A body of research and practice holds that particular language difficulties
and needs of learners with SLCN determine the ‘specialness’ or discreteness of
individualized interventionist programmes. This position is identified nearer
one extreme on the language learning continuum where there is no or little
integration of language learning with academic curriculum learning. The con-
tinuum passes through pedagogic strategies invoking metacognitive, meta-
linguistic and comprehension strategies towards conceptualization and
implementation of pedagogic strategies for integration. Within these strategies
there is space to develop differentiated techniques and practices, materials and
outcomes to meet individual children’s needs.
Finally, the ‘specialness’ of pedagogic strategies for language and curriculum
learning lies more with raising teachers’ awareness about their own language
use in co-constructing learning with pupils. To realize these pedagogic strat-
egies, professionals need to develop a language to talk about integrating
language learning and academic learning. Therapists, subject teachers and
specialist teachers need to acquire knowledge of language practices for
academic learning as well as the application of this knowledge in integrating
language and learning. Researching this professional development process is
an important agenda.
Summary
Nature of the group

• This includes EAL and SLCN, but note the heterogeneity within and across these
groups.
• SLCN are manifested by difficulties in cognitive skills such as processing, storing
and retrieving language.
• SLCN encompasses expressive and receptive problems with phonology, syntax,
semantics and/or pragmatics.
• SLCN difficulties are not due to hearing loss, general learning difficulties,
emotional problems or environmental factors.
• Bilingual learners developing EAL have usually developed one language
successfully.
• Both EAL and SLCN groups contain many children with cognitive capability
potentially similar to that of their peers.
Pedagogy
• See below regarding curriculum.
• A range of methodological problems is noted (paralleling those noted in other
chapters), making it difficult to establish clear research-based answers to ques-
tions about specificity of special needs pedagogy.
Curriculum
• There is a need to integrate subject knowledge and language domain knowledge.
• EAL work can be used to inform SLCN. Drawing on Stoddart et al., three
approaches are outlined for such integration: thematic, interdisciplinary and
integrated.
• Following on from this, five levels of ‘conceptual pedagogic progression and
indicators in teaching practice’ are identified.
Knowledge
• Subsumed under curriculum.

• Aetiology is different but the learning needs are similar across the two groups,
e.g. there is a need for repetition across different contexts.
• The relationship of EAL/SLCN and pedagogic practice with other special needs
groups is not explored.
• The approaches outlined are useful for all learners, i.e. a unique differences
(not general/group) differences position.
• In line with this, teachers and other professionals need to develop a language
with which to discuss integrating language learning and subject learning.

• The position is strongly curriculum-based.
• Integration of subject knowledge and language domain knowledge (plus
presumably knowledge of the individual learner) is highlighted.
• EAL and SLCN are used as exemplars of ways in which two distinct (pedagogic-
ally) fields can be brought together and commonalities highlighted.
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Autistic spectrum disorders
Rita Jordan
The conceptualization and prevalence of Autistic Spectrum

Disorders (ASDs)
Autistic spectrum disorders refer to a range of disorders related to the core

disorder of autism and including Asperger’s syndrome. What are common to
the disorders within the spectrum are difficulties and differences within three
areas of development, known as the ‘triad of impairments’ (Wing 1996). These
are best characterized as difficulties in:
• social and emotional understanding;
• all aspects of communication;
• flexibility in thinking and behaviour (Jordan 2002).
The disorders are recognized as medical categories within both international
systems for the classification of diseases (ICD-10, World Health Organization
1992; DSM-IV, American Psychiatric Association 1994), based on a set of fea-
tures that represent broad descriptive areas rather than particular behaviours.
The core disorder of autism has been recognized for 60 years (Kanner 1943) but
the recognition of the broader spectrum is a more recent phenomenon, start-
ing with Wing’s 1981 description of what became known as Asperger’s
syndrome, after the psychiatrist who identified autism in a more cognitively
and linguistically able group.
The strong genetic base to these disorders is well established (Bailey et al.
1995; Rutter 1999) and there is increasing evidence that the phenotype
is an extreme form of normal variation in information processing style
(Baron-Cohen 2003). Indeed, Baron-Cohen (2003) has supported the view of
Asperger himself that autism represented the extreme form of ‘maleness’ and,
while the evidence does not fully support this, there are strong gender biases
in the spectrum (estimates ranging from 4:1 in favour of males to 14:1).
Autistic spectrum disorders 111
However, the characteristics only become pathological when they interfere

with functioning and distort development. ASDs can be considered as repre-
senting a conjunction of extreme functioning on three dimensions of devel-
opment but the categorical nature of the system of medical classification
misleadingly suggests an absolute distinction between those with an ASD and
those without (Jordan et al. 2001).
The argument against rigid categorization, however, is not the same as
suggesting that ASDs are merely groupings of difficulties in three areas of
development. The use of the diagnostic category is a kind of theory that the
concurrence of these difficulties is not by chance. As with any developmental
disorder, ASDs can be considered at the level of biology, psychology or
behaviour. There is research (supporting the seminal work of Wing and Gould
in 1979) to show the stability of the co-occurrence of the triad of impair-
ments at the behavioural level and hence their use in diagnosis. Yet the
behavioural symptoms vary considerably between individuals on the spec-
trum and within an individual over time. ASDs cannot be diagnosed simply
by a behavioural ‘count’; diagnosis is a clinical judgement based on a devel-
opmental history of the behavioural symptoms and other possible reasons
for the behaviour (such as the follow-up study of 40 infants adopted from
Romanian orphanages, who met criteria for autism on entry but all bar two
of whom ‘recovered’ after a period of stability and care: Rutter et al. 1999).
The undoubted biological bases are nevertheless diverse, with particular links
to particular patterns of the ASD disorder not yet established. It is, therefore,
at the level of psychology – how the individual is feeling, thinking, perceiv-
ing, attending, learning, memorizing and making sense of his or her
environment – that the ‘autism’ is really located and this is the level of
understanding that has to underlie the ‘special’ practice needed for work
with those with ASDs (Powell and Jordan 1993, 1997; Jordan and Powell
1995; Jordan 1999a).
It is also important to recognize the totality of the triad in education and
treatment. Conceptualizations of ASDs in terms of one of those areas (as in
delineating national specialist standards: Teacher Training Agency 1999)
encourage the idea that the difficulties faced by a child can be considered in
isolation. Yet all development takes place in a context both intra and inter the
individual level. Communication difficulties, for example, are different when
the child has problems in understanding his or her own and others’ emotions
and social signals and when they have problems being spontaneous and moni-
toring feedback to their own actions. They also vary enormously according to
the way the environment (people and physical) is geared to foster their under-
standing and so cannot be considered as ‘attributes’ of the child in isolation.
ASDs are transactional disorders, appearing in their interactions with others
and not to be understood without the contextualization from which special
needs are determined.
Despite the clear biological base to ASDs (Bauman and Kemper 1994;
Gillberg and Coleman 2001), there are as yet no reliable and valid biological
markers. Thus it is difficult to obtain an accurate measure of the incidence
(the number of new cases arising each year) and epidemiological data rely on
prevalence figures (the number of new cases identified each year). Since
prevalence reflects not only incidence, but also awareness and availability of
knowledgeable diagnostic services, it is difficult to determine whether the
incidence of ASDs is rising. It seems clear that prevalence is rising and that
what was once regarded as a ‘low incidence’ disorder (at a rate of 4 per 10,000:
Lotter 1966; Fombonne 1999) is now viewed as the most common of the
developmental disorders (at a rate approximating to 1 per 160: Fombonne
2002). It does not follow that a diagnosis of an ASD will automatically imply
special educational needs, but most research and reviews of provision suggest
that the planning for meeting the special needs of such children in school is
failing to make adequate provision even for the very conservative ‘low inci-
dence’ figures, let alone for the later estimates of prevalence (Jordan and Jones
1996; NIASA 2003)
Educational needs in relation to ASDs
ASDs can and do occur across the spectrum of intellectual ability and may be
accompanied by other disabilities and, especially in adolescence, by mental
health problems (notably, depression and bipolar disorder). Some co-morbidities
appear to have a genetic base, including dyslexia, dyspraxia and ADHD (Rutter
1999). Epilepsy (especially late-onset epilepsy) is common in core autism, as
are general learning difficulties. It is clear (Wing 1996; Howlin 1998; Jordan
2001) that general learning difficulties can occur with autism, but there are
problems because of the effects of autism in making cooperation with testing
difficult. Some children with an ASD may have a specific problem in developing
language, and sensory problems are also common.
Special needs in ASDs, as in other groups, are not a simple matter of transla-
tion from a medically designated disorder but need to be understood in terms
of how that disorder is manifested in any particular individual at a particular
time in a particular learning environment (Jordan 2001). Thus, there are few
special educational needs that are uniform across the ASD group (and distinct
from those without an ASD) and none that can be considered out of the con-
text of the individual’s pattern of strengths and weaknesses (including inter-
ests), learning style, personality, the learning environment and supports. Yet
that is not to concede the distinct learning needs position. It is an argument
for individual (unique) learning needs, but only as interpreted within the
understanding of group attributes (Iovannone et al. 2003), as Norwich and
Lewis (Chapter 1) suggest as a possible position.
Orkwis and McLane (1998) (cited Lewis and Norwich this volume) give a
definition of the ‘universal design’ of curricula that is meant to make national
curricula accessible to all (see also Lewis and Norwich 2001). This is taken as
the starting point from which one might examine the ‘nature, rationale and
evidence base’ (Norwich and Lewis, Chapter 1) of the necessary modifications
to the curriculum, as applied to different disability areas. However, ASDs
require two more fundamental issues to be considered. One is the trans-
actional nature of ASDs, which means that ‘solutions’ cannot reside in mere
curriculum adaptation, but must involve changes (based on a specific know-

ledge base and an attitude of acceptance and openness) in those engaged
in planning and teaching that curriculum (Peeters and Jordan 1999;
Scheuermann et al. 2003). The knowledge, skills and attitude of teachers
have been shown to be important variables in the success of all teaching
(Medwell et al. 1998; Wragg et al. 1998; Crawford 2003) but it is even
more important when natural intuitive and professional assumptions are
challenged, as they are in ASDs.
The other challenge to the assumptions behind the notion of ‘universal
design’ is that the values inherent in the ‘curriculum for all’ approach are
problematic when it comes to ASDs, where it is important to consider separ-
ately education as the acquisition of culturally approved skills, knowledge and
attitudes and a more therapeutic model of education as a form of ‘treatment’
for a disability. Oliver’s (1992) rejection of the therapeutic role of education (or
indeed of the need for ‘therapy’ at all) is a point of view that some with an ASD
would endorse (Ward and Alar 2000) but by no means all (Blackburn 2000).
Children with ASDs can be said to share common needs only to the extent that
those needs are so broadly framed that they obscure real differences in how
they can be addressed. Nevertheless, it is a useful reminder for teachers to
recognize that principles of learning and teaching still apply in ASDs. For
example, all children learn best when they are emotionally engaged in their
learning. The difference in ASDs is that there are biological reasons why that is
difficult. Teachers have to be aware of the problem, compensate for it in pro-
viding learning opportunities (by using other ways of making learning access-
ible) and at the same time develop therapeutic programmes (perhaps through
drama: Sherratt and Peter 2002) to help to remediate the difficulty in becom-
ing emotionally engaged. This example utilizes knowledge of distinct group
differences but the unique differences will also need to be addressed at the
level at which the particular way of making learning accessible is addressed
and the particular therapeutic approach that is selected to engage the child.
In relation to the model proposed by Norwich (1996), then, I wish to argue
that there are both group-specific pedagogic needs related to ASDs and indi-
vidual unique needs, which, nevertheless are also related to ASDs. In addition,
there are common needs, unrelated to ASDs but only in respect of broad peda-
gogical principles. The group needs primarily affect the changes (suggested
above) in the individuals involved in planning and teaching (to understand
the need for particular programmes), whereas the unique individual needs
refer to the actual adaptations to curriculum goals, pedagogic approach and
environment, inherent in the ‘universal design’ approach. The argument is
that the unique individual needs of learners with ASDs can only be identified
through the framework of the group needs arising from ASDs. Rather than
seeing how the needs of children with particular disabilities (such as ASDs) can
be incorporated into separately defined ‘common needs’, I would argue that
the latter concept needs to be a true ‘curriculum for all’, informed by know-
ledge of the range and depth of the distinctiveness of individual needs (such as
those arising from ASDs), phrased in terms of pedagogic principles and
incorporating the required flexibility and adaptability. This is akin to the view
voiced by Skrtic (1999). Norwich and Lewis (Chapter 1) also make the point
that recognition of group differences in needs implies that common curricular
needs/aims need to be formulated in general and very flexible terms.
The ‘special’ group needs of children with ASDs arise both directly from
their developmental difficulties and also indirectly by preventing children
with ASDs from participating in the socialization and enculturalization pro-
cess through which development normally takes place. Difficulties in joint
attention, imitation, social and emotional identification and sensitivity to
social signals, for example, affect not just relationships with others but also
how individuals come to understand themselves and the world around them
(Hobson 1993, 2002; Rogers et al. 2003). The fact that social signals lack sali-
ence for them (Klin 1991) means they will need specific training, for example,
to respond to their name as an attention-alerting signal and then teaching
staff will need to use that signal appropriately. Missing out on early dyadic
interaction (Trevarthen et al. 1996) means failures in learning about turn-
taking, the timing of social interactions, the sharing of interests, the capacity
to ‘background’ and ‘foreground’ information and the ability to modulate
levels of arousal. Thus, many children with ASDs experience eye contact as
intrusive and painful and, forcing them to make eye contact when being
addressed, may make it impossible for them to attend to the auditory message.
Teaching for meaning can help, because it is meaningless stimulation that is
confusing and difficult to process (Williams 1996), but teachers will not be
equipped to do this if they are responding at the level of behaviour alone and
not benefiting from the transformation of meaning that a knowledge of ASDs
can bring about (Cumine et al. 1997).
Learning needs arising from communication difficulties
ASDs are the only conditions where communication is separate from language
in its development (Jordan 1996; Noens and van Berckelaer-Onnes, in
press) and so learning needs in this area can illustrate the way in which group
needs can be used to identify individual ones. Structural aspects of language
are not always a problem for pupils with an ASD, although many have addi-
tional language problems. Where there are learning difficulties, there may be
difficulties in acquiring speech because the normal foundation of communica-
tion is absent. Even those with good structural language skills may have
difficulties with articulation and semantics – especially those aspects of mean-
ing that shift according to context. Prosodic difficulties are also marked,
speech often sounding flat and ‘robot-like’. This makes it difficult for them to
mark topic and comment structures in language and to understand how others
use intonation to do that.
Communication remains a severe problem no matter how verbally skilled
the pupil. The difficulties extend to all aspects, including gestures (e.g. indica-
tive pointing), eye signalling, facial expression and body posture. The pupil
will need to be taught what communication is for and how to go about it,
regardless of apparent language skill. Language is often non-productive, failing
to build on what others have said, not relating to the context, but reproducing
familiar learned patterns of speech. Pupils with ASDs will not realize what
knowledge and understanding can be assumed to be shared with their listeners
and so will tend to be pedantic or ambiguous. They will try to understand what
the words mean rather than what the speaker means, interpreting idioms or
sarcasm literally, missing the point or even becoming distressed. Teachers will
need to teach conversational skills (turn-taking, active listening, topic intro-
duction, maintenance and change) and attempt to make pragmatic know-
ledge explicit; for example, looking for opportunities to point out when
knowledge is shared or when someone knows something and others do not.
Some pupils with ASDs can read mechanically beyond their level of under-
standing and may find it easier to learn to read than to listen to stories or to tell
them from picture books, so the normal stages in reading progression may not
apply. Children with ASDs may have no idea about establishing mental
models of the text, whether it is oral or written. In general, reading is likely to
be a strength in ASDs and for some children reading may form a pathway into
speech. On the other hand, dyslexia and ASDs may be linked genetically (Shea
and Mesibov 1985), so there will be some pupils with ASDs who do struggle to
learn to read and write. Clumsiness may also be a feature of the condition,
leading to writing difficulties.
Literal understanding causes particular problems in schools. It may be dif-
ficult for pupils with ASDs to understand oral instructions, especially if
expressed in indirect ‘polite’ forms; ‘Can you draw another triangle like this
one?’ is meant to elicit more than a simple ‘Yes’. Many questions asked in
school are not ‘genuine’ in that they seek information that the questioner has
not got; instead, they are asked to test the pupils’ understanding, to encourage
greater pupil participation or (as above) to issue instructions. Pupils with ASDs
do not have a core of communicative competence on which to build and may
mistake this educational use for the common use of questions and use it as a
model for their own repetitive questioning on topics to which they already
know the answer. They may also repeat questions because they want the
reassurance of the same answer and the teacher will need to recognize the
anxiety (or occasionally, the simple pleasure) behind such questioning rather
than simply treating it as inappropriate behaviour. It is more appropriate to
teach alternative ways of dealing with the anxiety or having fun with the
sounds of words than to try to suppress expression.
A failure to appreciate the nature of conversations and the educational
model of discourse may also lead to the pupil learning inappropriate ways of
interacting with others. A straight modelling of a teacher’s didactic style will
lead to choosing the topic without regard to its appropriateness to the listen-
er’s focus of attention or the immediate context, and therefore producing
bizarre irrelevant comments. It will also lead directly to pedantic, over-explicit
styles, to ignoring signs of listener inattentiveness or boredom and contribu-
tions from others that do not fit the listener’s predetermined goal for the
‘conversation’. Teachers will need to be aware of this and make at least some
attempt to provide a genuinely communicative environment for the pupil
with an ASD for at least some of the time in school.
All these particular difficulties arise directly from ASDs, and so lend support
to group differences in interpreting behaviour while supporting unique
differences in the actual realization within each pupil.
ASD-specific approaches and curricula: origins

and evaluation
The child with an ASD, like any other child, is entitled to a broad and relevant
(not necessarily balanced) curriculum to meet his or her needs, with the issue
being one of access. This common curricular goal, however, needs to be medi-
ated through understanding of group and unique differences. At the same time,
therapeutic approaches start with group rather than common needs, but also
have to move to unique needs for implementation of programmes of action.
Ways of adapting mainstream curricula to meet the needs of pupils with
ASDs have been developed (Cumine et al. 1997; Jordan and Jones 1999; Jones
2002; Seach et al. 2002; Mesibov and Howley 2003) and many educational
authorities in the UK are developing outreach and support services for this
group. Children with significant special needs as a result of their ASD are also
likely to receive some individual support from a special assistant to enable
further access. Here, too, training is essential since the mere addition of a
support worker may do little to help the person with the ASD or his or her
teachers. Nor may it effect true integration or inclusion (Jordan and Powell
1994). However, all these approaches concentrate on the compensatory,
entitlement aspects of education for children with ASDs. The therapeutic
aspects tend to centre on pre-school and special school curricula. This excludes
the majority of children with ASDs from this therapeutic element of education.
Most of the evaluation studies of approaches to ASD have involved the use
of education as therapy, rather than curricular adaptations or programmes to
enable access. In a review of educational approaches in ASDs, Jordan et al.
(1998) raise this issue as well as the inappropriateness of the clinical model of
evaluation when applied to education. There are ethical and practical difficul-
ties involved in establishing scientific models of research that would meet the
clinical standard of a randomized control trial (MRC 2000). Jordan (1999b)
deals with those issues in more depth and suggests some models for
educational research that help to address these concerns.
A further evaluation problem lies in the eclectic nature of most educational
settings in the UK. This means that it is hard to attribute success (or failure) to
one aspect of the curriculum or situation rather than another, unless there are
continual baselines taken and approaches are introduced systematically.
Unfortunately, curriculum development and change, and the adoption of par-
ticular approaches, tend not to be systematic and the effects are poorly docu-
mented. In addition, the fact that most evaluation is by the practitioner
increases the chance of bias and contamination. However, statistically based
results are of limited value to the teacher trying to decide on the best approach
for a particular child in a particular context (i.e. trying to meet unique needs).
Most research designs focus on programmes developed to meet group needs,
whereas it may be more important to know about the individual character-

istics that led to success and/or failure. Action research models or single subject
designs (Odom et al. 2003) may offer more ecologically valid ways of evaluating
particular programmes with particular children in particular schools.
Conclusions
As indicated by Norwich and Lewis (Chapter 1), whatever position is adopted

with respect to the common, different or unique needs of children with ASDs,
it is neutral with respect to the existence and role of specialist provision in
education. The degree to which individuals can and should be taught along-
side typical peers depends on the severity of their unique needs, the expertise
and attitude of the teaching staff (and their access to additional support) in
mainstream settings and the adaptability and flexibility of the mainstream
situation. The balance of advantage for one choice over another will always
vary according to particular circumstances, although there can be value and
policy guidelines to move provision in particular directions (e.g. towards
inclusiveness); Lindsay (2003) has made the case for judgements of placement
to be evidence- rather than dogma-based. The view is taken here that the
balance of advantages is likely to change over time, in any particular case, so
that placement always needs to be under continual review. There are not
individuals who ‘require’ certain placements or even certain curricular adapta-
tions, there are particular situations involving an individual that will deter-
mine those choices. However, within the context of planning and meeting
needs, there will be a tension between the meeting of unique needs through
very distinct curricula and pedagogy and the future effects on the individual’s
capacity to manage in less adapted environments. Whether the pedagogic dif-
ferences required can be captured by the intensiveness and explicitness
dimensions proposed by Norwich and Lewis (Chapter 1) is a separate issue.
Children with ASDs often (but not always) require different approaches rather
than just more (or more focused) of the same.
The issue of curriculum commonality versus difference, discussed by
Lewis and Norwich (2001) and Norwich and Lewis (Chapter 1), can only be
addressed in relation to ASDs by examining what is meant by ‘commonality’.
Reconceptualizing what is ‘common’ as setting principles in which group and
individual needs can be met not only allows ASD approaches to be used but
could see them (focused as they are on an individualised approach) as a model
for others. Jordan et al. (1999) have given an example of how designing a
pedagogical approach and physical environment adapted for those with ASDs
can meet the needs of a far wider group in a special school. An inclusive curric-
ulum is about its applicability to all from its inception and not about adapta-
tions and extensions to make a non-inclusive curriculum more applicable to
excluded groups. I reject the contention that there is a commonality (or typic-
ality) beyond the broadest level, from which groups with special needs may or
may not differ in their curriculum requirements. I suggest that ‘commonality’
is a pragmatic construct from the reality of individualization that is needed in
any curriculum model. Naturally, the broader the curriculum principles, the
more acceptable they are as common, and so the challenge here is to locate the
areas of differentiation (Table 1.3) for ASDs.
The argument is that children with ASDs do have unique needs, which are
recognized through, and derive from, group differences but are not fully
determined by that group membership. Thus, a child with an ASD needs an
individualized approach informed by understanding of ASDs. Can what is
common encompass these needs? It cannot if ‘common’ is taken to mean ‘the
same’ in terms of content and teaching but it could if what is common is a
recognition of the uniqueness of needs in all, and the need to go beyond
behaviour in understanding all children and providing the maximum learn-
ing opportunities for them. In adult care for the learning disabled, we are
moving to a situation idealized as ‘person-centred planning’ (Department of
Health 2001). This seems to me the best model for curriculum design, within
curriculum principles and guidelines that reflect the values and educational
goals of society. It is hard to fit such a model into a system based on centrally
determined content and a didactic system of delivery, but increasing use of
personal systems of instruction, as in IT, may make such an approach more
accessible.
One of the arguments in this chapter is that the issues raised by inclusion are
more fruitfully considered from a reverse perspective. In other words, rather
than considering how what is available in curriculum and pedagogy for a
presumed ‘typical’ group of learners might be adapted for individuals with
ASDs, one could consider how far the curriculum and approach for all might
be better based on recognizing the diversity of learner needs embodied in the
group needs of children with special needs. Many aspects of ‘best practice’ for
those with ASDs, for example, have a wider currency, even in the mainstream.
The explicit teaching required, for example, will be of benefit to other children
with different cultural backgrounds or missed experiences. The use of cueing
will be good for any child who has ever daydreamed in class, as well as those
with attention problems, and the learning style might be shared by many of
the boys that our current educational system is failing (Frosh et al. 2003). That
is not to say that all children will need, or benefit from, precisely the same
curricular content and teaching as the child with an ASD, but all need the
same recognition of their unique variability and the understanding of their
behaviour as arising from a complex interplay of factors that determine its
meaning. This involves a much more radical notion of the changes that need
to be made to provide a genuinely inclusive environment, not just for those
with special needs, but for all.
Summary
Nature of group
• There is a range of disorders related to the core disorder, including Aspergers’s
syndrome.
• These are not a mere grouping of difficulties; concurrence is not by chance.

• There is a strong genetic base but ‘special practice’ requires a psychological level
of understanding.
• It has transactional origins; children should not be considered in isolation.
• It is accompanied by other disabilities and mental health problems.
Pedagogy
• Children with ASD have group-specific needs related to their individual needs as
well as common needs.
• Unique needs can only be identified through a framework of group needs.
• Pedagogic approaches for ASD can benefit some wider groups, though not
necessarily all other children.
Curriculum
• This rejects the universal curriculum design model where design leads to adapta-
tions relating to special educational needs, and questions what is a common
curriculum because: solutions require more than adaptations, links to teachers’
characteristics; it marginalizes the therapeutic model of education.
• A common curriculum can only be formulated in broad terms that could
obscure real differences.
• ASD children are entitled to a broad and relevant, not necessarily balanced,
curriculum.
• The curriculum approach compensates for problems (access) while developing
therapeutic approaches (remediate difficulties).
Knowledge
• Teachers’ knowledge, skills and attitudes are important in appropriate ASD
curricula.
• Teachers require knowledge of distinct ASD differences to address individual
needs of children.
Individual versus general differences as pedagogic base

• A general differences position is adopted. Children often require different
approaches, not just more of the same. ASD children have unique needs
recognized through group differences, but not determined by them.

• An elaborate version of the general difference position is introduced.
• The person-centred planning model of common curriculum rejects central
determination of content and teaching.
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AD/HD
Paul Cooper
Overview
The structure of this chapter is dictated by a particular view of pedagogy that

builds on the definition provided by the book’s editors. The concept of
teachers’ professional ‘craft knowledge’ is central to this expanded view. After
a brief description and discussion of craft knowledge, the possibility of
incorporating research-based theoretical knowledge into teachers’ craft
knowledge is considered. This is followed by an account of AD/HD as a bio-
psycho-social phenomenon, and the contribution to teachers’ craft know-
ledge that can be gained from this. The distinctiveness of the impact of this
knowledge on teachers’ pedagogy is considered in the conclusion to the
chapter.
What is ‘Pedagogy’ and what do we know about how

teachers think?
The editors of this book define ‘pedagogy’ usefully and succinctly as: ‘The
broad cluster of decisions and actions taken in classroom settings that aim to
promote school learning.’ The words ‘decisions’ and ‘aim’ are most important
here because they indicate that we must attach central importance to the
thinking that lies behind the teacher behaviour that we might see in the form
of pedagogic strategies and teacher activity. The problem of seeking insight
from a focus on behaviour alone (in almost any context), however, always
resides in the difficulty of separating the causes and effects of behaviour from
the myriad of contextual variables that surround any behavioural act.
Central to the teacher as craftsperson analogy is the idea that teaching
expertise develops through practice. This means that teaching is not theory-led;
the common-sense theories that all teachers have about why particular peda-
gogical decisions are taken are usually based on experience of what has worked
in the past. Teachers refine their teaching repertoires and routines through
processes of reflection that can be understood in terms of Donald Schon’s
(1983) model of the ‘reflective practitioner’. In the initial stages of a teaching
career, the teacher will often engage in practices that are an imitation of the
behaviours of expert teachers they have observed during their own experience
as a school student, or those they have encountered during their training and
initial teaching experience (Morrison and McIntyre 1968). These approaches
may also be accompanied by hypothesis testing, by which trainees and newly
qualified teachers try out different approaches to facilitating learning of par-
ticular content. By the time teachers have reached the stage of being ‘expert’,
they have accumulated a complex repertoire of teaching skills that enable
them to manage a bewildering number and range of classroom variables and to
make on the spot decisions.
When it comes to research evidence on how teachers think about pupils we
find studies suggesting that teachers’ pedagogical decision-making is strongly
influenced by teachers’ perceptions of pupils that are based on fairly limited
interaction with, and observation of, pupils (Brown and McIntyre 1993). A
study of teachers in English secondary schools found that, after only seven
weeks of Year 7, teachers came to apparently stable decisions about the charac-
teristics of their pupils in terms of pupils’ levels of ability, while strong specula-
tions were being made about pupils’ behaviour, motivation and personal
attributes (Cooper and McIntyre 1996: 133). These decisions can be under-
stood in terms of Hargreaves et al.’s (1975) theory of ‘typing’, by which the
teacher places pupils into ready-made categories relating to pupils’ perceived
ability, behaviour and motivation, and other personal attributes (appearance,
gender etc.) (Cooper and McIntyre 1996). These studies suggest that this ‘typ-
ing’ process is an important element in expert teachers’ professional craft
knowledge, enabling them to make speedy sense of complex circumstances
and conditions in busy classroom settings in which there is a limited time for
extended reflection and analysis.
Typing teachers’ knowledge of effective pedagogy
The dangers of the typing process, identified by Cooper and McIntyre as a

component of teachers’ pedagogical decision-making, are well rehearsed in
the sociological literature on education and special education (e.g. Hargreaves
et al. 1975). Typing can lead to self-fulfilling prophecies. In the field of special
educational needs this concern has been voiced in relation to the phenomenon
of attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (AD/HD). AD/HD has been dismissed
by some commentators as a medical construct that individualizes educational
failure and disruptive behaviour and thus contributes to the social construction
of learning and behavioural problems (e.g. Slee 1995).
It would be wrong to ignore negative possibilities suggested by the practice
of typing. However, it would be equally wrong to assume that the only way to
AD/HD 125
avoid such negative consequences would be to abandon the practice of typing.

It can be argued forcefully that if we are to influence teachers’ practice in ways
that exploit the best research evidence on effective teaching we must do so by
exploiting teachers’ existing patterns of professional thinking (Monro 1999).
The AD/HD diagnostic criteria, it is argued, and the research that supports and
flows from them, can be utilized to great effect in this endeavour.
Theory and pedagogy
A number of important points follow from this discussion. The first point is
that teaching can be usefully understood as a theory-driven process. However,
there is a difference between the practical theorizing of professional teachers
and the scientific theorizing of professional psychologists. Practical theories
are not necessarily articulated explicitly, and are not necessarily falsifiable
(and, therefore, testable) in the way that scientific theories are required to be.
The second point is that it is entirely wrong to dismiss the practical theorizing
of teachers, simply because it is ‘unscientific’ (see O’Connor, 1973). Practical
theorizing is at the heart of expert teaching. It is a central component in the
professional development of teachers and a major source of insight into the
nature of effective teaching. Furthermore, it is a key factor in justifying
the current renewed interest in teacher autonomy as an important basis for the
future development of the teaching profession in complex and fast moving
advanced economies (Johnson and Hallgarten 2002). Finally, practical theor-
izing does not preclude scientific theorizing. It is suggested that the processes
of teaching become more available to scrutiny and purposive development
when (a) practical theorizing is shifted from the tacit to the explicit realm and
(b) opportunities are sensitively created for teachers to incorporate scientific
understandings into their reflections on their practical theories. The rest of
this chapter deals with the contribution that various aspects of the theoretical
construct of AD/HD can make to the development of teachers’ pedagogical
decision-making processes. Before we can develop this line of discussion
further, however, it is necessary to provide a brief account of AD/HD, its nature
and antecedents.
AD/HD: its nature, origins, correlates and evolution
AD/HD is a diagnosis of the American Psychiatric Association (APA 1994).

It describes behavioural symptoms of inattention and/or impulsiveness/
hyperactivity that are presented to a degree that significantly interfere with
a person’s family and peer relations as well as their educational and/or
occupational functioning.
International estimates suggest that between 2 and 6 per cent of school
aged children and young people are affected by AD/HD, with males out-
numbering females by a ratio of 3:1 (Tannock 1998). Current estimates place
the prevalence rate in the UK at between 2 and 5 per cent for school aged
children (NICE 2000). This accords closely with US prevalence rates (APA
1994), making AD/HD one of the most commonly diagnosed childhood dis-
orders (Greenhill 1998). The developmental course of AD/HD usually begins
between the ages of three and four, though some children show evidence of
the disorder in early infancy, and others not until the ages of five or six years
(Anastopoulos 1999). The APA diagnostic criteria requires the presence of
symptoms before the age of seven years.
There are many seriously debilitating social, emotional and behavioural
correlates of AD/HD. Individuals with AD/HD are more likely than the general
population to experience social isolation, accidental injury and psycho-
logical disturbance (Tannock 1998). People with undiagnosed AD/HD are
often dismissed as incompetent, disorganized, aggressive, disruptive, lazy,
untrustworthy, neglectful, selfish, accident prone, antisocial and/or asocial.
Pupils with AD/HD are prone to poorer academic performance than their
scores on standardized tests of cognitive ability predict (Barkley 1990;
Hinshaw 1994). In the UK, Hayden (1997) found the symptoms of hyperactiv-
ity to be one of a range of correlates of formal exclusion from school among
children of primary school age.
This is consistent with the findings of prevalence studies carried out in spe-
cial schools for children with emotional and behavoural difficulties. For
example, Place et al. (2000) found an AD/HD prevalence rate of 70 per cent
there, while Vivian (1994) found a HD rate of 40 per cent. Other studies have
found the symptoms of AD/HD to be associated in adults with serious relation-
ship problems, marital breakdown, employment difficulties (Hinshaw 1994)
and imprisonment (Farrington 1990; Weiss and Hechtman 1993). In addition
to these problems AD/HD is found to co-occur with a wide range of other
difficulties at rates of between 25 and 60 per cent, including specific learning
difficulties (SpLD/dyslexia) (Richards 1995), conduct disorder (CD), oppo-
sitional defiant disorder (ODD), depression (DD) and anxiety disorder (AD)
(Angold et al. 1999; Barkley 1990). The emotional and behavioural ‘co-morbid’
disorders (CD, ODD, DD, AD) tend to emerge during the adolescent years,
giving rise to the hypothesis that these are socially induced problems that
occur as a result of the misunderstanding and mismanagement of the primary
AD/HD symptoms. Having said this, the finding of high rates of co-morbidity
between AD/HD and CD/ODD may indicate the existence of an additional
major sub-type of AD/HD and an externalizing behavioural disorder (Angold
et al. 1999).
The long evolution of the clinical and scholarly treatment of the AD/HD
diagnosis has reached a point where educational implications are clearly
evident. The 1968 DSM II criteria (hyperkinetic reaction of childhood) mark,
to a considerable degree, a shift away from an emphasis on neurobiological
causation (e.g. minimal brain dysfunction) to a continuing emphasis
on behavioural symptoms as the defining characteristics of the condition
(Anastopoulos 1999). This shift is reflected in the alternative diagnosis of
hyperkinetic disorders (HD) (World Health Organization 1990).
AD/HD 127
Executive functions and the evidence base for AD/HD
A definitive account of the causes of AD/HD is not available. However, AD/HD

has become one of the most widely researched disorders in the psychological
and psychiatric literature. Three major areas of theoretical exploration of AD/
HD have been identified (Tannock 1998): cognitive research, neurobiological
research and genetic research. Evidence from studies in these areas creates a
compelling argument for AD/HD as a bio-psycho-social phenomenon and
provides a sound base for a multimodal approach to intervention that
combines medical, psycho-social and educational dimension.
Cognitive research has increasingly focused on impulsiveness as the central
feature of AD/HD, and the possibility that a dysfunctional response inhibition
system is the neuropsychological mechanism, largely located in the physi-
ology of the frontal lobes of the brain, underlying this problem. This neuro-
biological explanation is supported by a number of neuro-imaging studies
(Tannock 1998) as well as by neuro-chemical studies, which have detected
dysfunctions in certain neuro-transmitter systems implicated in the regulation
of attention and behaviour (McMullen et al. 1994). That neurobiological
mechanisms are implicated in the aetiology of AD/HD is further supported by
findings from genetic studies that have shown a much greater incidence of
AD/HD among identical (i.e. monozygotic) twins than among non-identical
(dizygotic) twins, and among children who are biologically related as opposed
to adopted. Molecular genetic research has identified abnormalities in the
dopamine system (McMullen et al. 1994). Dopamine is a neuro-transmitter
that is found in systems of the brain concerned with, among other things, the
regulation of movement (Thompson 1993). These findings suggest that
children with AD/HD are biologically predisposed to experience significantly
greater problems than most in inhibiting or delaying a behavioural response.
The nature of the dysfunction in this system is described alternatively in terms
of a failure of the inhibitory control system to become activated (Barkley 1997)
or as extreme delay in the activation of this system (Sergeant 1995; van der
Meere 1996).
Barkley (1997) proposes an integrated model that suggests that neurologic-
ally based problems of response inhibition lead directly to problems in four
major ‘executive functions’ of the brain that are essential to effective self-
regulation. The first executive function is working memory, impairment of
which makes it difficult for individuals to retain and manipulate information
for purposes of appraisal and planning. The second function is internalized
speech. It is suggested that self-control is exerted through a process of self-talk,
during which possible consequences and implications of behaviours are
weighed up and internally ‘discussed’. The third executive function is motiv-
ational appraisal. This system enables us to make decisions by providing us
with information about the emotional associations generated by an impulse to
act and the extent to which the impulse is likely to produce outcomes we find
desirable. The final executive function is reconstitution, or behavioural syn-
thesis. The role of this function is to enable us to plan new and appropriate
behaviours as an outcome of deconstructing and analysing past behaviours.
In addition to the cognitive–neuroscientific evidence, there are data from a

number of studies to suggest that factors in the family environment may be
implicated in the development of AD/HD. Family factors include parenting
skills (Taylor et al. 1991), disorderly home environments (Cantwell 1996),
marital discord between parents (Barkley 1990), maternal mental health and
paternal personality factors (Nigg and Hinshaw 1998). These findings com-
bined with the neuro-physiological research suggest that AD/HD is a bio-
psycho-social phenomenon; that is, a behavioural manifestation with its origins
in a biologically based predisposition. The biological predisposition and the
behavioural outcomes, however, are mediated by environmental and
experiential factors (Frith 1992; Rutter 2002).
Once we move into this bio-psycho-social territory the unhelpful polarity
that is sometimes stated in terms of biological versus social explanations for
learning and behavioural problems (e.g. Slee 1995; Visser 1997; Booth and
Aimscow 1998) becomes redundant. It is clear that AD/HD is influenced by
both biology and the social environment. AD/HD is, indeed, ‘socially con-
structed’ (Purdie et al. 2002), but certain individuals, by virtue of their
biological inheritance and social circumstances, are more prone to being con-
structed as being ‘disordered’ in this way than others. The school is a major site
where this process of social construction takes place, and it is through the
patterns of institutional controls and pedagogical practices that such construc-
tion is implemented. These also provide the means by which deconstruction
can take place.
The pedagogical implications of understanding AD/HD as a

bio-psycho-social phenomenon
A key problem with the DSM diagnostic criteria is that they harbour taken for
granted assumptions about the kinds of pupil behaviours that are to be
expected in properly functioning classrooms. Pupils from an early age are
expected to internalize and behave in accordance with a set of rules that derive
from constraints imposed by a teacher-centred, curriculum-focused method of
teaching pupils in age-related groups. Teacher–pupil ratios create potential
problems of social disorder that are met with rules of conduct designed to
regulate pupil movement around the classroom and interactions between
peers. Externally imposed curricula, as opposed to negotiated curricula, assum-
ing a tight relationship between pupil age and cognitive functioning, tend to
be managed by teachers in ways that require pupils to follow a lineal pro-
gramme of tasks at predetermined times and within strict time limits. It
follows from this that teachers often fulfil the role of ‘instructors’, providing
an estimated 80 per cent of the talk that goes on in classrooms (Sage 2002).
Pupils, therefore, are required to be expert in following complex instructions
and internalizing behavioural and cognitive routines that, in turn, are
intended to establish patterns of self-regulation that become increasingly
important as pupils pass through the higher realms of the curriculum and
schooling process. It has long been noted that this factory model of education
AD/HD 129
is by no means the only, or even the most desirable, model of schooling. At its
worst it rewards conformity and passivity at the expense of intellectual curios-
ity, critical debate and creativity (Silberman 1971). At its best it favours pupils
whose cognitive styles favour systematic reflection and abstract lineal think-
ing. This makes schooling a problematic experience for many contemporary
pupils and provides a major, relatively new source of stress to pupils with
attention and activity problems.
Cognitive strategies
The pedagogical task of the teacher is to mediate between these ever-present

forces that socially construct problems and exacerbate existing problems for
the learner in order to achieve desired forms of pupil participation that are
calculated to produce desired learning outcomes. The pedagogical thinking
of the teacher knowledgeable about AD/HD will be significantly influenced
by the knowledge that an appropriately diagnosed individual will have been
judged to demonstrate specific cognitive deficiencies in relation to executive
functions. Broswell (1995) contrasts cognitive distortions – that is, problems
of understanding – with cognitive deficits that are processing difficulties.
This distinction can be used to inform pedagogical decision-making by
directing the teacher towards strategies designed to ‘train or reinforce his or
her use of the “missing pieces” in his or her cognitive repertoire’ (Braswell
1991). Cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) (Meichenbaum 1997), some-
times referred to as cognitive behaviour modification (CBM), provides the
basis for classroom interventions that can be used by teachers. These com-
monly involve teaching pupils to use internal dialogue in order to regulate
their thinking and behaviour through self-reinforcement of desired
behaviours, self-instruction techniques and problem-solving routines (Ervin
et al. 1996; Royer 1999). Self-monitoring strategies have been found to
increase pupils’ attention to task and reduce the core symptoms of AD/HD
(Lerner et al. 1995). However, evidence for the overall efficacy of CBT for
AD/HD is far from conclusive. Reviews by Purdie et al. (2002), Royer (1999)
and Ervin et al. (1996) report mixed findings, though school-based pro-
grammes tend to be more effective than clinic-based approaches in promot-
ing behavioural change (Ervin et al. 1996). This change, however, is not
often generalized to settings outside the training situation, though Royer
(1999) asserts that generalization can be achieved if it is systematically
programmed.
It has been suggested by Ervin et al. (1996) that some of the disappointing
research evidence in relation to CBT in relation to AD/HD is possibly the result
of a failure of some of the interventions to distinguish effectively between
cognitive deficits and cognitive distortions (see above). Ervin indicates that
many CBT interventions are based on the erroneous assumption that children
with AD/HD lack cognitive strategies, rather than the more persuasive view
(proposed by Barkley 1997) that dysfunctions in the operation of their execu-
tive functions make it difficult for them to perform the strategies, even when
they know them. This suggests that CBT techniques will be more successful if
they focus on providing pupils with techniques that enable them to delay and
inhibit their responses.
Educational strategies
‘Educational’ approaches ‘reframe’ AD/HD as a particular cognitive style,

rather than a ‘deficit’ (Cooper and Ideus 1996; Cooper and O’Regan 2001).
They are pedagogical strategies designed to exploit, rather than inhibit, some
of the characteristics associated with AD/HD; for example, through the use of
visual-motor tasks (Zentall et al. 1993; DuPaul and Stoner 1995; Zentall and
Stormont-Spurgin 1995; Purdie et al. 2002). Evidence from studies reviewed by
DuPaul and Stoner (1995) supports this view that pupils with AD/HD respond
well to feedback and reinforcement when the frequency of these interventions
is greater than for ‘regular’ students. Interventions based on the belief that
students with AD/HD tend to have an active (‘kinaesthetic’) learning style
have been shown to increase levels of attention to tasks and reduce disruptive
and impulsive behaviours (Hinshaw et al. 1984). Related to this is the insight
that pupils with AD/HD are particularly prone to the negative consequences of
‘recess deprivation’ (Zentall and Stormont-Spurgin 1995). Pelligrini and Horvat
(1995) found that disruptive behaviour decreased and on-task behaviour
increased when periods of ‘seatwork’ were punctuated by frequent periods of
structured physical activity. This implies that the redistribution of such time
throughout the day at regular intervals will produce positive outcomes.
A classroom problem associated with AD/HD, talking at inappropriate times,
can be exploited by increasing opportunities for on-task verbal participation
(Zentall 1995). Studies have found that pupils with AD/HD perform better on
reading comprehension tasks when they are required to read comprehension
passages aloud, rather than silently (Dubey and O’Leary 1975). Zentall (1995)
also suggests that seating pupils in a semi-circle around the teacher or in
small groups produces more on-task verbal participation and more appropriate
hand raising behaviours during whole-class teaching episodes. Furthermore,
there is evidence to support the conclusion that reducing the teacher–pupil
ratio, in situations involving teacher–group verbal interaction, improves the
quality of engagement of pupils with AD/HD (Zentall 1995). This effect is
enhanced when teachers provide behavioural models for active listening
strategies.
The twin pedagogical strategies of behavioural modelling and teacher
direction are strongly associated with a reduction in pupil inattentiveness and
impulsiveness in the classroom and positive academic outcomes. These effects
are most powerful when teacher direction involves clear and distinct informa-
tion about performance, behavioural expectations and expected outcomes.
Optimal pupil performance is associated with brevity and clarity of sequences
of instruction, the accompaniment of verbal instructions with visual cues and
the availability of resources that pupils can refer to for reminders of direction
and expectations (DuPaul and Stoner 1995; Zentall 1995). The use of pupils as
AD/HD 131
behavioural and academic models through the careful programming of inter-

action between the pupil with AD/HD and preferred role models is also found
to be an effective pedagogical tool, though it is important that the opportun-
ities for disruption created by such pupil interaction are controlled by the
teacher’s use of positive reinforcement for task appropriate and socially desir-
able behaviour (Zentall 1995). In accordance with these findings, Cooper and
O’Regan (2001) provide case study material indicating that pupils with AD/HD
can benefit from taking on the role of peer tutors with younger, less competent
pupils.
In a classroom environment in which extraneous stimuli, such as irrelevant
noise and other distractors, are limited, and where pedagogical strategies of
the type described above are in use, opportunities are created to enable the
pupil with AD/HD to practise self-pacing. Self-pacing, as opposed to external
(i.e. teacher directed) pacing, is associated with greater accuracy (Zentall 1995)
and pupil self-reported satisfaction (Cooper and Shea 1999) with learning
tasks. This can usefully extend to providing pupils with AD/HD with
opportunities to remove themselves from classroom situations that they
find stressful to a predetermined quiet area (DuPaul and Stoner 1995; Zentall
1995).
In their meta-analysis of interventions for AD/HD, Purdie et al. (2002) found
that, in comparison to clinic-based interventions, educational interventions
of the type described above were most effective in promoting positive cogni-
tive outcomes (defined in terms of non-specified academic performance, lan-
guage and reading skills, mathematical skills, IQ and memory functions).
Although the overall mean effect size was small (28), it was concluded that
educational interventions were the most effective in producing cognitive
improvements. School-based cognitive interventions were also more effective
than clinic-based cognitive interventions. This highlights the central import-
ance of pedagogical approaches to the amelioration of the negative outcomes
of AD/HD. Multimodal approaches (combining medical, psycho-social and
educational interventions) were found to be second only to medication in
achieving improvements in behaviour, and superior to medication in
producing improvements in social functioning.
The focus of this chapter on pedagogy has meant that the issue of medica-
tion has not been dealt with. This might be seen as an omission by some
readers. Medication is seen by many commentators as the single most import-
ant feature of the AD/HD phenomenon (Slee 1995; Baldwin 2000). The irony
of this position is that it assumes a bio-medical definition of AD/HD. On the
other hand, viewing AD/HD from an educational perspective enables us to
envision what is possible when schools and teachers adopt AD/HD as an edu-
cational issue. It has already been suggested in this chapter that AD/HD as a
debilitating problem is at least in part constructed by the uncritical acceptance
of certain assumptions about what the demands of schooling are and should
be. It is suggested that the concept of AD/HD illuminates these assumptions
and thus leads us to important pedagogical insights. It may well be the case
that were these insights to be widely incorporated into the craft knowledge
of teachers then the use of medication for pupils with AD/HD could be less
necessary than currently assumed, as a means of enabling pupils with AD/HD

to participate in educational settings.
Having said this, significant obstacles remain. For reasons already outlined,
AD/HD cannot be dealt with simply through reference to a recipe book. Some
of the educational implications of what the evidence base tells us about
appropriate pedagogy for pupils with AD/HD may well be seen to challenge
approaches to teaching and the organization of schools that are well estab-
lished and underpinned by statutory accountability structures. For example,
approaches to pacing and the role of pupil self-direction described above
might be seen to be in conflict with Ofsted criteria. Suggestions relating to
staff–pupil ratios are bound to strike fear into the heart of fiscally prudent
politicians and the managers of LEA budgets. Furthermore, the role of ‘typing’
in teachers’ pedagogical decision-making is problematic. If AD/HD is con-
strued as a bio-medical issue then its function may be to encourage teachers to
abdicate responsibility for adapting their practice in favour of expecting (or
even demanding) medication to be applied in order to adapt the pupil to an
unsuitable learning environment. These challenges can only be met through
creative ways of educating teachers about AD/HD, and enabling them to
assimilate knowledge about it into their craft knowledge.
Conclusion: what, if anything, is distinctive about

pedagogy for pupils with AD/HD?
Pupils with AD/HD do well in classroom environments that are managed in

ways that acknowledge involuntary difficulties they may have with regulating
their attention, motor activity and tendency towards impulsiveness. This
could be said of virtually all pupils in most schools throughout the world.
When we look at schooling from the perspective of the individual with AD/HD
we find fault lines that, when addressed, benefit all pupils. The particular prob-
lem here, however, is that the surface difficulties posed by the child with AD/
HD, which tend to be behavioural, are easily and effectively addressed by
medication alone (Purdie et al. 2002). They are also rendered more amenable
to the kinds of pedagogical practices described in this chapter (Barkley 1990).
However, it may be the case that in the mainstream classroom the absence of a
disruptive behavioural presence may make it unnecessary for the teacher to
adapt her pedagogical practices in order to promote the optimal educational
engagement of the pupil with AD/HD. After all, while the majority of pupils
might benefit from AD/HD-friendly pedagogy, they do not necessarily
demand it. The majority of pupils, it seems, are able to tolerate classrooms
that fall short of the requirements demanded by the unmedicated child with
AD/HD. We return, therefore, to a central theme of this chapter: AD/HD is to a
significant degree constructed by assumptions about what a mainstream class-
room and school are meant to look like. The strategies described above will be
rendered ‘generic’ only when these assumptions are firmly challenged at the
policy level.
AD/HD 133
Summary
Nature of the group

• AD/HD is a psychiatric condition that interferes with educational and other
functioning.
• It co-occurs with other conditions covered in this book.
• It is a bio-psycho-social condition that undercuts the dichotomy between social
and biological causation; some individuals are more prone to being socially
constructed this way than others.
Pedagogy
• Professional craft knowledge is important.
• Thinking lies behind teacher actions; practical theorizing is at the heart of
teaching.
• Scientific theories can be incorporated into teacher reflections on their practices.
• Pedagogy is strongly influenced by teachers’ perceptions of pupil characteristics,
the use of ready-made categories and the typing process.
• Typing can have negative and positive potentials, where knowledge about
conditions like AD/HD is central.
• The school, as the site for this social process through current institutional and
pedagogic practices, partly produces and exaggerates problems.
• Cognitive behavioural interventions inform pedagogic strategies. AD/HD is a
cognitive style rather than a deficit. The strategy is to exploit the AD/HD charac-
teristics rather than suppress them. There are implications for the organization
of classroom setting and scheduling.
• Use of these strategies is likely to reduce teacher abdication of responsibility and
decrease the need for medication.
Curriculum
• Curriculum structure and product orientation are implicit in the construction of
AD/HD, implicating national strategies.
• There is a need for curriculum implementation and organizational arrangements
that are more geared to pupil learning styles.
Knowledge
• Knowledge about AD/HD is relevant to practical theorizing.
• Knowledge of AD/HD as bio-psycho-social versus a bio-medical condition is
central to educational strategies.

• The general difference position is implicit in the case for incorporating insights
about AD/HD into teachers’ practical theorizing and teaching.
• Generalized pedagogic strategies are seen as benefiting non-AD/HD pupils.

• Teachers’ pedagogy based on craft knowledge and practical theorizing is
central.
• Teacher decision-making involves typing; this needs to be harnessed in positive
ways.
• The factory model/instruction style of schooling is critiqued.
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Dyslexia
Gavin Reid
Introduction
This chapter examines pedagogical approaches in the area of dyslexia and

relates these to the ‘unique differences’ position indicated by Norwich and
Lewis (Chapter 1). It suggests that pedagogical approaches aimed at dyslexic
children require a recognition of general teaching principles, informed
through a ‘specialized’ knowledge base.
It can be suggested that ‘dyslexia’ is one of the best known, but least under-
stood, ‘disabilities’. The term dyslexia is frequently used in the popular press.
There is often reference in publicity campaigns and other literature on dyslexia
to famous and successful personalities who are dyslexic. Yet although the label
may be known to many, it can be argued that the term dyslexia is not necessar-
ily fully understood. There can be a gap between the use of the term ‘dyslexia’
on the one hand and a conceptual understanding of its defining features,
characteristics and the implications of these for pedagogy on the other. This is
a consequence of the longstanding and ongoing debate and controversies sur-
rounding the nature of dyslexia, and how the label ‘dyslexia’ is used, or indeed
misused, in practice.
The debate
There is ongoing debate relating to the nature of dyslexia and the particular
neurological structures and cognitive processes that contribute to dyslexia
(Snowling 2000; Fawcett 2002; Knight and Hynd 2002; Reid 2003). There is
also debate on the nature of the reading difficulties experienced by children
with dyslexia, particularly concerning the qualitative differences between
dyslexic readers and ‘garden variety poor readers’ (Stanovich 1988: 96).
Dyslexia 139
Similarly, some frequently applied assessment measures, particularly on the

use of IQ and discrepancy criteria, in an assessment for dyslexia have been
subjected to criticism (BPS 1999; Burden 2002; Reid 2003).
This was one of the aspects discussed in the working party enquiry (BPS
1999) into dyslexia and psychological assessment. The working party report
suggested that ‘statistically unexpected contrasts between individual norm-
referenced reading test scores and those predicted on the basis of IQ scores
(discrepancy criteria of dyslexia) can be criticised on theoretical grounds’ (BPS
1999: 63). The working party report provided no fewer than ten different
hypotheses that can be associated with dyslexia. This gives some indication
of the measure of the potential confusion about the nature of dyslexia and
underlines the need for a specialized knowledge base.
In relation to definitions of dyslexia the picture can also be conflicting
and confusing. In the United States there is a clear focus on word decoding:
‘Dyslexia is a specific learning disability that is neurobiological in origin. It is
characterized by difficulties with accurate and/or fluent word recognition and
by poor spelling and decoding abilities’ (IDA 2003). In the UK, however, the
British Dyslexia Association (BDA) provides a broader definition that focuses
on visual and organizational factors, and attention, cognitive and coordin-
ation difficulties, as well as literacy difficulties (http://www.bda-dyslexia.org.
uk). The definition of dyslexia in the BPS working party report also generated
discussion. The report suggested that ‘dyslexia is evident when accurate and
fluent word reading and/or spelling develops very incompletely or with great
difficulty . . . it provides the basis for a staged process of assessment through
teaching’ (BPS 1999: 11). This has generated considerable debate because it
seems to blur any distinction, if one does exist, between dyslexic and poor
readers. This would therefore imply that pedagogical approaches suitable for
dyslexic children would be suitable for all children with reading difficulties,
whether dyslexic or not.
Although there has been a greater emphasis on defining dyslexia there is also
debate about the effectiveness of different teaching approaches (Norwich
and Lewis 2001; Reid 2003). This debate has focused on phonological
approaches, process-based interventions, literacy teaching (including top-
down approaches), self-esteem and parental support.
One of the key aspects of the debate on dyslexia has in fact centred on the
notion that children with dyslexia need different teaching and in some cases
different provision. This is encapsulated in the statement that ‘The growing
consensus that there are common approaches to teach literacy for the diver-
sity, including those with specific learning difficulties and the view that some-
thing different is needed that is additional [and] is not needed by most pupils’
(Norwich and Lewis 2001: 321). This is further fuelled by the controversies
surrounding the range of difficulties associated with dyslexia (Nicolson 2001)
and the notion of dyslexia as a continuum and an umbrella or ‘convenience
term’ (Burden 2002).
Origins of the pedagogical approaches
The ‘causal modelling framework’ (Morton and Frith 1995; Frith 2002) can
provide a theoretical framework for conceptualizing dyslexia and therefore for
understanding the origins and principles for current pedagogical approaches.
Frith (2002) asserts that the definition and explanation of dyslexia has long
been problematic. She suggests that a causal modelling framework involving
three levels of description – behavioural, cognitive and biological – can help to
clarify some of the issues relating to the concept of dyslexia.
The three levels suggested by Frith can provide a useful guide because differ-
ent professionals will have different priorities and interests; for example, the
teacher and psychologist will be interested in the behavioural and cognitive
dimensions, while the neuro-psychologist will be interested in the neurological
and biological factors. The important point is that, at all three levels, inter-
actions with cultural and environmental influences occur. It is therefore crucial
that any evaluation of pedagogical approaches should be considered within
this frame of reference. This would also indicate that it is unlikely that any
one approach would be successful for all children diagnosed as having
dyslexia.
Phonological awareness and multisensory programmes
Most of the research and the definitions of dyslexia appear to point to the
important role of phonological programmes for children with dyslexia. These
usually have a prominent bottom-up phonic element and are normally linked,
to a lesser degree, to top-down approaches (Connor 1994; Reid 2003). These
may also be integrated with visually based approaches. Vellutino and Scanlon
(1986) claim that teaching both sight and phonic strategies leads to the
flexible application of these strategies in the acquisition of reading.
In the UK there has been considerable activity in the study of phonological
awareness and the use of phonological approaches in assessment and teaching
in relation to dyslexia. This is reflected in the development of assessment and
teaching materials such as the Phonological Abilities Test (Muter et al. 1997),
the Phonological Assessment Battery (Fredrickson et al. 1997), the Dyslexia
Screening Tests (Fawcett and Nicolson 1996), the Listening and Literacy Index
(Weedon and Reid 2001) and the Special Needs Assessment Profile (Weedon
and Reid 2003). Additionally, there are many phonological teaching
approaches such as Sound Linkage (Hatcher 1994), the Phonological Aware-
ness Training Programme (Wilson 1993), the Hickey Multisensory Teaching
System (Combley 2001), Phonic Code-cracker (Russell 1992), the Teaching
of Handwriting, Reading and Spelling (THRASS, Davies 1998), Toe by Toe
(Cowling and Cowling 1998) and the Multisensory Teaching System for
Reading (Johnson et al. 1999), all of which have been developed and claim to
be successful for children with dyslexia.
Wise et al. (1999) conducted a large-scale study using different forms of
‘remediation’ and found that the type of phonological awareness training was
Dyslexia 141
less important than the need to embed that training within a well structured
and balanced approach to reading. Adams (1990) argues that combining
phonological and ‘whole language’ approaches to reading should not be seen
as incompatible. Indeed, it is now well accepted that poor readers rely on
context more than do good readers. Language experience is therefore as vital
to the dyslexic child as is a structured phonological awareness programme.
This is particularly important in the secondary education sector, where it may
be inappropriate to provide a phonological based programme for a dyslexic
student (Nation and Snowling 1998). In the secondary sector the priority may
be on language experience, print exposure and comprehension activities (Peer
and Reid 2001).
The key question for the purpose of this chapter is whether these approaches
need to be any different for children with dyslexia. There is evidence that the
key factor for children with dyslexia is in fact how the materials and pro-
grammes are presented and how the learning outcomes are assessed (Reason
1998; Peer and Reid 2001). This would imply that the pedagogy is in fact an
adaptation of class teaching.
Review and evaluation of pedagogical approaches
There is a plethora of teaching programmes that claim to be successful for

children with dyslexia (see Reid 2003 for a detailed description of and com-
ment on these). Many of these are essentially bottom-up programmes and are
characterized by the following factors:
• multisensory, indicating that the programme involves visual, auditory,
kinaesthetic and tactile involvement;
• sequential, involving a step-by-step approach;
• cumulative, indicating a progression, with the previous step providing a
foundation for the next step;
• over-learning, a series of repetitive activities to help the learner to achieve
mastery.
Walker (2000) discusses an evaluation study using the structured, cumulative,
mutisensory teaching formula (Rack and Walker 1994) and shows that the
pupils who were taught in this way for one to two hours a week for just over
two years doubled their rate of progress in spelling and did even better in
reading. According to Walker (2000) this emphasizes some key factors in
developing a programme for children with dyslexia. Principally this includes
the view that the student with dyslexia may need more input and a different
structure of teaching from other children. It also presupposes that the teacher
should be aware of (a) the factors associated with the acquisition of literacy,
(b) the particular difficulties in literacy that can be noted in dyslexic children,
(c) the principles of multisensory teaching, (d) the importance of selecting
clear and coherent teaching aims and (e) an awarenesss of the important role
played by both pre-reading strategies and proofreading, as a post-writing
strategy, in the teaching of students with dyslexia.
Reason (1998) also indicated that children with dyslexia, compared with
other readers, learn more slowly and need more time to learn. Fawcett (1989,
2002) suggests that the dyslexia automatization deficit hypothesis might
explain this factor. She suggests that children with dyslexia have a difficulty in
acquiring automaticity and need more time, through over-learning, to achieve
this. It can be argued that these are underlying principles for teaching dyslexic
children. These principles can also be found in many other reading and teach-
ing programmes that can benefit all children. This would imply, therefore,
that these approaches are not dyslexia-distinctive, although they may have to
be applied with more intensity with dyslexic children.
Programmes and approaches

Reid (2003) has subdivided pedagogical approaches that can be used for
children with dyslexia into the following categories:
• Individualized programmes. These are usually programmes that are highly
structured. These can be seen as essentially free-standing and can form a
central element of the overall strategy for teaching children with dyslexia.
• Support approaches and strategies. These may utilize the same principles as
some of the individual programmes, but can be used more selectively by the
teacher. This makes it possible to integrate them more easily into the normal
activities of the curriculum.
• Assisted learning techniques. These strategies utilize different (and a variety of)
methods but a central and essential component is the aspect of learning
from others. Therefore, these programmes could involve either peer or adult
support and interaction, as well as utilizing some of the principles of
modeling.
• Whole-school approaches. These approaches recognize that dyslexia can be a
whole-school concern and not just the responsibility of individual teachers.
Such approaches require an established and accessible policy framework for
consultancy, whole-school screening and monitoring of children’s progress.
Early identification is a further key aspect of a whole-school approach.
These approaches can also be viewed as incorporating the debate that forms
the focus of this book. This is highlighted in Table 11.1, which suggests that
the specialized and support approaches are those described in the opening
chapter as ‘high density’ teaching and specialized adaptations. The assisted
learning approaches and whole-school approaches are those that can be con-
sidered within the ‘unique differences’ position and the common perspectives
of all learners. This implies that these approaches utilize common pedagogic
principles.
Table 11.1 highlights how some established teaching programmes and strat-
egies can be broadly categorised into the general (or group) differences posi-
tion and the unique differences position. Some individualized approaches,
which may require specific training to use and are generally seen as one-to-one
teaching programmes, can be categorized within the general differences posi-
tion. These programmes can also be supplementary to the other work taking
Dyslexia 143
Table 11.1 Pedagogical approaches
General differences position

Individualized programmes ‘Continua’ of specialized approaches
Alphabetic Phonics Aston Portfolio
Alpha to Omega Simultaneous oral spelling
Bangor Dyslexia Teaching System Counselling approaches
Hickey Language Course Visual acuity activities
Reading Recovery Programme Word games
Toe by Toe
THRASS
Units of Sound
Slingerland Orton-Gillingham Method
Sound linkage
Unique differences position
Assisted learning Whole-school approaches
Apprenticeship approach Counselling strategies
Paired reading Literacy projects
Peer tutoring Study skills programmes
Reciprocal teaching Thinking skills
Cued spelling Consultancy
place within the curriculum and therefore may be seen as an ‘add-on’. These
individualized approaches can be supported by those under the category ‘con-
tinua of specialized approaches’ because the latter can link with the type of
intensive input from the individualized approaches. For example, the Hickey
language course can be enriched by some of the approaches in the ‘continua’
section, such as word games and counselling approaches. These approaches
can be seen to be located within the general differences position.
The unique differences position relates to approaches that are intended for
all children as a means of accessing literacy. For example, paired reading and
peer tutoring can be beneficial to all readers. However, at the same time there
is evidence that they can help ‘reading delayed’ children (Topping 2000).
Similarly, whole-school approaches, which are essentially aimed at all children
irrespective of whether they have literacy difficulties or not, may also benefit
children with reading difficulties. This was noted, for example, in some of the
reading projects reported in Reid (1998) that took place in Sunderland,
Knowsley and Newcastle. For example, in the Knowsley project the evaluation
cited an average 20 month improvement in reading over a one-year period
(Brooks et al. 1996).
Many of the evidenced-based approaches for dyslexia are principally based
on evaluation studies of individual programmes, examining gains in reading
and spelling over an identified period of time. Some of the individual pro-
grammes have been evaluated positively. Hornsby and Miles (1980) conducted
a series of investigations examining ‘dyslexia-centred teaching’ programmes
with the aim of evaluating how effective these programmes were in alleviating
dyslexia. This study and a follow-up study (Hornsby and Farmer 1993) indicate
that the programmes did result in an improvement in terms of pupils’ reading
and spelling ages. Additionally, other programme providers have published
reports on the effectiveness of particular programmes, as well as independent
evaluations. For example, Johnson (1999) reported on the Multisensory Teach-
ing Scheme for Reading and Moss (2000) on Units of Sound and other
programmes, such as Bangor Dyslexia Teaching System (Turner 2002) and the
teaching of reading through spelling.
Underlying principles/learning strategies

Snowling (2000) reports on a number of phonological intervention studies.
One of particular interest is that conducted by Wise et al. (1999). They used a
range of phonological interventions with three groups of children, all with
severe reading deficits, and compared three different interventions, all of
which related to phonological acquisition. It was concluded that, overall,
there was little evidence that the type of phonological training mattered. Wise
et al. suggest that their findings lend support to the view that work on phono-
logical awareness, prior to and integrated within a well structured approach to
reading, is helpful for children with specific reading difficulties.
According to Townsend (2000), an effective teaching programme for
dyslexic children should include, apart from phonological aspects, other fac-
tors such as the promotion of attention and listening, the development of
spoken language, the development of fine motor skills and handwriting,
sequencing and directionality and the development of short- and long-term
memory skills. It has been well documented that the principles of a teaching
programme for dyslexic children include multisensory, structured, cumulative
and sequential aspects. Additionally, it is likely that the programme will also
have a phonic emphasis even though a number of dyslexic children may pres-
ent with more pronounced visual difficulties, rather than those of a phonic
nature (Everett 2002). One of the important points to be considered is the view
that each dyslexic child should be viewed as an individual and therefore any
pedagogical programme should not be overly prescriptive because adaptations
will have to be made to accommodate to the individual’s needs.
Critique and evaluation of practice

Pumfrey and Reason (1992: 113) recognize the potential difficulties in evaluat-
ing pedagogical approaches for dyslexia when they suggest that ‘The key issue
is whether the considerable range of teaching/learning methods, techniques
and materials currently available are differentially effective with pupils having
identifiably different learning characteristics.’ They also suggest that one of
the important aspects of pedagogical approaches for children with dyslexia is
the quality of teaching. They state that ‘one important aspect of teaching
quality is the knowledge, ability and willingness to look critically at the
evidence . . . in support of particular methods’ (ibid.: 125). The view held by
Pumfrey and Reason in 1992 still holds good today; they suggest that, for
Dyslexia 145
conceptual reasons, there is unlikely ever to be a panacea for dyslexia. This is

worthy of consideration in the light of the aim of this chapter to examine the
evidence for specific pedagogical approaches for dyslexia. It can be argued that
while the evidence may support one approach over another, crucial aspects
such as the quality of teaching, the resources available and the nature and
availability of training programmes need to be considered and weighed
against environmental considerations. There is, however, no evidence that the
implementation of these approaches represents an ‘alternative’ classroom
pedagogy.
International dimension
It is acknowledged in the BPS (1999) report that dyslexia can occur across
languages, cultures, socio-economic status, race and gender. However, while
dyslexia is recognized in most countries, there are still across-cultural differ-
ences in perceptions and definitions of dyslexia. These perceptions can be a
result of policy differences or factors attributed to the language of the country.
In the UK, it is estimated that there are two million severely dyslexic indi-
viduals, including 375,000 school children (Smythe 2002). In contrast, there
are no such estimates in China. Whether this reflects perceived importance or
differences in incidence is as yet unknown; however, it is known that differ-
ences in awareness will lead to variations in provision. For example, Wydell
(2003) argues that phonological processing deficits, which are a common indi-
cator of dyslexia in most countries, do not necessarily impede the acquisition
of reading in Japanese. This is because the units of writing are larger than the
phoneme unit and the language has perfect symmetry between letters and
sounds. Goswami (2000) proposes that the phonological representations
hypothesis ‘offers a unifying causal framework at the cognitive level for many
of the difficulties faced by dyslexic children in different languages’. She sug-
gests that orthographic transparency together with within-child speech pro-
cessing factors will influence the speed and efficiency of representations at the
phonemic level. She also suggests that children who are learning to read in
non-transparent languages will acquire reading and spelling more slowly than
do children who are learning to read and spell in transparent orthographies.
Goulandris (2003: 12) suggests, in relation to dyslexia in different languages,
that there is a recurrent theme, such as the view that ‘language specific differ-
ences account for significant individual differences in performances in phono-
logical awareness and reading and spelling ability’. She also suggests that the
evidence points to difficulties in phonological processing as the core difficulty
in dyslexics in all countries. This was so even though in some languages (such
as German, Greek and Dutch) the dyslexics were able to perform many of the
simpler tasks with ease, but when they were faced with more challenging tasks,
such as ‘spoonersims’, phonological memory tasks or rapid naming, perform-
ance deficits were reported. Therefore, it follows that if dyslexic children are
required to learn irregular languages (such as English and French), reading,
spelling and phonological difficulties will be evident. If they are exposed to
regular orthographies (such as Italian or Spanish) ‘the underlying impairments

will be masked by their apparently proficient literacy skills’ (ibid.: 13). It has
been noted above that there is a generic element to the underlying principles
suggested for pedagogy for dyslexic children and this would imply that there is
not a distinctive ‘dyslexia’ curriculum, as these principles would benefit all
learners. This view appears also to be supported by the international studies
because the specific approaches would vary depending on the attributes and
characteristics of the language used in each country, although the underlying
principles indicated earlier in this chapter may still be valid.
Conclusion
This chapter has sought to highlight the view that an understanding of the
various aspects that contribute to dyslexia, through reference to a framework,
such as the casual modelling framework (Morton and Frith 1995), is necessary
in order to guide and monitor the progress of children identified as dyslexic.
While it is recognized that a cluster of characteristics may contribute to dys-
lexia, it is also understood that there will be differences in the nature and extent
of these in individual children. For that reason, it is futile to talk of a distinctive
dyslexia pedagogy; we need to view the teaching of dyslexic children within a
framework that incorporates specialized knowledge of the child together with
the application of a range of teaching principles and learning approaches.
It is also noted in this chapter that the conceptual understanding of dyslexia
may be a matter of some controversy, particularly in relation to the identifica-
tion criteria. The notion of focusing on the ‘barriers to learning’ may be a more
helpful way of identifying and planning intervention. In relation to the under-
lying conceptual framework of this book, it is suggested in this chapter that
the pedagogical approaches for dyslexia are essentially ‘adaptations of com-
mon teaching approaches’ and these adaptations can vary in density depend-
ing on individual needs. This, as indicated in Chapter 1 of this book, can have
significant implications for inclusive practices.
Summary
Nature of the group

• There is ongoing debate about the nature of dyslexia, regarding differences
between dyslexic and garden variety readers, and identification models.
• Potential confusion underlines the need for specialized knowledge.
• A causal modelling framework (biological, cognitive, behavioural interacting
with environment) is needed as the basis for considering pedagogic issues.
Pedagogy
• Many teaching approaches are claimed to be successful for this group – these
are usually bottom-up programmes.
Dyslexia 147
• Underlying principles can be found in other teaching programmes for other

children – when applied to this group it is question of intensity.
• There are difficulties in evaluating pedagogical approaches.
• The quality of teaching, resources and training is also important.
Curriculum
• Not addressed as relevant.
Knowledge
• There is a need for approaches that include specialized knowledge about the
child and the condition, despite confusion about the nature of dyslexia.
Individual versus general differences as pedagogic base

• There is support for the unique differences position. General teaching principles
are informed through a specialized knowledge base; there is no ‘alternative
classroom pedagogy’.

• The BPS definition of dyslexia blurs the distinction between dyslexic and other
poor readers, leading to support for the unique differences position.
• Analysis of different approaches: individualized, support approaches, assisted
learning and whole school approaches
• Individualized approaches can be seen as adopting the general differences
position, though this is not justified.
• Focussing on barriers to learning is useful for identifying and planning
intervention.
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Dyspraxia
Madeleine Portwood
Introduction
For decades, the development of language and literacy skills has been a focal
issue of the teaching profession. The acquisition of these skills is measured as
an indicator of ‘good teaching’ even in children with significant special edu-
cational needs. However, not all educational practice is developed from
research-based theory. The idea that teachers teach and children learn is a
curriculum model that has not acknowledged many studies of pedagogy and
child development and their contributions to our understanding of teaching
and learning.
Grinder (1989) notes that ‘The process of education is determined by
the process of communication’. Children with dyspraxia have difficulty
communicating, especially when there is a requirement to produce hand-
written work. The focus of this chapter is to identify the characteristics of
this neurodevelopmental disorder and review published research into the
development of language and literacy skills in children with dyspraxia to
determine whether there is evidence to support the idea that they need a
special and distinct kind of teaching or whether it is the teachers’ knowledge
of the learning difficulty that best directs strategy.
Defining the focal pupil group
Children who have problems planning and executing tasks with a motor-skill
component are evident in every classroom. They are described as having ‘per-
ceptual motor dysfunction’, ‘sensory integrative dysfunction’, ‘deficits in
attention, motor control and perception (DAMP)’, ‘developmental dyspraxia’,
‘clumsy child syndrome’ (Missiuna and Polatajko 1995). Although the
Dyspraxia 151
condition was first recognized in the early twentieth century, increasing

awareness has provided evidence that demonstrates prevalence in 5 per cent of
primary-aged schoolchildren (Gubbay 1975; Henderson and Hall 1982;
Kadjeso and Gillberg 2001). This prompted recognition by the American
Psychiatric Association (1994) and the World Health Organization of a distinct
movement-skill syndrome classified as ‘developmental coordination disorder’
(DCD). At an international consensus meeting held to debate these different
labels, the definition of DCD was accepted by researchers and clinicians
(Polatajko et al. 1995).
Diagnostic features of developmental coordination disorder
The essential feature of DCD (see DSM-IV 1994) is a marked impairment in the
development of motor coordination (criterion A). The diagnosis is made only
if this impairment significantly interferes with academic achievement or activ-
ities of daily living (criterion B). The diagnosis is made if the coordination
difficulties are not due to a general medical condition (e.g. cerebral palsy,
hemiplegia or muscular dystrophy) and the criteria are not met for pervasive
developmental disorder (criterion C). If mental retardation is present, the
motor difficulties are in excess of those usually associated with it (criterion D).
The manifestations of this disorder vary with age and development. For
example, younger children may display clumsiness and delays in achieving
development motor milestones (e.g. walking, crawling, sitting, tying shoe-
laces, buttoning shirts, zipping trousers). Older children may display difficul-
ties with the motor aspects of assembling puzzles, building models, playing
ball and printing or writing.
Associated features and disorders

Problems commonly associated with DCD include delays in other non-motor
milestones; associated disorders may include phonological disorder and
expressive language disorder. The prevalence of DCD has been estimated to be
as high as 6 per cent for children in the age range of five to eleven years.
Recognition of DCD usually occurs when the child first attempts such tasks as
running, holding a knife and fork, buttoning clothes or playing ball games. Its
progression is variable. In some cases, lack of coordination continues through
adolescence and adulthood.
Differential diagnosis
DCD must be distinguished from motor impairments that are due to a general
medical condition (see Chapter 8). Problems in coordination may be associ-
ated with specific neurological disorders (e.g. cerebral palsy, progressive
lesions of the cerebellum), but in these cases, there is definite neural damage
and abnormal findings on neurological examination. If mental retardation is
present, DCD can be diagnosed only if the motor difficulties are in excess of
those usually associated with the mental retardation. A diagnosis of DCD is

not given if the criteria are met for a pervasive developmental disorder. Indi-
viduals with attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder may fall, bump into
things or knock things over, but this is usually due to distractibility and impul-
siveness rather than to a motor impairment. If criteria for both disorders are
met, both diagnoses can be given.
Summary of diagnostic criteria for DCD

A Performance in daily activities that require motor coordination is substan-
tially below that expected given the person’s chronological age and meas-
ured intelligence. This may be manifested by marked delays in achieving
motor milestones (e.g. walking, crawling, sitting), dropping things, ‘clum-
siness’, poor performance in sports or poor handwriting.
B The disturbance in criterion A significantly interferes with academic
achievement or activities of daily living.
C The disturbance is not due to a general medical condition (e.g. cerebral
palsy, hemiplegia or muscular dystrophy) and does not meet criteria for a
pervasive developmental disorder.
D If mental retardation is present, the motor difficulties are in excess of those
usually associated with it.
DCD and co-occurring neurodevelopmental disorders
Although childhood developmental disorders are classified into discrete cat-

egories, in many cases children display the characteristics of several: co-
morbidity is widespread (Dewey et al. 2000). Research evidence suggests that
between 50 and 80 per cent of children with a diagnosis meet the criteria for at
least two disorders (Biederman et al. 1990). Children with coordination dif-
ficulties commonly have other conditions, such as attention deficit/
hyperactivity disorder (AD/HD; see Chapter 10), dyslexia (see Chapter 11) and
speech and language impairments (see Chapter 8; COT/NAPOT 2003).
Substantive research connecting dyslexia with deficits in motor skills was
published by Duffy and Geschwind (1985). Denckla et al. (1985) reported that
dyslexic children showed impaired development in tests relating to speed of
movement, balance and coordination.
The acquisition of motor skills, more specifically the ‘automaticity of motor
development’, has been the focus of much research undertaken by Fawcett and
Nicolson since the early 1990s. They discovered that children with dyslexia
put more effort into ‘planning’ sequential movements when compared with
‘controls’ matched for age and ability. Further research showed a relation-
ship between deficits in motor skills and speed of articulation and processing
of sound sequences in children and adults with dyslexia (Fawcett and Nicolson
1999).
Wolff (1999) also links impaired motor skills with language delay. In
this study of dyslexic children 90 per cent of those with motor coordination
Dyspraxia 153
deficits also had motor speech deficits measured by a task involving repetitious
syllable production. He concludes: ‘the detailed analysis of co-articulation in
speech production may be one pathway by which impaired timing precision
in motor action impinges on reading and writing deficits in Developmental
Dyslexia’.
Ramus et al. (2003), reporting on a study into motor control and phonology
in dyslexic children, suggest that part of the discrepancy in their motor skills is
due to dyslexic individuals who had the additional disorders AD/HD and
DCD. The purpose of this study was to attempt to replicate the findings of
Fawcett and Nicolson: that dyslexic children are impaired on a range of tasks
involving manual dexterity, balance, coordination and that motor dysfunc-
tion might be the cause of dyslexia. Wimmer et al. (1998) suggested that the
presence of AD/HD in any study sample of dyslexic children would account for
the variance in the percentage of individuals identified with coordination dif-
ficulties. Kaplan et al. (1998) reported that 63 per cent of the dyslexic children
in their study also had DCD. Research involving more than 600 school-aged
children with dyspraxia indicated that there was a co-occurrence with dyslexia
in more than 50 per cent of those studied (Portwood 1999, 2000).
Silver (1992) and Dewey et al. (2000) reported that many children with
generalized learning difficulties display DCD. Kaplan et al. (2000) reported
Canadian research showing that 58 per cent of the sample of children with
AD/HD displayed reading disabilities and 27 per cent of these children
with AD/HD had DCD. Moreover, 82 per cent of the children with DCD dis-
played some other co-morbid disorder. They conclude by stating: ‘this research
suggests that the co-morbidity of developmental disorders appears to be the
rule rather than the exception’. In addition, Gillberg and colleagues have
described autistic features, behavioural problems and depression/anxiety
as co-occurring with DCD (Klin et al. 1995; Gillberg 1998; Rasmussen and
Gillberg 2000).
Do studies of DCD consider that it is an homogeneous group?
The literature describing DCD includes wide-ranging terminology and criteria.

Sugden and Keogh (1990) found that the characteristics of children diagnosed
with DCD depended upon the source of referral, the professional background
of the assessor and the type of assessment used.
Interpretation of the literature on DCD is further compounded by the lack of
inclusion criteria. Geuze et al. (2001) reviewed 164 publications on the study of
DCD and found that only 60 per cent were based on objective criteria, as there
is no ‘generally accepted’ level of motor proficiency (Sugden and Keogh 1990)
to define clumsiness. As a result, Geuze et al. (2001) recommended that a child
scoring below the fifteenth percentile on standardized tests of motor skill
(Henderson and Sugden 1992) and having an IQ score above 69 (Wechsler
Intelligence Scales) would qualify for a diagnosis of DCD. Missiuna (1996)
concludes that all children with DCD have some impairment of motor skill, in
the absence of other physical and intellectual disorders. However, they are
certainly not an homogenous group: ‘this is why many treatment methods

have been largely ineffectual’.
DCD and associated learning difficulties

Support is given to children with DCD who have difficulties accessing the
curriculum but provision shows great variation between settings, which is
unsurprising, given this lack of homogeneity. Learning difficulties and DCD
may be caused by the same underlying mechanism; learning difficulties may
coexist in some children who have DCD; or learning difficulties may develop
as secondary complications when a child has DCD.
Learning difficulties and DCD

Although the literature in this area is inconclusive, children with DCD appear
to experience a particular cluster of learning difficulties described as ‘non-
verbal learning disabilities’ (NLD), and intervention should address the
academic difficulties that a child is actually experiencing (Missiuna 1996).
Rourke (1989, 1995) described two types of learning difficulty: individuals
with a basic phonological processing disorder (BPPD) who were assessed as
having lower verbal than performance IQs and those characterized as having
non-verbal learning disability (NLD) had lower performance IQs. NLD was
characterized by evidence of poor performance on tasks requiring visual-
spatial organisation together with poor psycho-motor, tactile perceptual and
conceptual skills and abilities.
Rourke et al. (1986) compared the performances of children identified with
NLD and a group of adults who on assessment using the Wechsler Scales had
greater verbal IQ than performance IQ. The patterns of age-related perform-
ances of the adults and children identified through neuropsychometric
assessment were almost identical. Portwood (1999) replicated the results
obtained by Rourke (1995) in a study of UK children aged three to 16.
In younger pupils verbal scores are generally within the average range, but
the non-verbal (performance) sub-test scores show difficulties in the per-
ceptual component: geometric design, block design and mazes. Difficulties
with perception persisted in older pupils (coding, block design) and additional
problems were found with short-term memory. The pattern of strengths and
weaknesses, it can be argued, gives some insight into the children’s learning
difficulties (Rourke 1998). Such knowledge could provide the ‘key to effective
teaching strategies’.
Translating this information into classroom behaviour, the child struggles to
achieve a perceptual understanding of mathematics. Spatial and perceptual
problems make abstract thinking difficult. This has a profound effect on organ-
izational skills. Maintaining attention and translating thoughts into actions
are also problematic. The combination of perceptual and motor-planning
difficulties makes handwriting very difficult, a factor that impacts greatly
on the communication of ideas. Children with DCD rely heavily on language
to supplement their learning. However, it is suggested that 82 per cent of
Dyspraxia 155
teacher-communicated information is non-verbal (Grinder 1989). This

impacts greatly on children with non-verbal learning disabilities.
Ozols and Rourke (1988) suggested that children with NLD, besides having a
particular configuration of academic learning difficulties, also exhibit severe
psychosocial disturbance, which becomes more evident over time: children
with the NLD profile are usually described by parents as emotionally or
behaviourally disturbed. In contrast, children with dyslexia are identified
with behavioural difficulties at a much lower frequency (Rourke et al. 1986). A
screening of 69 juveniles (aged from 15 years 2 months to 16 years 11 months)
at Deerbolt Young Offenders Institute (Portwood 1999), where inmates were
assessed using the Weschler Intelligence Scales for Children III, identified:
• 13 young people with generalized learning difficulties (19 per cent);
• 41 young people with coordination and non-verbal learning difficulties
(dyspraxia) (61 per cent);
• 19 of these (41) young people also had symptoms of dyslexia, suggesting
that the co-occurrence of dyslexia and dyspraxia in this sample was 46 per
cent;
• 34 young people had a reading ability of nine years or less (52 per cent).
It seems evident from this study that young offenders are more likely to have
NLD than to have other specific learning difficulties. However, are these emo-
tional and behavioural problems characteristic of the DCD profile, or the result
of a social/educational system that fails to meet their needs? Children with
DCD may develop secondary complications (Missiuna 2003).
Identifying the child in the classroom
There is a wealth of information listing the problems faced by children with

DCD in the nursery school environment. The Dyspraxia Foundation leaflet
‘Dyspraxia in Primary/Secondary Schools’ describes these observed behaviours:
• high levels of motor activity;
• delayed acquisition of language;
• problems with tasks involving a perceptual component;
• immature social skills;
• literal use of language;
• poor listening skills;
• handwriting difficulties with both style and speed;
• poor visual and auditory memory;
• poor organizational skills;
• poor body posture and difficulties coordinating movement.
Do observed behaviours inform strategy?
Strategies are specific techniques for solving problems and there are many
different strategies. Working forward to reach a solution or backward from an
assumed solution are strategies. Which strategy is more efficient depends on

the nature of the problem (Williams 1986).
The ‘strategies’ to support the dyspraxic/DCD child summarized below are
presented in numerous publications (Ripley et al. 1997; Portwood 1999; Kirby
and Drew 2002; Dyspraxia Foundation, www. dyspraxiafoundation. org.uk):
• Seating should be comfortable, ensuring that the child is able to rest both
feet flat on the floor and maintain an upright posture.
• The desk should be at elbow height with a facility to use a sloping surface for
reading.
• The child should be able to view the teacher without turning round.
• Attach paper to the desk to avoid the necessity of having to hold it in
position.
• Use paper that matches the child’s handwriting difficulties:
(a) Widely spaced lines for a child who writes very large.
(b) Raised, lined paper for a child who has trouble writing within the lines.
(c) Graph paper for a child whose writing is too large or improperly
spaced.
(d) Graph paper with large squares for a child who has trouble keeping
numbers aligned in mathematics.
• Try to reduce the amount of handwriting required.
• Teach children specific handwriting strategies that encourage them to print
or write letters in a consistent manner. Use thin magic markers or pencil
grips if they seem to help the child to improve pencil grasp or to reduce
pencil pressure on the page.
• Focus on the target of the activity: judge content rather than presentation.
• Explore alternate methods of recording, e.g. drawings, mind maps, tape
recorder.
• Break down activities into small achievable targets.
• Repeat verbal instructions and reinforce with a visual cue.
• Provide opportunities for the child to access a higher level of adult support.
• Give praise and positive feedback.
• Allow extra time for the completion of a task.
These listed recommendations provide little direction for teachers to help
them to understand the underlying principles of a strategy supposedly
directed to extend the child’s thinking and learning.
To achieve this, it is important to identify a relationship between the par-
ticular neurological pattern of non-verbal learning difficulties evident in chil-
dren with DCD and their learning style. However, there is also considerable
overlap with the presenting behaviours associated with other neurodevelop-
mental disorders, which will necessarily affect teaching and learning. So, while
a neurodevelopmental profile supports the notion that children with DCD can
be categorized into a specific special educational needs sub-group, effective
teaching strategies could apply equally to groups of learners classified by learn-
ing style. An example would be to consider gender ratios in this ‘specific’
group. The pedagogic needs of boys and the requirement of the National
Dyspraxia 157
Curriculum with particular regard to literacy have raised many concerns

among educationalists.
Many children with DCD exhibit competencies in language tasks, particu-
larly poetry (Portwood 2000). Indeed, it is an area in which they can excel if
the teacher is able to find a means of overcoming the speed of information
processing difficulties, handwriting problems and distractibility when there
are additional factors, such as sound or movement in the classroom.
In one learning environment, Jonathan, aged six, had work differentiated to
‘meet the needs’ of the lower set of eight pupils (six boys, two girls) with
behavioural/learning difficulties in a Year 2 class. He spent much of his time
under the table seeking his broken pencil and making ‘clicking’ noises. His
concentration on written tasks was described as less than 30 seconds. However,
it was acknowledged that his verbal skills could be improved if he could
remain focused. He had a measured reading age of 12+ years.
The following term Jonathan changed schools and was allowed, through
negotiation with the class teacher, to sit in the cupboard at the side of the
classroom (door open) when he needed to write. He was unable to use lined
paper. To sequence his thoughts, he preferred to draw boxes and write his
sentences inside them. When describing the structure for his poem, he said,
‘I knew that if I made five marks down and wrote on either side, that would
give me six lines. I did it four times because I wanted to write four verses.’
Jonathan was six years seven months old when he wrote ‘Once upon a winter-
time’. It was word-processed by his teacher, and displayed, with the original
alongside, on the classroom wall (Figure 12.1).
Returning to the discussion paper produced by HMI (2000: para. 23), there
are obvious concerns about the teaching of boys: ‘There is clearly no simple
answer to the challenge how to raise the achievement of boys – especially in
writing.’ Reference is then made to the HMCI (1999) report: ‘Boys respond
particularly well to direct interactive teaching. There are important implica-
tions here for raising their achievement.’ Clearly the suggestion is that boys
need distinct kinds of teaching strategies and as they comprise the greater
proportion of pupils identified with learning and behavioural difficulties, pub-
lished research should inform the decisions and actions of teachers working
with all groups of pupils with SEN.
However, in published literature on SEN-specific pedagogy for pupils with
DCD, there is very little empirical evidence to support the persistent claims
that specialist teaching improves learning outcomes. Many currently used
interventions have not been experimentally evaluated. While there is evi-
dence of improved reading scores and reductions in excitability in children
who have accessed a range of motor-skill interventions, few make comparisons
with randomized controls. Good intentions do not necessarily ensure good
outcomes (Fitz-Gibbon 2000). Many studies reporting the effects of specific
educational interventions are based on subjective impressions and informal
observations. This does not, however, suggest that change/improvement has
not occurred, but objective research is necessary.
An explanation as to the lack of empirical data on studies of educational
interventions was suggested by Prideaux (2002). Well controlled, randomized
trials are difficult because ‘while randomisation is theoretically possible in

educational research, it is often not feasible or justifiable. A second issue is the
control of variables. The intervention itself may be variable. The process of
education depends on the context and a myriad of factors including facilities
and resources, teacher and student maturation, individual expectation and
institutional ethos affect the process.’ Despite the absence of empirical evi-
dence relating to studies of children with DCD, it is still possible to comment
as to whether a system (school/teaching) should be adapted to meet their
individual needs, or whether they, as a specific SEN group, should adapt to a
system.
Children with DCD generally have a preferred learning style but, with the
majority having co-occurring disorders, they will also display unique differ-
ences. In the classroom, it is difficult to meet the needs of all the pupils all of
the time, but there can be an accommodation of individual differences as was
the case with Jonathan; he was not alone in requiring a distraction-free
environment for part of the school day.
The awareness of DCD in the teaching profession is relatively new, when
compared with other learning difficulties. There are now numerous research
projects being carried out in the UK, Holland, Sweden, Australia, Canada and
the USA, but it may be some time before there is sufficient substantive evi-
dence supporting a specific pedagogical approach. Targets within the National
Curriculum apply to pupils with DCD but there should be some accommoda-
tion regarding the completion of the task (this allows for problems with speed
of information processing) and the method of communication, i.e. is it
possible to give a verbal rather than handwritten response?
Currently the support given to children in this specific SEN group is
dependent upon the teacher’s knowledge and understanding of the associ-
ated learning difficulties. The children are therefore most likely to access
teaching from within the continuum of common teaching strategies, which
apply to all learners. With increasing awareness of the visual/perceptual and
organizational problems experienced by these children, teachers would be
able to assume the general (group) differences position and utilize specific
teaching strategies in the classroom to accommodate this defined group of
learners.
Barnhart et al. (2003) specify that the directions for research into DCD
should include determining:
• the most appropriate level of intervention intensity;
• which interventions provide results that generalize to the environment;
• the effect environmental adaptations have on performance;
• whether improved motor skills lead to improved learning and, if so, the
process involved that leads to the improvement.
Education is a discipline that is rich in theory. One of the functions of this
theory is to make predictions about outcomes that can be tested empirically.
With DCD, there clearly is a need to research the effects of educational inter-
ventions, but the research must be designed so that the findings can be truly
ascribed to the strategy (Prideaux 2002).
Dyspraxia 159
Figure 12.1 A poem by Jonathan, aged 6 years 7 months

Dyspraxia 161
Summary
Nature of the group

• Varied terms are used to describe the group; DCD is the favoured one.
• Some reflect overlaps with other areas of difficulties, or are associated with other
difficulties (dyslexia and AD/HD are the rule rather than the exception).
• DCD differential diagnosis is in terms of a specific difficulty relative to age and
cognitive abilities that impacts on school learning, not general medical condition.
If mental retardation is present, motor difficulties are in excess of this.
• DCD is not a homogeneous group; there is great variation within the group,
linked to why many interventions are not effective.
• DCD is associated with non-verbal learning disabilities (NLD), where verbal
abilities are significantly greater than performance abilities.
• The author’s work confirms these US findings about DCD-associated learning
difficulties.
• NLD is also found to be associated with severe psycho-social disturbance, and
the author’s work confirms this.
Pedagogy
• One approach translates the DCD performance profile into implications for
pedagogy.
• Teaching approaches for DCD/dyspraxia are recommended, which is in line with
the general differences position, but these strategies could equally apply to
other children with other kinds of difficulties.
• As more boys than girls have DCD/dyspraxia, it may be relevant to consider
teaching approaches relevant to gender-based pedagogic strategies.
• Some children with DCD have competencies in language area, and this can be
built on.
Curriculum
• Not covered.
Knowledge
• It is implied that teachers need to understand the underlying principles of any
teaching strategy they adopt.
• Knowledge should be based on understanding of the DCD/dyspraxia condition,
e.g. visual, perceptual and organizational problems.

• There is little research that supports DCD/dyspraxix specific pedagogy.
• Most recommended interventions have not been experimentally evaluated.
• Most reports of interventions are based on subjective impressions and informal
observations.
• This supports the unique difference position – teaching draws on a continuum of

common teaching strategies.

• The significance of an underlying cluster of learning difficulties defined in terms
of the pattern of cognitive strengths/difficulties (NLD).
• The significance of potential areas of strength in DCD. The language area has
relevance to the teaching approach.
• Support for the unique difference position and teaching strategies being a mat-
ter of degree along a continuum of common strategies. This may change with
further evaluation studies to indicate a general differences position.
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Social, emotional
and behavioural
difficulties
Tim O’Brien
In this chapter I consider existing research regarding pedagogy and learners

who experience social and emotional and behavioural difficulties (SEBD) and
relate this to my research into teacher constructions of pedagogy in settings for
learners who experience SEBD. My intention is to consider empirical evidence
regarding pedagogy for this learner group. I propose that pedagogy is funda-
mentally ideational and thus its psychological construction is prior to
pedagogic application (O’Brien 2001). I also propose that a person’s individual
disposition – cognitive, social and emotional – creates sensitivity to different
aspects of the pedagogic environment (O’Brien 2000). Thus, learners may
experience SEBD because they find themselves in situations that they perceive
as intolerable.
This chapter mainly considers whether teachers construct pedagogy differ-
ently for learners who experience SEBD and for learners who are not identified
as experiencing SEBD. When the term ‘construction of pedagogy’ is used it
refers to psychological construction (Kelly 1955), not organizational design.
The term ‘learners who experience SEBD’ is used throughout the chapter in
order to avoid within-child deficit labelling, to place a focus on learning, to
highlight alterability of learning need and to indicate that SEBDs are socially
constructed through interaction between a learner and their environment.
SEBD has replaced the previous category that was applied to learners who
experience emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) (DfES 2001). Both
descriptors are used in this chapter in keeping with how they are applied in the
literature that is referenced.
Social, emotional and behavioural difficulties 167
Navigation and destination
The ontological vagueness and fragility of the categories EBD and SEBD limits
the potential for the analysis of whether pedagogy for this group is, or can be,
specialized. EBD and SEBD can be conceptualized as constructs that are cultur-
ally defined and redefined by understandings that are shared or contested by
different groups in different locations and contexts. This has implications for
identifying and understanding how teachers construct pedagogy for learners
who experience SEBD in mainstream and special settings as well as how
they construct it for learners who are not categorized by these descriptors. It
also has implications for how teachers conceptualize a relational connection
between social factors and their interaction with emotional and behavioural
factors and its influence upon pedagogical construction. The orienting
nature of the categories SEBD and EBD make it a complex task to discover if
there is a pedagogy that is specific or specialized to individuals within this
group.
Most UK government definitions identify EBD, and latterly SEBD, as existing
along a continuum ranging from short-term reactive difficulties, which pro-
duce degrees of disruptive and challenging behaviour, to serious mental health
problems (DfE 1994; DfES 2001). This is supported by literature in the field
(Weare 2000; Atkinson and Hornby 2002). Defining EBD is further problem-
atized because of the historical and cultural perceptions and assumptions
inherent in, or implied by, the terms used to describe learners who experience
EBD. Examples of the variety of terms include ‘maladjustment’ (Laslett 1983),
a reference to deviation from a perceived consensus regarding social norms
requiring modes of intervention with aims related to social, emotional and
educational readjustment. Other terms include ‘troubled’ (Bennathan 1992;
Cambone 1994), often referring to unhappiness and failure in personal and
social relationships, and ‘conduct disordered’ (Loeber and Keenan 1994;
Mandel 1997). Medical descriptors such as ‘disturbed’ are still prevalent and
relate to biologically based perspectives for understanding EBD, which imply
that causation relates to neurological and neurochemical dysfunction (Rutter
and Taylor 2002).
Thomas and Loxley (2001) propose that the EBD label has a powerful sub-
text regarding child defiance. This conveniently distracts thinking away from
pedagogical processes on to individual learner deficit. To be pedagogically
relevant at this level the label should aim to explain emotional and
behavioural difficulties in relation to the individual disposition of a person in
the context of the environment in which they learn at a particular time
(O’Brien 2002). The label should direct thinking towards pedagogy, not per-
ceived treatment of pathology. However, EBD is a generic descriptor of dif-
ficulty and the term SEBD simply highlights additional social dimensions from
a generic positioning. Pedagogically it softens rather than sharpens focus: it
creates further distance from individuality. The terms EBD and SEBD are gen-
eralized umbrella terms that point in the direction of particular outcomes.
They take the teacher on a conceptual pedagogical journey that is navigated
via group-referenced thinking. The generalized nature of these terms does not
support the teacher in constructing or applying pedagogy that is particular to

individuality within the SEBD label.
Defining SEBD is also complex because the process of defining involves
exclusionary thinking: generating meaning about what something is by estab-
lishing what it is not. This process influences provision and raises tensions
between pedagogical and therapeutic practice for this group – dichotomised as
a ‘teaching’ versus ‘treatment’ debate based upon interpretations of the onto-
logical nature of SEBDs. Multiple conditions and multiple factors can create
the context for a learner being described as experiencing SEBD. Therefore,
SEBD, however it is defined, is likely to be a descriptor that indicates intercon-
nections with other areas of special educational needs (SEN). This is critical in
considering whether a specialized pedagogy exists for this group, or for indi-
viduals within the group. It highlights the limitations of the SEBD label and
also offers insight into tensions that are inherent in the application of general-
ized special educational needs labelling to particular groups. Such a process
results in labels – and related short- and long-term social and educational
processes and goals – that contain limited meaning when they are applied to
individuals. Therefore, ‘SEBD’, like the term ‘inclusion’, becomes a navigating
term related to broad processes and goals but does not focus upon individual-
ized factors in order to direct pedagogical decisions to meet additional need.
Nor does it provide clarity of focus upon pedagogical processes that may
become exclusionary for particular individuals. One proposition for promot-
ing a greater pedagogical focus upon individual need is to conceptualize
learning difficulties as emanating from an interaction between psychological,
biological and social factors (Norwich 1990). The psycho-bio-social model,
with its opportunity to build on the strengths of each model (Blamires 2001),
could be a more effective way of moving beyond group-referenced navigation
in order to meet additional individual pedagogical needs. It provides an
interactional approach and combats the tendency to over-individualize the
causation of difficulty.
Pedagogy and SEBD
Identifying a pedagogical approach for individuals who experience SEBD that

is supported by empirical research is problematic because of the limited avail-
ability of empirically generated and validated writing about pedagogy and
SEBD – especially by practitioners. The literature regarding pedagogy and SEBD
includes value positioning, practice-focused strategies and case studies. These
are based upon theoretical and sometimes pragmatic models that relate to the
distinct nature of the SEBD group and often include behavioural and cogni-
tive–behavioural interventions. Thankfully, the literature has helped teachers
to move on in complexity beyond Laslett’s (1983) four-stage model for teach-
ing maladjusted pupils: get them in, get on with it, get on with them, get them
out. The emphasis in the literature tends to be upon the ‘how’ of teaching
rather than the ‘why’, the ‘why’ being an area for this group of learners where
there is a dearth of empirical evidence and thus areas of beneficial pedagogical
practice may remain unknown (Cooper 1999; Simpson 1999). Whether bene-
ficial practice incorporates specialized pedagogy remains unknown too. The
teacher who works with learners who experience SEBD is assumed to need to
develop particular practical skills and to be able to implement behaviourally
oriented interventions. There is also an assumed need to enhance the
emotional development of learners and to develop personal qualities, such as
resilience, due to the lack of compliance that they encounter from learners
(Thacker et al. 2002). Research illustrates that teachers view personal and pro-
fessional characteristics as being key to successful intervention for learners
who experience EBD (Garner 1999). I challenge the complexity-made-simple
approach that is prevalent in some SEBD literature. This assumes that there is a
need for the teacher to focus on quick-fix, on-your-feet strategies for managing
behaviour rather than analysing the formulation of their own constructions of
pedagogy and the epistemological orientations, dominant discourses and
ideologies and taken-for-granted explanatory frameworks that influence
formulation. I propose that you cannot have the former without the latter.
Researching constructions of pedagogy
Much of the literature in the SEBD field relates to the application rather than
the construction of pedagogy. As stated at the outset, my assumption is that
construction of pedagogy influences application. A logical proposition from
this standpoint is that if there is a specialized pedagogy for learners who
experience SEBD, relevant aspects of its origins might be gained through elicit-
ing personal constructs relating to how teachers construct pedagogy for this
group in comparison to other learners. I shall now highlight some findings
from a research study that I conducted that elicited and analysed construc-
tions of pedagogy for learners who experience EBD (O’Brien 2003). The cri-
terion for the selection of participants for the study was that they currently
worked in EBD settings and were qualified teachers who had two years’ or
more experience of mainstream education and two years’ or more experience
of special education in an EBD setting. In the study they use mainstream teach-
ing as a reference point for making meaning out of teaching in an EBD setting.
The ontological orientation of the study was realist, the epistemological orien-
tation was constructivist and the theoretical perspective was premised upon
the phenomenological proposition that human feelings and thoughts present
to consciousness and thus it is possible to gain insight into how humans con-
struct reality. Insight was gained through a series of in-depth semi-structured
interviews (Kvale 1996). While theoretical propositions generated in the study
do not purport to contain explanatory power beyond the study, they do
illuminate where further research might identify areas for inquiry relating to
whether there is a specialized pedagogy for learners who experience SEBD.
In the study, teachers constructed pedagogy through a preferred learner-
centred pedagogical route in an EBD setting. By ‘pedagogical route’ I am refer-
ring to the conceptual starting point that teachers use when constructing
pedagogy. The focus of pedagogic thinking and curricular decisions in a
learner-centred route is learner need. A curriculum-centred route, where cur-

riculum need is the starting point of construction, was seen to produce con-
texts in which curriculum coverage and delivery, rather than individual need,
influenced teaching approaches. This route was seen to be more prevalent in a
mainstream setting. I do not wish to dichotomize these ‘routes’ as inevitably
they do interact with each other – it is the starting point for pedagogic routes
that I wish to emphasize. In an EBD setting, with learner need as a conceptual
starting point, teachers adopted a pedagogy that was dialogic, placing an
emphasis upon intersubjectivity. Knowledge was conceptualized as participa-
tory rather than acquired (Sfard 1998). This epistemic stance was assumed to
support those who were coming to terms with previous failure and who might
resent teacher intervention. In an EBD setting fewer assumptions were made
than in a mainstream setting about how learners acquire and apply know-
ledge, learner disposition and temperament, the pace at which learning takes
place and the nature of the life experiences of learners. Fewer assumptions led
to a greater consideration of adaptation, producing a prioritized focus upon
emotional (rather than cognitive) processes and goals.
Joyce et al. (1997) propose that pedagogical models, whether they are direct-
ive or non-directive, always have ‘nurturant’ and ‘instructional’ dimensions.
Nurturant factors aim at increasing the emotional health and growth of indi-
viduals through pedagogy that reduces anxiety, improves relationships and
develops self-worth. Instructional factors aim to provide increased cognitive
performance related to particular aspects of curriculum knowledge. Presum-
ably, nurturant and instructional factors vary in different settings. In this
study nurturant factors were given higher priority than instructional factors
when teachers constructed pedagogy for individuals within the EBD group.
This was seen as a necessary response to learner characteristics. Teachers also
emphasized that the small scale of the school community (class and school
size) in a specialist setting enabled their pedagogy to become more nurturant
and learner-focused and to influence school aims and development.
Pedagogical knowledge within EBD settings could be conceptualized as
anti-foundational and constantly evolving.
The style of pedagogy that teachers adopted for learners who experience
EBD was flexible, interactive and mediatory. This is consistent with the
research of Cole et al. (1998) and Daniels et al. (1999). In the research of Cole
et al. (1999), involving the application of an expansive model of pedagogy
(Engestrom et al. 1999), it was noted that in relation to EBD in mainstream
schools, discourse among teachers about relationships and identity was sub-
sumed by instructional discourse about curriculum content. This was not so in
my study. Regulative discourse, about the emotional, social, cognitive and
behavioural needs of the learners, was central to constructing pedagogy. The
needs of the learners were not submerged by the need to deliver the curricu-
lum. Regulative discourse was also central to the construction, circulation
and interpretation of community-based knowledge (Wenger 1998; Anderson
1999). Fundamentally, pedagogy was based upon the interaction between the
mind of the teacher and the mind of the learner, with emotional difficulties
taken into account. Premised upon intersubjectivity, teachers adopted a
pedagogical style that actively responded to the needs of the EBD group. It is a
different style from one in which the teacher is the locus of epistemic power
and where pedagogy is based upon strict subject/object formulations. This
results in a didactic model of broadcast and reception (O’Brien and Guiney
2001).
Difference makes a difference
Pedagogy in an EBD setting was also constructed through a greater focus upon
individual difference than in a mainstream setting. Construction of difference
depends upon commonality as difference is generated according to implied
structures of sameness. Difference can be constructed differently within differ-
ent frameworks. It could exist within a framework where difference points to
variability along a continuum: differences of degree. It could also refer to var-
iety within particular categories: differences of kind. Identifying difference can
be seen as emancipatory or discriminatory. In relating teacher constructions to
a conceptual framework I shall refer to the unique and general differences
position (Lewis and Norwich 2000).
All teachers in the study adopted a general (group) differences perspective
when constructing pedagogy. Teachers referenced majority, minority and
individual needs: common, exceptional/distinct and individual needs
(Norwich 1996). Most began by foregrounding distinct group-based needs. A
small proportion of teachers adopted a lower order interpretation by fore-
grounding distinct needs and recognizing individual needs without making
reference to common needs. This variant within a general differences perspec-
tive illuminates how a sub-group can be potentially outgrouped or stereotyped
by conceptual reference to unique needs within the distinct group but not to
commonality. There are implications when pedagogic inclusion is conceptual-
ized from this positioning. The EBD category was relevant to the construction
of pedagogy and pedagogic decision-making for every teacher in the study.
This suggests that it may be possible to ascertain whether pedagogy for learn-
ers who experience SEBD is specialized or not, by detailing the specificity of
constructions within the foregrounding of distinct needs and then relating
these to pedagogic decisions. One assumption that underpins such a view is
that it is both valuable and possible to identify similarities between learners in
the SEBD group, and differences between those learners and learners in other
groups and sub-groups, and to associate this identification with a pedagogic
need for specialized teaching. Further research that engages with the social
reality of those who are involved in the construction of pedagogy for such
learners could offer insight into whether this assumption is valid.
Regarding inclusion in education, due to pragmatics rather than political
ideology, specialist provision for the SEBD group is still seen as being required
(Cole et al. 2003). The adoption of a differences position regarding learners
who experience SEBD raises further questions about their inclusion. Does
highlighting the distinct needs of the SEBD group require increased adaptation
or stratification of additional provision? If so, institutional disposition will
have to alter if it is to authenticate and accommodate individual disposition

through pedagogic inclusion as well as placement inclusion. A focus upon
placement and space may consider minority group representation and distri-
bution but the erroneous assumption is that it will meet individual need.
A focus upon pedagogic inclusion can do this by enabling broad common
goals and principles for all to be pursued in different ways within associated
systems – including different curriculum content for some that is not
necessarily required by all (O’Brien and Guiney 2004).
Being-with
Another theme, which emerged from data analysis, I refer to as ‘being-with’. It

relates to teacher adaptation to the EBD context and offers insight into an
ontological focus upon ‘being’ (existence and experience), rather than ‘doing’
(observable practice and competencies). Figure 13.1 is a visual data network
(Miles and Huberman 1994) that is a composite for all the teachers in the study
in relation to this theme. The network illustrates relationships within and
between theme-related phenomena. I shall select two dimensions of this
theme in order to raise questions about constructions of pedagogy for learners
who experience SEBD that illuminate positioning on difference and issues
regarding pedagogic specialisation.
Teachers referred to the differences between a mainstream and an EBD
context, such as increased unpredictability, vulnerability, changeability,
variability of need and intensity in the latter. These are identified as features
relating to learner characteristics (LC). Teacher characteristics (TC) were
perceived as being context-responsive too. This included increased levels of
tension and anxiety when compared to teaching in a mainstream setting. The
two dimensions of ‘being-with’ that I discuss briefly are ‘self’ and ‘fear’.
‘Self’ and ‘other’

When referring to self I mean an alterable self that can be strengthened or
fragmented by context and culture, rather than an absolutist universal self.
Teachers in this study claim that the EBD context brings the teacher more in
touch with who they are as a person as well as who they are as a teacher.
Teacher experiences were processed subjectively and provided particular forms
of feedback to consciousness that caused teachers to ask questions about their
own concept of self and personal/professional identity. Identity was a key
factor in the construction and application of pedagogy in an EBD setting and
seen to be less so in a mainstream setting. I am not conceptualizing identity in
terms of an externally created and validated construct of professional identity.
I conceptualize it in relation to a complex and reflexive process that is respon-
sive to a teacher’s day-to-day and minute-by-minute self-witnessing and self-
referential thinking and experience. Creation of identity is contextual (Gergen
1991). It is also mediated by context. Grasping and grappling with notions of
‘self’ and ‘other’, in a context that can include hostile, aggressive and chaotic
Figure 13.1 Being-with (LC, learner characteristics; TC, teacher characteristics)
presentations, was at the core of the meaning-making process that influenced

intentional action by teachers towards learners in an EBD setting. As one
teacher states, ‘In mainstream, I never let myself be who I was . . . in EBD, the
teacher has to be who they are.’
The social, emotional and cognitive characteristics of the learners were seen
to make teaching much riskier than in the mainstream. The ontological secur-
ity of teacher self was fundamentally at risk too. Vulnerability moved beyond
self into other as teachers reflected upon the insecurity of the learners and the
environment. Data analysis highlighted that an emotionally painful dialectic
can take place between self and other in an EBD setting. Bragan (1996) posits
that self, when engaging with other – especially when the other encounters
difficulties with reciprocity – becomes polarized. There are two poles of self: a
‘mirroring’ pole that relates to our need to be affirmed for our achievements
and for what we do and an ‘idealizing’ pole that enables us to gain strength
from feeling a sense of belonging. Poles of self are particularly under threat, for
both parties, when interaction between self and other results in feelings of
weakness and aimlessness and of not being in charge. The impact for pedagogy
is clear. Teacher and learner concepts of self become open to fragmentation,
deconstruction or, at worst, demolition. The prospect of mutual self-collapse,
in such an energy sapping and potentially emotionally and physically threat-
ening environment, becomes possible. This impacts upon pedagogy when
emotional difficulties can cause teacher–learner interactions to be processed as
challenges to the authentication of self and being. Pedagogy can become
premised upon survival and containment, and a psychoanalytic interpretation
would propose that teacher superego has to be controlled in this context so
that feelings of revenge and retribution, or the desire to moralize and blame,
are contained.
Freire (1997) proposes that one reason why pedagogy and educational
programmes fail to connect with learners, especially those who encounter
learning difficulties, is that education is formulated as:
Education by A upon B
The self-referenced reality of the educators is axiomatic in this formulation,

while the reality of those being educated is ignored. He proposes that
‘co-intentional education’ is more productive in improving learning. In the
context that I am describing this would be formulated otherwise:
Education by A (teacher) [self] with B (learners) [other]
In order to create a co-intentional pedagogy, in response to group differences,

teachers in this study grappled with concepts of ‘self’ and ‘other’ in a way, or
at a degree of intensity, of which they were not aware when teaching in a
mainstream setting.
Being with fear

Teachers in the study described being more anxious in an EBD setting than
they were in a mainstream setting. For many, anxiety over time became fear:
fear of unwanted and threatening challenges to teacher as person as well as to
teacher as teacher. Some talked of the fear of losing self-control and fear of the
collapse of expected teaching norms that can result in learners trying to take
control of the classroom. The existence or intensity of this fear was not seen to
be present in a mainstream setting and the management of fear was perceived
as being relevant to the construction of pedagogy in an EBD setting. Some
teachers proposed that for the teacher, perhaps like the learner, there might
also be a fear of being able to admit that you are frightened. One teacher
explained:
teaching in an EBD school you deal with an unspeakable fear . . . a fear
that relationships or lessons that you have put so much into can break
down, go pear-shaped . . . fall apart in seconds. Fear affects what you do,
but most people don’t talk about it.
The experience of fear may be a stress-related reaction. However, fear also
related to moments when teachers felt a sense of worthlessness in a context
where powerlessness replaced power and where learners overturned the
planned and ethically justifiable actions of the teacher. The fundamental
values, beliefs, assumptions and skills of the teacher are under threat. This type
of fear could be more connected to existential angst and dread (Heidegger
1968). Some teachers identified this fear-driven response producing a peda-
gogy that was focused upon containment of learners and survival of teachers.
Fear was also identified as a learner-referenced characteristic. Not only do
teachers confront their own fear but they also have to confront fear as a char-
acteristic of those whom they teach, particularly in relation to fear of learning
and fear of proximity within relationships. The acknowledgement, accept-
ance, holding and managing or transcendence of fear – both teacher and
learner fear – was an influential factor in constructing pedagogy for teachers in
EBD settings in this study. The sense of vulnerability of self and the experience
of fear may not be particular to EBD settings – the proposition is that they are
experienced differently in an EBD setting compared with a mainstream set-
ting. The difference is a matter of degree because, in relation to the personal
and emotional aspects of teaching in EBD settings, the process is amplified and
the intensity of the experience occurs at a higher or deeper level.
Concluding comments
SEBD and EBD function as generalized umbrella concepts that are relevant in
all aspects of teaching. They serve legislative, political, resource-driven and
bureaucratic purposes but in themselves they do not possess sufficient mean-
ing for teachers to make pedagogic decisions at a level of individuality. While
they raise important questions about the goals of education for learners who
experience SEBD they only serve a general orienting pedagogic purpose. This
chapter has navigated within the territory of specialized pedagogy for learners
who experience SEBD, highlighting the role of learner-centredness, co-
intentionality and the prioritizing of emotional goals in constructions of
pedagogy in one research study. It has indicated that teachers in this study do
construct pedagogy differently for learners who experience SEBD through a
typified concept of group disposition. Pedagogic adaptation is relevant too
because construction of pedagogy is prior, context-responsive and informs
practice. The chapter may seem to assert the ultimate importance of a general
(group) differences position. Instead, I propose that a central concept in con-
structing pedagogy in this study was the existence of a continuum of con-
structs across settings – as illuminated by the theme ‘being-with’. Moreover,
the intensity of subjective experience and amplification of emotional pro-
cesses were not qualitatively different between mainstream and EBD settings.
What is critical is that they are different in relation to the degree to which they
are processed, experienced and understood. This highlights the importance of
a unique differences position and illuminates how a difference of degree is
determinate in the construction and application of pedagogy for this learner
group.
Summary
Nature of the group

• EBD and SEBD has within-child deficit labelling implications: the preferred
phrase is ‘experiencing SEBD’.
• These categories are fragile and vague and function only as orienting concepts.
Pedagogy
• Pedagogy is treated as a construction, which is seen to be prior to and
influencing of application/practice.
• The general nature of SEBD/EBD does not support the construction or application
of a pedagogy that can relate to individual need.
• There are limited empirical bases about SEBD and pedagogy. The literature is
value positioning, case studies and practice focused.
• It is assumed that teachers of children with SEBD need particular practical skills,
behaviourally oriented.
• The chapter reports the study of constructions of teaching in EBD and
mainstream settings.
• In EBD settings, the learner-centred route (more flexible, interactive, mediatory,
nurturant) is used, as opposed to curriculum-centred/instructional in
mainstream settings.
• Teachers in the study adopted a general difference position, foregrounding
distinct group needs.
• The theme of ‘being-with’ emerged from constructions of EBD settings focusing
on two dimensions.
• Regarding self and others, teachers need to be in touch with who they are as
persons and as teachers: co-intentional pedagogy. The pedagogic relation is self
with other, not self on other.
• Being with fear means anxiety in EBD settings, fear of losing control.
Curriculum
• It is assumed that teaching aims to enhance emotional development/personal
qualities: SEBD raises questions about educational goals, but only in an orienting
way.
Knowledge
• This is not covered but the author does discuss the epistemological position,
with knowledge conceptualized as intersubjective, participatory and anti-
foundational.

• All teachers in the study seemed to adopt a general differences position but this
is interpreted in terms of a unique differences position.

• Quick fix strategies are critiqued for managing behaviour in this field, and not on
the basis of a pedagogy.
• SEBD serves legislative and administrative purposes, not pedagogic ones.
• The central construct in the study of pedagogic constructions was the con-
tinuum of constructs across emotional and behavioural difficulties and non-EBD
settings.
• In the being-with theme, the intensity of experience and amplification of
process are not qualitatively different across settings, but a matter of degree.
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Moderate learning difficulties
Felicity Fletcher-Campbell
Introduction
There is some evidence that the cohort broadly categorized as pupils ‘with
moderate learning difficulties’ represents the largest within the totality of
students ‘with special educational needs’, although, unlike in other European
countries (see, for example, OECD 2001), data with respect to different cat-
egories of need are not presently available within England on a national level –
though data will emerge with the accumulation of Pupil-Level Annual
Schools Census data. Quantification is often possible at the level of the local
educational authority but definitional problems abound, as discussed below,
so that the mere application of a category may give only a broad indication of
need. Similarly, a crude quantification of places at schools nominally for
pupils with moderate learning difficulties is unreliable because there is case
study evidence that these schools educate pupils with a wide range of levels of
ability and additional needs (see, for example, Lee and Wright 2001).
Definition: to whom are we referring?
The question remains as to whether quantification is of any value given the

definition problems surrounding ‘moderate learning difficulties’. Quantifica-
tion might indicate the degree of the issue, where there is to be evidence that
special pedagogies apply to this cohort, but if, as studies suggest, there are
so many variable profiles within the cohort nominally referred to as ‘with
moderate learning difficulties’, this value diminishes.
Williams’s (1993) review of the integration of pupils with moderate learning
difficulties a decade ago encountered problems of definition and used the
earlier description of Buckland and Croll (1987). Very broadly, these pupils
Moderate learning difficulties 181
were distinguished from their peers with severe learning difficulties by the fact
that their needs were identified at school: that is, once they had engaged upon
formal, structured learning and been exposed to the regular curriculum it
became clear that they had the relatively greater difficulty in learning that
defines a special educational need. (The needs of pupils with severe learning
difficulties in the UK are normally identified and assessed via health routes
prior to the child registering at school.) Williams (1993) points out that pupils
with moderate learning difficulties are distinguishable from those whose
needs are identified through ‘sensory, physical or behavioural considerations’
and that their difficulties are general rather than specific to a curriculum
area. While these descriptions help us to ‘label’ a pupil as ‘having moderate
learning difficulties’ – rather than something else – they do not give any
indication of intervention or of where on the continuum between ‘average
ability’ and ‘severe learning difficulty’ any different pedagogy might be
deployed.
Using an IQ score range as a criterion produces a clear definition according
to one parameter but ignores the nature of individual profiles, in which range
of learning difficulty and extent of other special educational needs (Crowther
et al. 1998) are critical. Moderate learning difficulties are increasingly associ-
ated with other special educational needs; indeed, one of the challenges for
those who teach these pupils is to identify the profile of need and, in particu-
lar, to understand the interrelationship of the different ‘sources’ of difficulty.
From case studies, Johnston (1998) points out that ‘deficiencies in cognition,
memory and language, short attention span, inadequate achievement, social
skills deficits and emotional problems’ collectively characterize both students
who are diagnosed as having mild/moderate learning difficulties and those
who are ‘at risk’ on account of contextual features such as low socio-economic
status (see also Williams 1993). This has implications for the evaluation of
interventions: Johnston suggests that interventions for students with mild–
moderate learning difficulties should be interdisciplinary and focused on
prevention.
At a mundane level, the label ‘moderate learning difficulties’ elicits
responses different from those elicited by ‘autistic spectrum disorders’ or
‘specific learning difficulties’ categories that are treated elsewhere in this
volume (see Chapters 9 and 11 respectively). It is not insignificant that pupils
with moderate learning difficulties were considered one of the ‘easiest’ groups
to integrate; as an indication of the changes in perception about the integra-
tion of this group of pupils, see Williams (1993). This is not a little to do with
perceptions of needs and of appropriate responses to those needs. Most
teachers feel able to accommodate pupils with moderate learning difficulties
in their classroom because they recognize the nature of their difficulties (slow-
ness of response, difficulties in recognizing similar concepts, for example) in a
way that they may not recognize the rather ‘different’ difficulties of a pupil
with specific learning difficulties or autistic spectrum disorders whose percep-
tions of the world and that being presented in the classroom or in school are
very different (because there is evidence that their cognitive responses are
different). It may be that there have been advances in this respect so that the
child with autistic spectrum disorders is no longer shrugged off as ‘eccentric’ or

the one with dyspraxia as ‘lazy’. None the less, teachers can feel in control of
the situation vis-à-vis a pupil with moderate learning difficulties because their
perception is that they have a good idea, from general teaching skills, of how
to address these difficulties. These pupils are similar to other low achievers
who have not been identified as having special educational needs. Dyson et al.
(1994) commented that this group has tended to have been exposed to general
intervention strategies and argued for a reconceptualization of educational
interventions in order to deconstruct the general categorical responses that
take minimal account of individual profiles of need (see also Chapter 15 in this
volume). This is in line with the approach of Skrtic (1999), who considers that
teachers should respond to unique learning needs rather than categories.
Intervention
The question remains – as originally posed by Lewis and Norwich (2001) – as to

the uniqueness of responses. The thinking behind this question is not new.
Fish (1989) addressed the question of ‘what is special education?’ over a decade
ago, suggesting that it be located in a framework of ‘dimensions’ and perceiv-
ing it as fluid, logically dependent on ‘ordinary’ education and ‘special’ insofar
as it required resources additional to those generally available. Fish’s frame-
work offers a means of describing ‘special education’ – something which he
perceived to be done inadequately within other parameters such as location or
pupil grouping. The main ‘dimensions’ that he considers are the curriculum
(and differentiation within this, which can include selective involvement,
various types of support to ensure full access, modification and additional
objectives), ‘contact type’ (which includes how the differentiated curriculum
is delivered; for example, in a segregated setting, via consultation or collabora-
tive teaching), ‘time intensity’, which assesses the intensity and duration of
interventions, and environment. Other dimensions include those of technol-
ogy, type of knowledge and parental involvement. Arguably, these dimensions
are contingent and, conceptually, could have been designed differently. Some
are independent, while others seem to cluster. However, their value is the way
in which they challenge assumptions about provision. For example, should
interventions necessarily be ‘intensive’ in a ‘segregated’ environment (small
classes in a special school, for example) or should pupils in special schools
sometimes learn in much larger than normal groups even if the outcomes of
this may be unpredictable. What is the relationship between ‘intensity’ of
teaching (one pupil having to concentrate on his or her own for an hour a
week) and ‘drip-feed’ exposure to a mathematical process in a regular class
setting twice a day for five days a week?
Aubrey (1995: 25), albeit discussing providing for all learning difficulties,
calls for ‘more and better teaching . . . more time and more high quality forms
of instruction, which is teacher intensive, more deliberate in planning and
tighter in its methods of monitoring and reviewing’. In some ways, this con-
tention is disquieting, for it suggests that what may be needed is more a
refocusing/re-enlivening of teacher skills and attention to good management,

which may, perhaps, have been neglected, rather than anything qualitatively
new. While evidence from pupils is qualitative, telling us about their emo-
tional response to various interventions, rather than quantitative, specifying
actual progress made, it nevertheless suggests something of the contrast
between situations where the pupil feels that his or her needs are being met and
those where they are not. It is worth noting that when pupils are interviewed
about differences between educational placements and/or teachers, they fre-
quently comment to the effect that a particular special education teacher or
assistant ‘explains things’ or ‘does not shout at you’, or that they prefer learning
in a small group because help is more readily available: that is, they are contrast-
ing their preferred placement with another situation, the characteristics of
which are contingent rather than inevitable. This again raises questions about
whether the pedagogy is different per se or whether it is delivered in a package
more amenable to the recipients in ‘social’ terms. There is no evidence that the
delivery is affected by categories of location – what is important is the ethos
within that location. This can have a more theoretical basis as it resonates with
the emphasis, in inclusive schools, on ‘ethos’ and strong interpersonal relation-
ships not only among students but between students and adults.
Students with moderate (and severe) learning difficulties are customarily
regarded as needing a ‘small steps’ curriculum (see, for example, Fletcher-
Campbell and Lee 1996), in which the focus is on the presentation of the
content (using scaffolding, for example). However, the literature suggests
that this, alone, is inadequate and, if the sole approach, may be unhelpful.
Goddard (1997: 170) offers a critique of a curriculum purely based on a
behavioural model as being ‘reductionalist, adopting a step-by-step approach
to learning and embracing a product ideology’. He sees a danger in individual
education plans encouraging this approach and points out that ‘although
[students] are learning small tasks, their overall functioning is not appreciably
improving in school or life’. Goddard favours a process model that allows for
problem-solving and interaction (see also the work of Nind and Hewett (1988,
1994) with respect to work for pupils with severe learning difficulties).
While differentiation is widely accepted as the critical approach to providing
for pupils with any type of need, and, arguably, is expected of all teachers in
England under the criteria required for Qualified Teacher Status, this does not
get us very far. Studies (e.g. Stradling et al. 1992) give a descriptive account of
good practice but do not link that practice to individual profiles of need or give
clear accounts of how decisions are made in the light of needs. For example,
Spillman’s (1995) ‘differentiation checklist’ embraces the whole range of
teaching strategies and approaches – including the use of resources, question-
ing techniques, use of language and cooperative pupil work – suggesting that
differentiation involves the whole craft of teaching and the whole of teachers’
modi operandi. Similarly, in the UK there has emerged a fairly extensive litera-
ture on classroom management but this is not always related to particular
strategies within that framework. The literature advocates attention to:
• student groupings (Spillman 1995; Lewis and Norwich 2001);

• the use of support assistants (Aubrey 1995; Lewis and Norwich 2001);
• applied behaviour analysis techniques to allow appropriate target-setting,
the reinforcement of desired response and the elimination of undesired
responses (Aubrey 1995);
• strategies for teaching basic skills (Aubrey 1995; Fletcher-Campbell 2000);
• individual programmes based on Vygotskian analysis (Aubrey 1995).
However, again, all this happens in a context and begs the question of the
effective learning environment; Hegarty (2001) makes the point that criteria
for effective special education closely resemble criteria for effective general
education.
Specific approaches for which there is offered a rationale related to pupils’
cognitive processes are rare and, interestingly, often located in subject special-
ist journals and aimed at teachers in general, rather than in the general special
education literature and aimed at pupils with learning difficulties. One such
example is the discussion of ways of helping children to acquire a concept of
number via visual aids (Clausen-May 2003). Brooks (2002), reviewing the
available British research on intervention schemes designed to raise the read-
ing attainment of lower-achieving but non-dyslexic pupils in Years 1–4, con-
cluded that ‘normal schooling’ (i.e. no particular intervention) does not allow
slow readers to catch up and that other factors, such as self-esteem, may be
influential. Again, this gives credence to a focus on ‘ethos’, which is related to
location of intervention rather than the ‘content’ (or pedagogy) of the inter-
vention. The latter is also related to Fish’s argument that the whole learning
environment and the profile of intervention must be discussed. Other points
that emerged from Brooks’s review are related to very obvious ‘management’
issues: interventions are only effective if they are highly targeted and accom-
panied by appropriate staff training and support. Interestingly, there was evi-
dence that most of the literacy interventions reviewed were effective for pupils
with moderate learning difficulties but not for those with severe learning
difficulties, suggesting that there are pedagogical reasons for distinguishing
between these two groups.
Within Europe, a study (of which the primary school phase has been pub-
lished (Meijer 2001) and the secondary school phase is in preparation) gave
similar evidence that there is a dearth of detailed pedagogic studies in relation
to teaching pupils with learning difficulties. However, there was broad agree-
ment that a clutch of strategies was widely used throughout European class-
rooms. All these were generic: cooperative teaching, cooperative learning,
individual planning, collaborative problem-solving and heterogeneous pupil
grouping (see literature review in Meijer 2001).
It may be that the trend in the inclusion literature towards considering the
social mileau and ensuring inclusivity in all aspects of school life (the
approach is epitomized in CSIE (2002), a document that has been translated
into other languages and is widely used internationally) is limited. There needs
to be an integration of this literature with that of the highly individualized
pupil-level studies that are part of the US ‘psychological’ tradition, which, in
its own way, is limited in that it tends to neglect the wider learning context.
One way of addressing the issue of special pedagogies or, at least, effective
provision – which, clearly, may or may not be the same thing – would be to
look at different effects/outcomes of different provisions. It is interesting that,
in the UK, there have been few studies comparing provision for a particular
profile of need in different settings. Exceptions are studies that follow pupils
between institutions (for example, Bennett and Cass 1988; Thomas et al. 1997)
but these do not study provision in parallel so that they cannot look at com-
parable progress in the different environments and, arguably, pupil needs may
change at key transfer/transition points anyway and so the same profile may
not be presenting itself in the different environments. Ofsted (1993) studied
about 300 lessons involving pupils with moderate learning difficulties, half of
these in special schools and half in mainstream schools. While the study repre-
sents a rather different policy context from that of today (for example, it noted
the greater curricular opportunities for pupils in mainstream schools at a time
when the National Curriculum was not fully operational in special schools),
the findings are transferable insofar as HMI found better progress where the
general learning environment was favourable. There was minimal reference to
‘special pedagogy’. For example:
Where pupils were taught by teachers interested in them and with work
prepared to meet their needs, they were secure, confident, well behaved
and achieved encouraging standards. If low ability groups were taught by
specialist with neither expertise or insight into special educational needs
and the work was not planned or matched to their needs, the quality of
their work was poor and achievements were minimal
Overall, integrated pupils did not always show a gain in academic
standards achieved. Where they did the gain often reflected higher
expectations in terms of both pace and achievement and also access later
to examination courses with some notable successes.
(Ofsted 1993: paras 35, 42)
Outcome studies generally are not definitive and different studies have oppos-
ing findings. A decade ago, Williams (1993) contended that reviewers agreed
that there was no appreciable difference between the academic achievements
of integrated and segregated pupils, although US studies tend to suggest
advantage for placement in a regular class but with individual attention.
Again, this begs the question of what the ‘individual attention’ looked like.
Crowther et al.’s (1998) review, which informed a UK study on costs and out-
comes of provision for pupils with moderate learning difficulties, relied heav-
ily on US literature, which they found did not withstand scrutiny in terms of
methodological rigour (e.g. small and ‘impure’ samples and invalid compar-
isons). There is negligible literature giving evidence on the long-term efficacy
of interventions, although Brooks (2002) found that literacy interventions
generally maintained their effect. The available studies are uninformative
about the effects of pedagogy (Farrell 2000 questions much of the inclusion
debate in terms of pupil progress). Data are lacking and relate outcomes to
economic realities. For example, Hornby and Kidd (2001) followed up students
with moderate learning difficulties whom they originally studied ten years
previously (Kidd and Hornby 1993). There is also a relevant series of Scottish
studies (Riddell et al. 1997, 1998, 1999; Baron et al. 1999).
The study of Lamb et al. (1997) is unusual within the literature, focusing as it
does on a specific intervention designed to promote the communication skills
of a group of pupils with moderate learning difficulties on the grounds that
these skills would then equip them to approach their learning more effectively.
Notable is its aim to encourage a particular strategy rather than task practice.
The study was small and highly focused, so it could hardly be deemed a ‘special
pedagogy’. Nevertheless, the interventions were at a strategic level and the
principles of, and rationale for, the study are worth considering, particularly as
the outcomes were encouraging: ‘By the end of the intervention the children
were talking more, responding to ambiguous instructions more effectively and
asking more appropriate types of question’ (Lamb et al. 1997: 273).
That individualized learning can inhibit interactive learning, which is a vital
part of any learning, has been highlighted in specific studies (e.g. Goddard
1997). However, this is closely related to general, rather than special, pedagogy
and is, furthermore, not new. For example, in the seminal study following the
implementation of the Education Act 1981, Croll and Moses (1985) found that
group work was effective, and Carpenter (1997) points out that individual work
does not have to be ‘isolated’. As greater understanding of the benefits of small
group work and interactive learning has developed in response to the National
Curriculum, so has understanding of providing for individual needs within
group learning situations in both special and mainstream schools; that is, with
different ‘baselines’ of ability (Watson 1999). This is something that was,
oddly, largely ignored in the initial articles following the implementation of
the National Curriculum in special schools: Costley (1996), for example, con-
siders the appropriateness of the content of the National Curriculum for pupils
with moderate learning difficulties rather than its pedagogic opportunities.
It is interesting that pupils’ views on the pedagogy offered to them are rarely
sought – or, more accurately, reported in the literature. Norwich and Kelly
(2004) and Fletcher-Campbell (forthcoming) are exceptions: both pieces of
research found that pupils were generally positive about their present situ-
ation. However, they differed in that, where pupils were able to compare their
experiences in special and in mainstream schools, a significant minority of
those in special schools interviewed by Norwich and Kelly preferred the main-
stream setting while in Fletcher-Campbell’s work, albeit in a different edu-
cational system, they preferred the special school setting. Clearly, further
work needs to take place to extract exactly what pupils prefer in different
settings and whether, first, these preferences can be reproduced in other con-
texts and, second, they enhance their learning, broadly understood (see also
Chapter 13).
Conclusions
How is the cohort of students regarded as having moderate learning

difficulties positioned within Lewis and Norwich’s framework? It is somewhat
disappointing that the literature is non-committal rather than confirmatory.

There is evidence that:
• This group of learners can follow a programme of work broadly similar to
their age-peers: for example, they have access to written language, can
record their own work in conventional ways, can manipulate numeric
symbols.
• This group of learners can follow a common programme without particular
technical aids: for example, the benefits of drafting work on a computer will
be qualitatively similar to the benefits for other pupils in an age-related
teaching group.
• Differentiation for these learners as a group rests on focusing on earlier
stages of the learning path which their peers have travelled rather than
traversing a different path. Thus, these learners will have less complex texts
and tasks, and be required to engage in more straightforward analysis of
situations (for example, in history) than their peers.
• These pupils do not need a supplementary curriculum (unlike, for example,
those needing mobility training; see Chapter 3) unless they have associated
learning difficulties in another area.
• These pupils, as a group, are rarely discussed in terms of benefiting from
other specific therapies, interventions or medication even if these may
benefit individual pupils within the group and the group may benefit to a
similar extent to any group of age-related peers.
Differentiation at the level of the individual will be similar in nature: that is, in
a group of pupils with moderate learning difficulties, there will be different
profiles of attainment within areas of the curriculum (e.g. numeracy, literacy)
and also within an individual learner (so one pupil’s mathematical skills may
be in advance of his or her reading skills), but this is exactly the same as for any
group of learners of any ability. There is no evidence, for example, that, as a
group, all will find the same task or skill difficult, or all will be similarly delayed
because of their particular experience of the world.
In essence, their careers are similar but delayed (as, indeed, some may have
been diagnosed as having ‘developmental delay’) and ceilings will look the
same as for other pupils but will be lower. However, this is very much a presen-
tation of the accepted way of working with this group and available descrip-
tions of it: and it is a way within which, certainly, many have thrived. The
literature does not yield a corpus of recorded research evidence of radically
different approaches to the formal education of this cohort: for example, start-
ing formal education at a later age, and hence delaying the demand to acquire
reading skills (a well designed comparative study would be useful here), or a
meticulously controlled environment so that ‘failure’ in literacy was never
experienced. That these pupils seem to benefit from smaller classes, more indi-
vidual attention and a slower pace of learning may be largely because these
conditions may be preferable to those obtaining in a regular classroom, and it
does not necessarily mean that they could not learn as effectively by other
means: for example, by being taught by a distinctive approach within a large
group.
At present, there is no evidence for particular learning characteristics –

other than a very generalized difficulty – for this group. It is not unlikely
that the difference among the group in terms of learning styles, preferences
and abilities is greater than the generalized difficulty that they have in
common. Whether the particular label of moderate learning difficulties is
attributed for administrative convenience (related to resource allocation)
rather than for a type of provision is debatable. This is not to deny that the
label forms a recognizable group but, once initial recognition is made or
membership of the group identified (for example, by response to an artifice
such as an intelligence test), it is not, on present evidence, clear what further
purpose the label serves. For if designation is related to resource allocation,
there is the prior question of what resources need allocating and in what
form (recall the contention that allocation to a set ‘provision’ is inadequate
if the nature of that provision is assumed rather than crafted on the evi-
dence of its effectiveness with respect to particular learners: Fish 1989, for
example). If the group name thus serves no useful function, arguably, and,
again, returning to Lewis and Norwich’s framework, there seems to be no
role for the dimension of a pedagogy for the group, then interventions are
properly made with respect to the individual. While this raises questions
about the conditions that best support such interventions, it does not pre-
determine the way in which these conditions may be produced. There is,
thus, a challenge to all those educating pupils regarded as having moderate
learning difficulties.
Summary
Nature of the group

• There are many definitional problems – the category gives only a broad indica-
tion of need.
• So many variables profiles are found in the group that no special pedagogies can
be identified.
• The group is mainly identified during schooling, has general rather than specific
difficulties and is associated with other difficulties, and it is hard to differentiate
between MLD and the at-risk group.
Pedagogy
• There are calls for more intensive and deliberate teaching for this group.
• Pedagogy is not affected by location, and has more to do with the ethos in the
location.
• There is a dearth of detailed pedagogic studies; outcome studies are not
definitive.
• Where there are studies, they point to generic strategies useful for others
without MLD.
Curriculum
• The group is usually seen as needing a small steps curriculum.
• Some argue that this is inadequate alone, and there is also a also need for prob-
lem-solving and interaction.
• The group can follow similar programmes without aids to non-MLD group;
there is no need for a supplementary curriculum.
• Differentiation is focused on earlier stages of the learning path, not different
paths.
Knowledge
• Not addressed.

• Supportive of the unique differences position.

• The inclusion literature focuses on ethos/milieu, and this needs integrating with
a pupil-level studies approach.
• It is not clear what the purpose of the category is. If it has no pedagogic function,
what future has it?
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Low attainment
Alan Dyson and Peter Hick
Who are the ‘low attainers’?
Most education systems operate with the notion that there is a group of
learners whose progress and attainments cause concern but whose apparent
difficulties cannot be explained in terms of any evident impairment or under-
lying condition. This group may not be categorized separately at all, but may
be seen simply as part of the ‘natural’ continuum of attainments. There may be
no special provisions in terms of funding arrangements, assessments and
curricular or pedagogical approaches, and their teachers may teach them in
much the same way as all other learners, though with less success. Elsewhere,
a category is constructed that enables special provisions to be made, but
that is clearly differentiated from the categories of special education. In the
USA, for instance, such learners might be regarded as being ‘at-risk’ for
educational failure (Franklin 1994), while in the Russian Federation they
might fall into the ‘compensatory’ category (Beverton 2003). Elsewhere
again – England being a prime example of this – such learners may fall
within the ambit of special education, but special education may itself be
defined in extremely wide terms so that it encompasses almost any learner
who has difficulty in schooling (see, for instance, Gulliford 1971; DES
1978).
Even these categorizations prove to be extremely fluid. Not only are boun-
daries between ‘low attainers’, ‘average attainers’ and students with ‘special
educational needs’ difficult to define, but the categories themselves shift over
time. Franklin (1994), for instance, traces what he calls the move ‘from back-
wardness to at-risk’ in the USA as educators have struggled to categorize and
recategorize children who do poorly in the education system. In England
recently, large numbers of these children have (in principle at least) been
removed from the special education system as a new ‘code of practice’ (DfES
Low attainment 193
2001) has effectively abolished the lowest level of special educational need. In
its place, a primary national strategy has developed a series of ‘wave two’ inter-
ventions for children who need more than the good classroom teaching of
‘wave one’ but do not need the special educational interventions of ‘wave
three’ (DfES 2003). Interestingly, across the border in Scotland, almost the
reverse direction is being taken as moves are being made to develop a super-
category of ‘additional support needs’. This seems likely to extend beyond a
special educational needs category that is as broadly defined as England’s and
to encompass a wide range of what we are here calling ‘low attainers’ (Scottish
Executive 2003).
This fluidity is not surprising. The defining characteristics of low attainers
actually define very little. First, there is some evidence that the numbers and
type of learners who do poorly vary from system to system (OECD 2001). They
also change over time. The Scottish School Leavers Survey (Biggart 2000; SCRE
2000), to take just one example, traces how the proportion of boys failing to
achieve the major national qualifications fell continuously in Scotland from
40 to 20 per cent between 1978 and 1996. At the same time, the proportion of
girls, starting from a similar base line, fell to only 12 per cent. The assumption
has, presumably, to be that changes in and differences between education
systems or in societies more generally produce such differences in population.
Second, what counts as ‘doing poorly’ varies likewise across systems and across
time. As the Scottish example illustrates, the cut-off point may well be deter-
mined by the grades of a particular assessment or accreditation system,
particularly in countries where grade-retention systems or (particularly at
the current time) ‘standards-based reform’ and ‘high-stakes testing’ create
hard-and-fast distinctions between success and failure.
Finally, even if the boundaries of a low-attaining group could be agreed,
there is no reason to suppose that the members of the group share much in
common beyond their low attainment. As anyone who has taught a ‘low
attainers’ group knows, such groups frequently contain learners with a wide
range of difficulties, not to mention those who appear to have no difficulty
beyond a rejection of school and all that it entails. This, however, begs a huge
question. If low attainers are so diverse as a group and if the category to which
they are allocated is so fluid and variable, what explanation(s) can be offered
for their poor educational outcomes and what sorts of interventions are neces-
sary to bring about improvement? This question is made all the more difficult
to answer by the absence of any defining impairment or condition. Whereas
for other special educational needs categories there tend to be defining charac-
teristics that exist outside the educational context, ‘low attainment’ is by
definition an educational construct. Imputing shared non-educational charac-
teristics to individuals within the low-attaining group is problematic and, even
if it can be done, the relationship between those characteristics and low
attainment may be far from clear.
This is particularly the case regarding the question of whether there is a
‘distinctive’ pedagogy for this group. Given the fluidity and diversity of the
category, it is difficult to see how any single pedagogy could emerge as the
most appropriate or most effective, other than in a very provisional and
context-specific sense. Moreover, even within a narrow contextual framework,

competing explanations of why learners do poorly would be likely to lead to
very different pedagogies with very different objectives. Finally, some of these
explanations might lead to interventions that are not pedagogical at all. They
might, for instance, point to the nature of the curriculum, or the culture of
schooling, or the family, community and social conditions within which
learners live and argue for interventions in these spheres rather than in peda-
gogy per se.
In this context, any attempt to address the questions on which this book is
focused has to consider the ways in which the group has been constructed over
time, the sorts of explanations for their difficulties that have been developed
and the sorts of interventions that have consequently been seen as appropri-
ate. Given the range of such constructions and the number of education
systems within which they have emerged, to do so comprehensively and
historically would be impossible. What we propose to do, therefore, is to illus-
trate that range by reference to three approaches that are relatively clearly
defined, that are well documented and that represent significantly different
constructions. They are the ‘Low Attaining Pupils Project’ (LAPP) in England,
‘Success for All’ (SfA), which originated in the USA but has spread more widely,
and ‘Reading Recovery’, which was developed by a New Zealand researcher but
has likewise spread widely.
Constructions and responses
Reading Recovery
Reading Recovery is one of the most widely adopted and widely evaluated
programmes for low attainers. Its originator, Marie Clay, describes it as a ‘sec-
ond chance, early intervention programme’ (Clay 1993: 96) since its aim is to
identify young children as soon as they begin to experience difficulties and
provide them with an intensive intervention that will enable them to function
at the same level as their classmates.
The programme targets children who, after one year of instruction, are the
lowest attaining in literacy among their school peers. These children then
receive individual tuition from a specially trained teacher on a regular and
frequent basis (usually, daily for 30 minutes). The tuition starts with a diag-
nosis of the child’s current reading skills (with a particular emphasis on her or
his strengths) and then moves on to building those skills in line with a model
of reading development formulated by Clay. This model allows for work on
the ‘sub-skills’ of reading (phonological awareness, letter recognition, word
recognition and so on), but also encourages the child to approach text stra-
tegically and to seek to make meaning from text, whether in reading or writ-
ing. Throughout the process, the approach is highly individualized, with
careful record-keeping and individual planning on the part of the teacher.
Once the child has made sufficient progress to function at the level of their
peers (usually after 12–20 weeks), the programme is discontinued in the
Low attainment 195
expectation that the child will make progress through good quality class
teaching.
To the extent that the programme proposes an explicit model of reading
development and an equally explicit view of what teachers should do to pro-
mote that development, Reading Recovery has a clear pedagogical basis. This
pedagogical approach is indicated, inter alia, by the requirement for its
teachers to undergo specialist training. However, there are two caveats. First,
the models of reading development and teacher intervention are shared with
all learners and to that extent are not distinctive. The assumption is that more
and less fluent readers are both going through much the same processes and
struggling with much the same difficulties, though with different degrees of
success (Clay 1972, 1976). It is, therefore, simply the intensification and indi-
vidualization of support for reading development that constitutes Reading
Recovery’s distinctive thrust. Second, whether the pedagogical implications of
Reading Recovery are distinctive or not, they are narrowly focused on the
acquisition of literacy. The approach adopted by the programme has not been
developed so as to apply across the curriculum as a whole. How far it consti-
tutes a pedagogy, therefore, and how far it is simply a collection of techniques,
is a matter for debate.
This accords with the implicit model of low attainment on which the pro-
gramme is based. Although Reading Recovery is very interested in identifying
the technical difficulties that individual children experience in learning to
read, there is no attempt to generalize this into a more wide ranging theor-
etical explanation of why some children do poorly in school. There is some
evidence, for instance, that the programme is particularly effective for children
from poorer families (Sylva and Hurry 1995) and that such children constitute
the largest single group among its clientele (Douëtil 2002). However, children
are not selected on the basis of family income and the programme does not
attempt to intervene in what appears to be a risk factor for reading difficulties.
On the contrary, the programme’s basis in a universally applicable model of
reading development leads it to play down an aetiological approach to under-
standing children’s difficulties in favour of a functional one. Put simply, what-
ever the underlying causes of children’s falling behind, the reading task
remains the same and therefore the process with which the child needs to
engage and the most effective forms of support are broadly similar for all. On
this analysis, low attainment is seen as the consequence of functional failures
in particular areas of skills mastery. This is why, of course, once those skills are
mastered, the child can be expected to flourish in the ordinary classroom.
Reading Recovery is particularly significant from our point of view because it
takes its place as one of a long line of ‘remedial’ approaches to low attainment
(see, for instance, Sampson 1975; Tansley 1967; Westwood 1975, among many
others). It is certainly one of the best evaluated and most consistently effective
of such approaches and has some of the most robust theoretical and empirical
grounding. None the less, as Woods and Henderson (2002) point out, it shares
with other members of its family a resolutely individualized approach that
focuses on how individuals function in relation to very specific aspects of the
curriculum (the so-called ‘basic skills’) and advocates a somewhat technicist
approach to intervention without considering more fundamental factors that

might be implicated in low attainment.
Success for All

Success for All began as a programme of elementary school reform in the USA
premised on the notion that there is no separate pedagogy for lower attaining
students, and focusing instead on strategies for the prevention of learning
failure. Most of the schools that have participated in the SfA programme have
a majority of children living in economically disadvantaged circumstances.
The programme describes itself in the following terms:
Success for All is a comprehensive approach to restructuring elementary
schools to ensure the success of every child. The program emphasizes pre-
vention and early intervention to anticipate and solve any learning prob-
lems . . . Success for All provides schools with research-based curriculum
materials; extensive professional development in proven strategies for
instruction, assessment and classroom management; one-to-one tutoring
for primary grade children who need it; and active family support
approaches.
(Success for All Foundation 2000)
Success for All aims to prevent difficulties, particularly in reading, where
possible, or to provide intensive support at an early stage for those who
experience difficulties. An essential component is a reading curriculum that
claims to be based on research on effective practices, such as developing oral
language skills, linking phonetic approaches with meaning and cooperative
learning activities. The approach is focused on stories and children’s litera-
ture – for example, with the use of ‘big books’ and ‘shared stories’ – and
involves regular reading assessments. A range of support staff are trained to
work with teachers to allow ‘regrouping’ into smaller classes for reading,
based on children’s reading levels. A further important element of SfA is
individual ‘reading tutors’ for students who show signs of difficulty in pro-
gressing in line with their peers. Typically, this supports access to the same
curriculum activities as the rest of the class or group through additional
individual sessions.
To this extent, there are evident similarities between SfA and Reading
Recovery. However, the former differs from the latter in some important
respects. First, the approach has been extended from reading to other aspects
of the elementary school curriculum – maths, science and social science – and
into the middle years. Second, the SfA approach calls for the creation of a
‘family support team’ that aims to involve parents in the life of the school, and
offers them training in reading with their children and in managing their
behaviour. The family support team also intervenes with issues such as attend-
ance or behaviour difficulties at school to prevent problems that have their
origins in the home becoming barriers to learning. Third, and most important,
SfA is conceptualized as a whole-school restructuring programme rather than
simply as an approach to teaching this or that aspect of the curriculum.
Low attainment 197
For this reason, schools are expected to secure overwhelming support from
their staff prior to adoption, to designate a trained facilitator and to agree to
training for their teachers, while their principals are expected to participate in
‘leadership academies’.
These differences reflect a distinctive conceptualization of low attainment.
For instance, SfA’s originator, Robert Slavin, characterizes the impact of
reading failure in the following terms:
Students who have already failed in reading are likely to have an overlay
of anxiety, poor motivation, poor behaviour, low self-esteem, and inef-
fective learning strategies that are likely to interfere with learning . . . In
Success for All, the provision of research-based preschool, kindergarten,
and first-grade reading; one-to-one tutoring; and family support services
are likely to give the most at-risk students a good chance of developing
enough reading skills to remain out of special education or to perform
better in special education.
(Slavin and Madden 2001: 299)
The concept of ‘risk’ is important here, as in much American work on low

attainment. In this context, risk refers to the sorts of family, community and
wider social factors that are likely to generate early failure in school. This
failure generates the sorts of secondary effects that turn children from learners
with difficulties in some specific area to all-round low attainers. Like Reading
Recovery, SfA uses research-based strategies to overcome failure quickly or,
better still, to forestall it before the secondary effects emerge. However, the
family support component of the programme also indicates an intention to
intervene directly in the underlying risk factors. Moreover, whereas Reading
Recovery is directed towards a small number of the lowest-attaining children,
SfA is directed at the whole school on the grounds that, in ‘high poverty’ areas,
most or all children are likely to be subject to risk.
This raises questions about the extent to which Success for All is an essen-
tially pedagogical approach or, indeed, whether it contains any genuinely
pedagogical elements. It belongs to a family of approaches emerging out of the
school effectiveness and improvement movements, which have emphasized
the key role of institutional and teacher characteristics in supporting or
inhibiting children’s learning (Teddlie and Reynolds 2000). On this view, if
schools are well organized and well led and if teachers with good skills adopt
research-based approaches, low attainment can be significantly reduced or,
indeed, eradicated (see, for instance, Reynolds and Farrell 1996). This has two
implications. First, it minimizes the role that is to be played by any ‘distinctive’
pedagogies for different groups of learners. Slavin, for instance, talks about
‘neverstreaming’ (Slavin et al. 1996) – the reduction of placements in special
programmes – as a goal of SfA. He likewise plays down the differences between
the programme’s approach for learners identified as having special educational
needs and their peers:
students who have IEPs [individualized education programs] indicating

learning disabilities or related problems are typically treated the same as
other students in Success for All. That is, they receive tutoring if they need
it, participate in reading classes appropriate to their reading levels and
spend the rest of the day in age-appropriate heterogenous homerooms.
Their tutors or reading teachers are likely to be special education teachers,
but otherwise they are not treated differently.
(Slavin and Madden 2001: 299)
Second, the focus on teacher and school effectiveness to all intents and pur-
poses locates the response to low attainment outside the domain of peda-
gogy. Not only are teaching strategies only part of the SfA approach, but it is
not clear that a collection of such approaches, proven by research to ‘work’,
actually constitutes a pedagogy as such. Indeed, while similar questions arise
in respect of Reading Recovery, Success for All does not even have the
explicit model of reading development that characterizes Marie Clay’s
programme.
The Lower Attaining Pupils Programme

The Lower Attaining Pupils Programme differs from the other two pro-
grammes in being aimed at older secondary-aged learners where low
attainment and its secondary consequences are already well entrenched.
When it was launched in 1982, it was the first curriculum development
initiative in recent times to be funded directly from central government. It
grew out of government concerns with the lowest attaining 40 per cent of
secondary-aged students who were leaving school with few or no qualifica-
tions (DES 1989). The public examinations of the time (GCE O level and
CSEs) were deemed inappropriate for this group, who were therefore left
stranded in their final years of schooling with no targets to aim for and cut
adrift from an academic subject-based curriculum in which they had already
failed.
The stated aims of LAPP were:
i) to improve the educational attainments of pupils mainly in years 4 and
5 [of their secondary schooling] for whom existing examinations at 16+
are not designed and who are not benefiting fully from school;
ii) to do this by shifting their education away from narrowly-conceived or
inappropriate curricular provision and teaching styles to approaches
more suited to their needs and by giving a practical slant to much of
what is taught; to prepare them better for the satisfactions and obliga-
tions of adult life and the world of work; and to improve their
self-respect and motivation.
(DES 1986: 7)
The programme operated by directing national funding towards local educa-
tion authorities, which in turn supported initiatives in their schools. Beyond
the invitation to explore alternative, non-traditional ways of providing for
low attainers, there was little central specification of what selection criteria
schools should use to identify their target group or what, in particular, they
Low attainment 199
should do with them once identified. As HMI (the national schools inspector-
ate) found in its evaluation of LAPP, individual reasons for ‘low attainment’
can include:
Specific learning difficulties, physical handicaps, behavioural problems,

unresponsive attitudes, poor relations with one or more teachers, low
expectations by teachers and pupils, or work that is inappropriate or
poorly planned, organised and taught.
(DES 1989: 2)
In practice, therefore, a very wide range of learners was involved in the

project. Some schools, HMI reported, simply redesignated their bottom stream
or remedial class as the LAPP project group; others asked teachers to identify
pupils in their third year of secondary schooling whom they expected to
have difficulty with ‘existing external examination objectives’ (DES 1986: 6).
Typically the number of pupils identified within a school for LAPP projects was
limited by resources rather than by any more purely educational considera-
tions, though in some cases pupils of all abilities were offered the opportun-
ity to participate. Significantly, boys outnumbered girls by around two to one,
perhaps reflecting differential rates of achievement, but perhaps also reflect-
ing gender stereotyping in the range of activities typically offered. These
tended to include work experience, college placements and outdoor pursuits.
Likewise, a wide range of approaches emerged with varying degrees of
emphasis on out-of-school learning, personal and social development, prac-
tically oriented approaches to ‘academic’ subjects, vocational education and
so on. In addition, there were some LEAs where the programme focused
primarily on out-of-school centres or on particular underlying skills, such
as ‘thinking skills’ or oracy (Wootten and Haywood 1987). As LAPP developed,
moreover, the focus shifted from ‘attainment’, narrowly defined in terms of
academic qualifications, towards ‘achievement’ in a broader sense, incorporat-
ing personal and social competence. HMI concluded that: ‘There had been
significant gains in pupils’ self-esteem and in the development of personal and
social qualities, but standards in “academic” work remained disappointingly
low’ (DES 1989: 18).
To some extent, the diversity of the LAPP reflects an initial failure to theor-
ize clearly the nature and causes of low attainment. However, the common
factor throughout the programme was the assumption that there were some
learners for whom ‘traditional’ academic approaches were inappropriate. The
low attainment of this group certainly reflected their limited capacity to cope
with what schools typically had on offer. To this extent, LAPP grew out of
approaches to low-attaining students that had long been familiar in
‘remedial’ and special education (see, for instance, Schonell 1942; Tansley
and Gulliford 1960; Gulliford 1969; Brennan 1974, 1979) – approaches that
emphasized the cognitive limitations of this group and therefore the distinct-
ive nature of the provision that should be made for them. The tradition, of
course, also reaches forward to the present day, with the Westminster gov-
ernment busily engaged in promoting vocational alternatives for young
people who do badly in a curriculum that remains resolutely examinations-

oriented (DfES 2002).
However, LAPP equally grew out of a sense that low attainment was as much
the consequence of schools’ failure to break out of their ‘inappropriate curricu-
lar provision and teaching styles’ as of the limitations of low attaining students
themselves. It is but a short step from this position to one that questions the
appropriateness of what schools offer to all their students. It is no coincidence,
therefore, that at the same time that LAPP was pushing for new approaches for
low attainers, a Technical and Vocational Education Initiative (TVEI) was mak-
ing similar arguments about the narrowness of the school curriculum for all.
These arguments continue to be taken forward in England with the current
development of General National Vocational Qualifications (GNVQs) as part
of an attempt to raise the status of vocational education within the English
system (Yeomans 2002).
The extent to which LAPP embodied a distinctive pedagogy for low attainers
is, therefore, doubtful. It certainly was concerned with developing ‘teaching
styles’ that were ‘appropriate’ for low attaining students, though it is not clear
that the nature of these styles was ever fully articulated beyond a rather impre-
cise focus on the ‘practical’ and the ‘vocational’. It also seems to be the case
that the distinction between teaching style and curriculum is blurred in LAPP,
as in all similar initiatives. Whether students learn the same things as their
peers through different experiences or whether those experiences offer them
different things to learn is far from clear. Moreover, the generalization from
LAPP to critiques of the narrowness of what schools offer to all learners casts
doubt on any claims for the distinctiveness of its pedagogical approach. The
emergence of TVEI would seem to imply that LAPP was simply trailblazing a
set of alternative curricular and pedagogical approaches that had applications
well beyond the low-attaining group.
What is distinctive?
A number of conclusions can be drawn from this brief review:

• There is no single approach to provision for low-attaining students and,
therefore, even if the approaches we have examined contain pedagogical
elements, it is difficult to argue that there is a single distinctive pedagogy.
Much depends on how the group is defined, what are understood to be the
sources of their difficulties and what aspects of the curriculum are seen as
priorities.
• Approaches tend to focus on other aspects of provision as much as (if not
more than) on pedagogy. The quality of teaching, the effectiveness of the
school as an organization, the nature of the curriculum on offer and the
effectiveness of support by families all tend to figure to a greater or lesser
extent in different approaches.
• Where approaches incorporate some apparently pedagogical elements,
there are some doubts as to how far these amount to fully developed
Low attainment 201
pedagogies as such. They tend to take the form of collections of tech-

niques that have been demonstrated empirically to ‘work’ in one or other
curriculum area.
• Although approaches have been developed specifically for low-attaining
students, they tend to be generalizable to all learners. Regardless of how far
the difficulties experienced by low-attaining students are attributed to their
characteristics as a group, they certainly reflect the failure of schools to
respond adequately to those characteristics. Customized approaches, there-
fore, tend to take the form of improving in some way the quality of what the
school has on offer. This improved quality, of course, is then available to all
students.
This last point is, perhaps, central to understanding where low attainers sit
in relation to the questions that this book is seeking to address. Since this
group’s difficulties cannot be explained in terms of constitutional impair-
ments or conditions, there is no reason for assuming that they cannot learn
and be taught in much the same way as the majority of their peers. The issue,
therefore, is not whether a ‘special’ pedagogy is needed, but why it is that
‘common’ pedagogies delivered in ‘standard’ ways prove ineffective with this
group. The three programmes we have examined offer a range of (sometimes
implicit) explanations – in terms of the inappropriateness and irrelevance of
curricula, the failure of teachers to use research-based techniques, the lack of
effective family support and so on. Insofar as these programmes try to find
ways of delivering a ‘regular’ pedagogy more effectively, they lend weight to
the hypothesis with which the editors of this book started: that there is no
discernible ‘special’ pedagogy for children regarded as having special edu-
cational needs, but that common pedagogies may be delivered under special
conditions. For our three programmes, these conditions include individual
tuition, strengthened family support, intensive teaching, relevant curricular
content and so on.
However, there is no reason why the explanation of children’s difficulties
and interventions to overcome those difficulties should focus solely on what
happens in the classroom. As we have seen, Success for All addresses issues of
school leadership and organization and of family support for schooling. Other
approaches look wider still. For instance, the substantial literature on edu-
cational ‘risk’ associates low attainment not just with school, or even family
factors, but also with wider community and socio-cultural factors. The impli-
cation is that interventions have to take place across a broad front (see, for
instance, Wang et al. 1997; Balfanz 2000; Franklin, 2000). Similarly, there is an
argument among economists that low attainment is driven by, and is best
addressed through a frontal assault on, poverty (Robinson 1997). Finally, there
is a body of radical commentary that argues that low attainment is the con-
sequence of the systematic oppression of disadvantaged social groups and can
be overcome only by substantial political change. What is needed, therefore, is
a ‘pedagogy of the oppressed’ (Freire 1972) that uses the processes of teaching
and learning for explicitly political ends.
What all of this reminds us is that the learning-focused interactions between
teacher and student that we call ‘pedagogy’ are actually part of a much wider
network of educational and social processes that produce patterns of achieve-
ment and difficulty in schools. The development of special pedagogies or of
special conditions for the delivery of pedagogies may or may not have a part to
play in overcoming the difficulties experienced by other groups. However, in
the case of low attainers at least, such developments cannot be disembedded
from their wider social and educational contexts. The decision as to which
learners to regard as ‘low attainers’, where in these contexts to focus attention
and how fundamentally to tackle the processes that produce low attainment
are decisions that have an inevitably political dimension. They cannot escape
challenging or supporting a status quo that patently produces different out-
comes for different groups. What is ‘special’ about pedagogy for low attainers,
therefore, may not be that it develops technical approaches to teaching and
learning that are different from those used with other groups. Instead, it may
be this political dimension. Whether avowedly so or not, it is unavoidably a
‘pedagogy of the oppressed’.
Summary
Nature of the group

• There are questions about whether this is category relevant to special
educational needs.
• There are national differences in definition, including at-risk and additional
support needs.
• There is uncertainty about the range of what counts as SEN.
• Differences in education systems affect population differences, e.g. accreditation
systems.
• A fluid, diverse and variable group is counted as low attainers.
• Low attainment is an educational construct.
Pedagogy
• The uncertainty of the category implies that no single pedagogy could emerge.
• Differing explanations could lead to different interventions, even ones that are
not educational.
• Three well known models are examined.
• Reading Recovery has a clear pedagogic approach, but is not distinctive to the
identified group of low attainers. There is a question of intensification.
• Success for all separates pedagogy for low attainers. It has preventive aims and a
broader focus than Reading Recovery, and uses cooperative learning and
individual tutors. It focuses on family and whole school, and goes beyond
pedagogy. It aims to intervene in underlying risk factors.
• The Lower Attaining Pupils Programme (LAPP) shifts away from narrow/
inappropriate curricular provision, involves a wide range of pupils, including
those with traditional impairments, and focuses on wider achievement, rather
than on academic attainment.
Low attainment 203
Curriculum
• LAPP questions the appropriateness of traditional academic curriculum provision
in Key Stage 4, linked to vocational approaches to this group.
• Success for all involves broader non-school interventions.
Knowledge
• This is not a significant aspect of the argument in this chapter.
• Understanding of the causes of lower attainment is relevant to the kind of inter-
ventions undertaken.

• There is no single approach for lower attainers, no distinctive pedagogy. The
author inclines to a unique differences position but within a wider contextual
understanding of causes of lower attainment.
• Approaches tend to be relevant to other learners.

• Approaches for this fluid group focus on other non-pedagogic aspects of
provision school and teaching quality and effectiveness.
• Approaches also tend to focus on beyond child causes, including non-
educational interventions.
• Pedagogy is the wrong field in which to search for a response.
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Overview and discussion:
overall conclusions
Ann Lewis and Brahm Norwich
Early discussion about the nature of this book led us to place SEN-specific
categories at the heart of the book’s structure and focus. This was a direct result
of the position at which we had arrived as a result of our review concerning the
SEN specificity of teaching strategies in relation to children with learning dif-
ficulties (see Chapter 1). Interestingly, coincident with our work on this book
the DfES issued category-based guidance about identifying individual pupils
according to conventional special needs categories (including MLD) for the
purposes of government planning, studying of trends and monitoring inter-
ventions concerning special educational needs (DfES 2003). This does not
necessarily imply that those categories have relevance for teaching, although
the DfES does see the categories as having significance for planning and policy
development.
We note that although contributors to this book might have made claims for
the usefulness of other category bases, none has done so. Our centralizing of
special educational needs did not presume an acceptance of the usefulness of
those categories for the planning of teaching and the contributors have taken
contrasting positions about this.
The nature of the special educational needs groups
Defining the nature of each of the ‘SEN groups’ discussed in this book was
not straightforward. For some writers, group definitions reflected the use of
medical definitions and associated forms of causality (Down’s syndrome,
PMLD, deafness, deafblindness, visual impairment). In a sub-set of chapters
important distinctions were made between early (natal) and later onset of
Overview and discussion: overall conclusions 207
difficulties (deafblindness) and between medical contrasted with functional

definitions (visual impairment). For some, group definitions reflected present-
ing ‘symptoms’ or behaviours (ASD, PMLD, language difficulties, dyspraxia).
Environment, including social networks and systems, was a significant defin-
ing aspect of the group for writers focusing on low attainers and MLD. This is
inevitably linked with wide differences over time and place in defining such
groups, because as the context shifts, so do the perceived difficulties (or their
absence). Thus, for these groups (at least for our contributors) resolving
pedagogic issues is likely to be salient in avoiding the creation of exceptional
learning needs.
Environmental factors were seen as interacting with biological and psycho-
logical factors in defining one group (AD/HD). Less strongly, environment was
regarded as significantly mediating difficulties for those writing on autism,
Down’s syndrome, deafness, dyslexia and EBD. The implication is that for
both these sets of groups (as for those noted above for whom environment was
seen as a defining characteristic) school factors will play a significant role in
determining the extent to which such pupils are perceived to have exceptional
learning needs. This does not in itself necessarily suggest either a general or an
individual differences position.
Virtually all writers, to varying degrees, referred to the potential, or likely, co-
occurrence of difficulties (including, for some contributors, mental health
problems). This recognition of co-occurring difficulties was emphasized par-
ticularly in the chapters on ASD, dyspraxia, deafblindness, deafness, MLD,
SLD, PMLD and AD/HD. Thus it is unlikely that ‘pure’ group-specific peda-
gogical practices based on the nature of the group could be sustained. All
contributors also linked the nature of the individual group with continua of
effects or impacts on learning, implying that, even if hypothesized, group-
related pedagogic strategies would need to be applied differentially. Thus even
this position places individual needs at the centre of pedagogic decision-
making.
Conceptual framework: curriculum, pedagogy

and knowledge
The orientation of the book, set out in the introductory chapter, was that
teaching is regarded in terms of the interconnections between curriculum,
pedagogy and knowledge. Questions about specialization or distinctiveness
can be asked about these three interrelated aspects. The term teaching is there-
fore being used here in a general sense to cover a range of issues concerned
with:
• What: curriculum issues.
• How: pedagogy and knowledge issues.
• Where: setting issues including both location and social aspects.
• Why: the rationale for addressing the above issues in terms of wider political
and socio-cultural values and commitments.
We are aware that terms like teaching and pedagogy are not always used in
these ways, so it is important to draw attention to the ambiguities that are
associated with these commonly used terms.
Curriculum
In the introductory chapter the relationship between curriculum and
pedagogy is presented as one where curriculum questions can set the deter-
mining context for questions about the commonality – specialization of peda-
gogy. This view was supported in several of the chapters. In the first chapter we
highlighted the potentially contested nature of how a common curriculum
could be conceptualized and designed. This includes traditional issues about
curriculum design, such as academic versus vocational orientations, process
versus product design approaches and collected versus integrated approaches
to curriculum areas. The latter aspect was not mentioned in the first chapter,
but did emerge in the chapter on children with speech, language and com-
munication needs (SLCN), as we discuss below. Curriculum design involves
different levels of generality and specificity at which commonality–
specialization questions can be addressed. If commonality is set at the general
level of aims and goals, then this enables flexibility to be built in. Specialized
programmes for some children (supplementary or remedial/therapeutic pro-
grammes) can be mixed with common ones. If commonality is set at the level
of specific programmes in particular areas of the curriculum, then questions of
appropriateness to children with unusual or exceptional needs come to be
significant. In the starting framework we identified two broad forms of special-
ized curriculum areas and programmes: supplementary or additional ones and
remedial or restorative ones.
The contributors to the book adopt positions about the curriculum relevant
to their particular areas of special educational needs that address all these
aspects of the starting framework. They do this in different styles, as would be
expected. Some discuss and cover a range of curriculum approaches and high-
light differences found in their area of special educational needs, others take
up a particular position, not intending to show a range within their area of
special educational needs. Both approaches are useful and make a contribution
to the overall picture. However, the implication is that the book overall does
not provide a definitive overview of all teaching approaches – it is more
illustrative of issues and positions.
Several of the chapters indicate that there are internal differences about
curriculum questions, some of which can be attributed to the diversity or
heterogeneity of the needs within their area of special needs. In the chapter on
deafness, differences in curriculum approach are presented in terms of the
heterogeneity of the broad group and related to the deaf culture based on the
use of signing. There are similarities between the deaf and visual impairment
areas with respect to the heterogeneity of the groups. In the visual impairment
area the relevance of additional curriculum programmes concerned with
mobility, for example, depends on severity of impairment. By contrast, in the
PMLD area, the chapter indicated some difference between programmes in
terms of the adoption of a more process or a more product orientation to

curriculum design. Two of the chapters also provided evidence of how the
wider cultural context influences the curriculum approach. In the deafness
area, different curriculum approaches reflect commitments to whether com-
munication is in terms of an English, signed English or signed bilingual
medium. By contrast, the chapter on low attainers showed how the school
curriculum can be linked to wider interventions outside the school with
families and the neighbourhood.
Several of the chapters indicated that curriculum commonality could only
be at the broadest general level of common principles, as otherwise the diver-
sity of educational needs would call for specialization. This was most explicitly
argued in the chapter on ASD, which questioned the concept of a ‘universal
curriculum design’. Curriculum relevance was judged to be more important
than curriculum breadth for this group. Programmes for this group, it was
argued, also require a therapeutic or remedial model. The chapter on PMLD
implied that the curriculum for this group had a focus on communication and
covered fewer curriculum areas. This was another example of the priority
being to relevance rather than breadth.
Four of the chapters suggested that their areas required a curriculum
approach that departed from the current dominant curriculum practices in the
UK, though these variations depended on the particular area of SEN. In the ASD
chapter, it was argued that access and remedial orientations needed to be com-
bined. The strong emphasis on access in special education was not enough. A
similar approach was evident, though not explicitly stated, in the AD/HD
chapter. There it was argued that in teaching children with AD/HD it was
important to circumvent difficulties by working to strengths, while also focus-
ing on programmes to reduce inattentiveness and impulsiveness. The AD/HD
chapter also implied that curriculum programmes need to be more flexible and
geared to pupil learning styles. This is based on the argument that the uniform-
ity and product orientation of current curricula are involved in the causation of
AD/HD. The curriculum variation for children with SLCN involved a move
away from a collected to a more integrated approach to curriculum areas, in
particular between subject learning and language learning. For the PMLD
group the development of intensive interaction programmes can be seen as a
departure from a more product- or target-based curriculum approach. The
chapter on low attainers questioned the appropriateness of traditional
academic curriculum provision for those aged 13–16 years (Key Stage 4).
It is interesting that there were no clear links between these different areas of
special educational needs in which contributors call for variations from dom-
inant curriculum practices. This contrasts with the two related areas of SEN,
deafness and visual impairment (sensory impairments) where the chapters
indicate the need for additional curriculum programmes. In the visual
impairment area, there are programmes focusing on mobility, use of residual
vision, maximum use of senses and special literacy routes. In the deafness area,
there are distinctive communication routes, though only where communi-
cation is in terms of signed bilingual or signed English approaches. Though
the chapter on deafblindness does not indicate the need for additional
programmes for this group, tangible symbol systems were identified as

important. Their use could be taken to imply that additional programmes are
needed for this group too.
For most of the areas of special educational needs there was no indication of
the need for specialized curriculum programmes, or departures from dominant
curriculum practices. These chapters suggest the need for a greater emphasis
on certain common curriculum areas, continua of common curriculum
approaches, the curriculum version of continua of pedagogic strategies. In the
chapter on MLD, it is suggested that some people advocate a particular
emphasis on programmes focusing on problem-solving and social interaction.
In the PMLD chapter, there is reference to a curriculum emphasis not only on
communication but also on choice-making, while in the EBD chapter the
emphasis is more on the area of personal and social/emotional development.
The curriculum emphasis in two other chapters, deafblindness and Down’s
syndrome, is on sensory strengths; in deafblindness on tactile senses and in
Down’s syndrome on visual rather than auditory senses. By contrast, in the
chapters on MLD and SLD, the emphasis is not on curriculum areas, but on
the degree of structure of the progression and sequence of the programmes.
The focus is on the sequencing of small steps in both MLD and SLD, though
the chapter refers to criticism of this in the SLD area and moves to more
naturalistic approaches.
Curriculum is not treated as a significant focus compared to pedagogy and
knowledge in the chapters on dyslexia and dyspraxia, two related forms of
specific learning difficulties. In two chapters, on deafblindness and PMLD, it is
explained how curriculum programmes draw on early child development
stages and process. In deafblindness the programmes focus on early develop-
mental stages associated with theories of attachment, early socialization and
language, while in PMLD the intensive interaction programmes are also based
on theory about early adult–infant interactions.
In terms of the starting framework about curriculum, some chapters referred
to curriculum approaches that aimed to reduce difficulties rather than circum-
vent or accept them: the ASD, AD/HD and low attainers chapters. However,
there were no references to specialized programmes focusing on cognitive/
intellectual difficulties, such as instrumental enrichment or thinking skills
programmes, in the MLD or SLD chapters. This may be because of the scarcity
of programme effectiveness evidence or possibly because an emphasis on these
skills may be seen as relevant to a common programme subject to a variation
of emphasis for these groups, as was suggested in the MLD chapter’s reference
to problem-solving skills.
Knowledge
Relevant knowledge has emerged more strongly in the chapters in this book
than it did in our preceding review, which focused on learning difficulties only
(see Chapter 1). The inclusion of knowledge in the model proposed in Chapter
1 arose in part from the responses to our initial review (Lewis and Norwich
2000; Norwich and Lewis 2001). A minority of contributors to this book (low
attainers, MLD, EBD, SLCN, deafblindness) did not discuss the knowledge
aspects outlined in Chapter 1. In some cases the omission was deliberate, in
others the omission was justified, in discussion with us, as reflecting wordage
constraints and the relative, not absolute, lack of importance of ‘knowledge’.
Some implied knowledge requirements can be extrapolated from the chapters.
For the other contributors, the nature of required knowledge in relation to our
identified groups can be seen as spanning four foci.
Knowledge 1: the nature of the special needs group

This is strongly apparent in the chapters on PMLD, visual impairment, deaf-
ness, Down’s syndrome, dyspraxia, dyslexia, ASD and AD/HD. The position
is that, regardless of pedagogic relevance, such knowledge is valuable in its
own right as underpinning the learner’s development. One illustration of a
strong position in relation to knowledge of the special needs group is the
position taken in relation to deaf children. Here the knowledge base is strongly
distinctive (reflecting advocacy of deaf culture). Some writers in this book
argue for the importance of group knowledge even when the nature of the
group is contested (e.g. dyslexia), suggesting that uncertainties about the
nature of the group may be rectified by the field over time, rather than seen as
irrelevant or misplaced. The AD/HD chapter expresses most clearly a view
about how knowledge 1 – of the nature of AD/HD – impacts on teachers’
practical thinking and decision-making.
Some aspects of knowledge are not directly relevant in relation to teach-
ing strategy (e.g. life expectancy for children with Down’s syndrome), but
may be indirectly relevant. For example, they may intensify the salience of
specialized knowledge for the knower (see knowledge 2). However, not all
contributors make a case for knowledge of the group. For some contributors,
group-related knowledge is not relevant, as the group label is not seen as
having a valid, unique identity with relevance for pedagogic decisions (low
attainers, MLD). There the value of the group labels is in drawing attention to
the wider context of learning and the need to address, for example, the range
of economic, family and community factors that may, despite schools’ best
efforts, hamper school-based learning. This signalling function of the label is
echoed by some writers (AD/HD, dyslexia), who see the group label as carrying
both alerting or orienting and specific pedagogic functions.
Knowledge 2: relates to oneself as teacher

Three chapters in particular (EBD, autism, low attainers) indicate that a further
relevant aspect of knowledge relates to oneself as a teacher. Self-knowledge and
professional identity may be linked with particular value positions (for
example, valuing a broad and learner-centred curriculum) that operate across
all learners. In this context what seems to be masquerading as an SEN-specific
approach may be concealing a position that (ideally) would be applied to all
learners but, perhaps because of perceived system features, is articulated in
relation to the less constrained special needs context. In contrast, self-

knowledge as a professional in the field may, drawing on social identity the-
ory, be linked with a very strong SEN-oriented identity and expressed through
various group maintenance strategies, such as advocacy of highly specialized
approaches (Lewis and Crisp 2004). In this position the special needs group
label has relevance to allied professionals, rather than to pupils, in identifying
interprofessional relationships.
Knowledge 3: relates to the psychology of learning

This reflects a unique differences position in that knowledge about the
psychology of learning would be seen as required for effective teaching of all
learners (see chapters on Down’s syndrome, SLD, ASD). For example, one
might extrapolate that a sound understanding of self-regulation and attendant
processes is of value to the teacher whether working with children with
AD/HD, sensory needs or a range of learning difficulties.
Knowledge 4: knowledge of curriculum areas and general

pedagogic strategies
This also reflects a unique differences position in that knowledge about curric-
ulum areas and general pedagogic strategies is assumed to be important in
relation to all learners (see chapters on Down’s syndrome, low attainment,
MLD, AD/HD, SLCN).
These four aspects of knowledge may be integrated and linked to pedagogy by

conceptualizing knowledge 1 as a filter through which the other forms of
knowledge are seen, leading to curriculum and pedagogic decisions. Where
knowledge 1 is strongly defined (i.e. acting as a powerful filter) the resultant
teaching strategy will be perceived as appearing to be very different from prac-
tice elsewhere; where knowledge 1 is less clearly defined (weak filter) this will
not be the case.
One can illustrate this with reference to chapters that reflect contrasting
positions. The chapter on low attainment reflects a weak ‘SEN’ filter position
(broader social and economic factors are seen as paramount) and so the label
has no usefulness in terms of the knowledge base from which to plan teach-
ing. In contrast, the chapters on visual impairment and AD/HD note the
distinctiveness of these groups and therefore the associated knowledge base;
running through to produce different forms of teaching (if only by degree).
The ‘strong filter’ position concerning knowledge, in interaction with
knowledge 3 and 4, can be related to points about access and the need for
distinctiveness at this level (for example, the argument for specialized
resources through which particular groups of learners may access a common
curriculum).
Figure 16.1 Relationship between kinds of teaching knowledge
Pedagogy
The most widely made point in the chapters as regards pedagogy was the
scarcity of a researched evidence base about pedagogic strategies for the vari-
ous special needs areas. Several of the chapters also commented that this was
partly due to the difficulties and complexities of undertaking systematic
evaluation and research studies. The assumed model here is one of compara-
tive experimental or quasi-experimental evaluation studies. However, only the
AD/HD and EBD chapters approached the question of pedagogy in terms of
research into classroom pedagogy as involving teachers’ thinking that lies
behind teacher actions. The analysis in the AD/HD chapter drew on research
into teaching as involving professional craft knowledge. Pedagogy when con-
sidered from this perspective is seen to be strongly influenced by teachers’
perceptions of pupil characteristics and to involve the use of ready-made cat-
egories, a ‘typing’ process. It was argued that typing can have negative or
positive potential, and that knowledge of conditions like AD/HD can sharpen
less sophisticated forms of the typing of children, and in so doing have a
positive impact on pedagogy. This perspective is very relevant to the main
themes of the book, because the argument about AD/HD might be applied to
other areas of SEN. It also illustrates how knowledge about the area of SEN, one
of the aspects of teaching examined in the book, comes to be relevant to
pedagogic matters.
This focus on typing in teachers’ professional and pedagogic thinking also
presents a coherent way of introducing and supporting the notion of specific
group pedagogic needs. Yet only two chapters argue for the significance of
distinctive group pedagogy, ASD and AD/HD. It is argued that children with
ASD also have common pedagogic needs, but that their individual needs can
only be identified through a framework of group needs. As we discuss below,
this was the most coherent case made in the book for what we called in the
introductory chapter a group differences pedagogic position. In the AD/HD
chapter, the case is also made for a distinctive AD/HD pedagogy, though there
is no discussion of how these group pedagogic needs relate to common and
individual needs. The use of general AD/HD specific strategies, it is claimed, is

likely to reduce teacher abdication of responsibility and the degree of need for
medication. It is notable that the two areas of special educational needs that
take this perspective are two areas based on medically defined conditions that
have come more recently to parent, public and professional attention and
interest.
The other chapters adopt a perspective to pedagogy that assumes generic
strategies that are geared to difference by degrees of deliberateness and inten-
sity of teaching. Many of the chapters support their positions by arguing that
variations on the pedagogic strategies for their special needs area can also be
useful for other children. The chapters on dyslexia, dyspraxia, MLD and SLD,
for example, represent the pedagogic variations as reflecting deliberateness
and intensity, in line with our original review of the learning difficulties litera-
ture (Norwich and Lewis 2001). In the SLD chapter, for example, it is argued
that generic strategies, such as cuing, prompting, modelling and self-
management strategies, are attuned to individual needs. In the sensory
impairment areas, there is also reference to generic strategies, with more delib-
erate teaching for visual impairment and a continuum of strategies for
deafness, when using an English approach. Two chapters that focus on
broad areas, EBD and low attainers, point out that the diversity within these
groups reduces any pedagogic significance of the category. In both areas it is
also argued that the intensification of common pedagogic strategies required
for these groups is not distinctive to the groups. In the case of EBD this is seen
to be so even for the emotional and self-related aspects of pedagogy. In the case
of low attainers, it is suggested that pedagogy is connected to wider inter-
ventions that involve whole schools and families and may be preventive in
focusing on underlying at-risk factors outside schools. Though it is suggested
that the different interventions relevant to this diverse group may be
non-educational ones, all the examples used in this chapter involve some
connection between classroom, school-wide and outside school interventions.
Though the starting model of teaching put pedagogy in the context of cur-
riculum, it did not spell out how these aspects interacted. This is where some
of the chapters have helped to advance this framework by showing the inter-
relationship between curriculum and pedagogic aspects. In the visual impair-
ment chapter this is done through introducing the distinction between macro
and micro pedagogic strategies. While the macro strategies are presented as
generic, the micro strategies might be distinctive for those with visual
impairment, where the modality of access might be different, e.g. through
touch rather than sight. The interrelation between curriculum and pedagogy is
also evident in the deafness area, where pedagogic strategies depend on curric-
ulum orientation according to the use of English, signed English or signed
bilingual communication approaches. The PMLD chapter also indicates the
strong links between pedagogic strategies and curriculum approaches. In two
other chapters there is reference to curriculum approaches that cannot be
separated from pedagogic strategies. In the SLCN chapter, the pedagogic
strategies are dependent on the integration of curriculum areas where subject
and language learning are combined. In the EBD chapter there is reference to
a pedagogic tradition that is integral to a learner-centred and process

curriculum model.
As we noted in the above section on curriculum, the chapters on PMLD and
deafblindness indicate that teaching is strongly informed by developmental
psychology about typical development. It is also interesting that the two
chapters that deal with the specific learning difficulties, dyslexia and dys-
praxia, refer to background and related pedagogic factors that go beyond our
focus on pedagogic strategies. In the dyslexia chapter it is suggested that there
are other relevant factors, such as the general quality of teaching and the
availability of teaching resources. In the dyspraxia chapter other pedagogic
foci are indicated, such as the focus on language competencies and taking
account of gender factors given the predominance of boys with the condition.
Individual versus general differences positions
What is represented in the introductory chapter as the difference between

these two positions hinges on the significance of group-specific pedagogic
strategies in informing pedagogic decisions and practices. It is important to
clarify what is and is not involved in this distinction. The general differences
position is not just about specific group needs, or, in other words, pedagogic
implications do not flow just from group membership. This position also
assumes that common needs inform decisions and practices and that these are
attuned to individual needs. Nor is the individual differences position merely
about individual needs. It assumes that decisions and practices are informed
by a framework of general needs that are attuned to individual needs. The
individual differences position can be seen as a default position; if we do not
take account of specific group needs, then a reasonable alternative is to take
account of common and individual needs and therefore adopt the individual
differences position.
We might also expect that areas of SEN, where the group is more specifically
defined, are more likely to adopt the general differences position. There is
some evidence for this in the chapters on ASD and AD/HD. In the ASD chapter
this group, despite its diversity, is presented as requiring different approaches,
not just more of the same. In the AD/HD chapter the case is made for incorpor-
ating insights about AD/HD into teachers’ practical theorizing and teaching.
The ASD and AD/HD groups are defined more specifically than some of the
others areas covered, such as EBD or MLD. The position taken in the ASD
chapter is that needs are recognized through group differences, but not deter-
mined by them. It is also interesting that the area of EBD, which might be
construed as including AD/HD and aspects of ASD, is a more general area that
was not presented as supporting a general differences position.
The general difference position was also adopted in the chapter on deafness.
As indicated in the previous section, where there is a commitment to signing
as the form of communication, the use of a system such as BSL represents
a strong version of the general differences position. The other area where
a general differences position may be relevant is PMLD. It is noted in this
chapter that the definition of this group implies a general differences position,
but that the specialized teaching shares common characteristics with general
teaching. Though pedagogy is presented as specialized techniques at the
high intensity end of continua of pedagogic strategies, the degree of intensity
may be seen as sufficient to count as difference of kind. This interpretation fits
with a similar point made in the chapter on SLD, which is allied to the PMLD
area (see below).
The other chapters incline towards the individual differences position, in
line with the original literature review that we undertook several years ago.
It is widely stated that there is no single or distinctive pedagogy and that
strategies relevant to those identified in one kind of grouping are relevant to
other learners too. However, a very important point is also made in the
SLD chapter, which applies to other areas, that the presenting features of
pedagogic strategies may appear different when the principles may still
be the same. Strategies at the far end of intensity and deliberateness of the
continuum of general strategies may at some point come to be seen to be
different in kind and not degree. It is suggested that perceptions of difference
in relation to pedagogic strategy may reflect the viewer’s stance about learning
and pupils.
Several general points can be made in summary. The areas where authors
support the general differences position appear to be more clearly specified
(ASD, AD/HD). General differences positions are also supported where peda-
gogic strategies interact with aspects of teaching access (visual impairment)
and communication mode (deafness). The general differences position is also
one that avoids simple stereotyping in terms of group-based pedagogic needs;
it takes account of common and individual needs. However, the chapters that
adopt the individual differences position show the limits of this position. High
intensity along continua of general pedagogic strategies may come to be con-
strued as no longer a matter of difference of degree, but of kind. However, a
distinctive pedagogy for a child identified within, say, the PMLD group may
not be relevant to another child within that diverse group.
Distinctiveness may be identified at an individual level, but this does not
turn the individual differences position into a general differences position.
The reason for this is that the general differences position requires a general
relationship between a distinctive group, however defined, and a generalized
and distinctive kind of pedagogy. The book illustrates how far we are from
making these kinds of generalizations. It is crucial to be clear that when we
discuss the distinction between individual and general difference positions, we
are talking at the level of pedagogic principles, not about practical pro-
grammes with objectives and teaching procedures and materials. Teaching
that embodies the same pedagogic principles adapted at different points along
a continuum of intensity can be expected to involve different kinds of pro-
grammes at the levels of practical procedures and goals. To the teacher, the
National Literacy Strategy will appear different from a programme like ‘Alpha
to Omega’, designed for children with dyslexic type literacy difficulties. How-
ever, these programmes may share common pedagogic principles. This book is
about the principles of teaching and their specialization.
Additional themes arising
Contributors have also made additional points that fall into three broad
categories: intensification, research and professional training and education.
Intensification
Several contributors highlight aspects of pedagogic strategy (or of learning) in
relation to a particular group and in so doing signal their wider research rele-
vance. For example, sensory aspects of learning/teaching are noted as a
relevant research focus for deafblind pupils. If one accepts our notion of con-
tinua of intensification (encompassing attentiveness and deliberation in
teaching) then the sensory aspects of teaching that are so self-evidently
important for deafblind pupils may be used in a less intense form for – say –
low attainers or pupils with AD/HD. Because the research question has not
been posed in this way, the evidence is not there to refute or support this
hypothesis.
Research
All contributors note the serious dearth of research evidence (in terms of con-
ceptually useful or valid approaches) on which to base their conclusions
concerning the commonality or otherwise of pedagogic strategies. For many
contributors the existing research evidence fails to address this question due to
the repercussions of the problems with defining the special needs group. This
is immediately apparent with those groups that are notoriously difficult to
define (e.g. ‘low attainers’ or MLD) but, less expectedly, the same issue is noted
with (superficially) more clear-cut groups such as deafblind or SLD. Thus, the
research implications of the fuzziness of all the group labels in terms of
unambiguous and relevant learner characteristics are for the adoption of
research based on alternative dimensions (such as individual learner/teacher
characteristics; or other, more categorical features, such as performance on
standardized self-esteem or attainment measures). This points to a fine-grained
and individual-learner centred approach.
This perceived absence of good research evidence has prompted our contri-
butors to draw more heavily than we did in our original review on their
expertise and professional experience in the selected field, to make hypoth-
eses or claims for the importance of particular features of pedagogic strategy.
How representative of their fields our contributors are is an open question.
For some of the special educational needs groups in particular (notably
deafness, ASD, dyslexia, AD/HD, emotional and behavioural difficulties,
language) views within the field are polarized or diverse and personal value
positions will shape strongly the frame within which questions about
optimum teaching strategies are located. However, no research is value-free, so
any attempt to research special educational needs and teaching strategy
will reflect personal value positions; this is just more apparent in these hotly
contested fields.
Some contributors make claims concerning the need for long time scales to
show change, implying the need for longitudinal or possibly a series of cross-
sectional designs. One response to this point is that the more fine grained the
measure of change the more one would expect to be able to demonstrate
change over a relatively short time scale (even for pupils with PMLD or SLD).
In ‘typically developing’ populations one way round this problem might be to
use analyses of secondary data, but the definitional problems noted earlier
preclude this in the special educational needs context.
Professional training and education

A four-pronged approach to professional training and education in the special
educational needs field can be adduced from a synthesis and critique of the
chapters in this book.
First, the advocacy of a fine-grained approach to research in this field reson-
ates with the stress on teaching as a craft, noted particularly in the chapters on
AD/HD, emotional and behavioural difficulties and, less explicitly, ASD. In
line with this point, several contributors note the unsatisfactory nature of
‘packaged’ programmes and the need to avoid ‘quick fixes’ in teaching chil-
dren with SEN. An underlying theme, meshing with the notion of the intensifi-
cation of common pedagogic strategies, is the skilfulness required to apply a
common strategy differentially. This suggests that training in the special needs
field needs to focus on this cultivation of craft knowledge, beginning with the
‘commonality’ position and moving through degrees of intensification and
deliberation. Included in this may be the recognition of the value in borrow-
ing and adapting approaches originating with one group to apply to another
(noted in the language chapter).
Second, several contributors make a case for applying knowledge from child
development and the psychology of learning to the context of special edu-
cational needs (SLD, Down’s syndrome, PMLD, deafblindness). If one accepts
this case (Norwich 2000), then professional education and training also need
to address these areas. This developmental and psychological knowledge and
understanding offers broad and holistic perspectives that can inform the
processes of teaching and learning by opening up practical options. As the
chapters have illustrated, this kind of knowledge and understanding can act as
a cognitive resource for curriculum and pedagogic thinking, decision-making
and practices.
Third, the broader social or cultural contexts are noted as significant in rela-
tion to curriculum and pedagogic strategies (low attainers, deafness, EBD). This
indicates the need for professional education and training to be located as
‘learning to teach children with SEN’ within the immediate and wider social
and cultural contexts of schooling and teaching. Finally, we would argue that a
key aspect of professional education and training will include, but also go
beyond, a competency model based on practical knowledge and skill. It will
include an understanding of principles and concepts that underpin and help
to make sense of competencies. This understanding can inform the develop-
ment and deployment of competencies. We propose that the conceptual
framework presented in this book – in terms of the interaction of knowledge,

curriculum and pedagogy – the commonality–specialization continuum and
the concepts of intensification and deliberateness have general relevance to
preparing teachers to work with those with special educational needs in main-
stream and separate settings. In the UK context, this means going beyond the
approach used by the Teacher Training Agency in the National SEN Specialist
standards (TTA 1999).
These standards are designed to assist identification of the specific training
needs for those teaching children with ‘severe and complex’ SEN. There is
reference to ‘specialist teaching’ in the Standards, though the language tends
to be in terms of ‘professional knowledge, understanding and skills common
across the full range of severe and complex forms of SEN’ (page 4.12a). ‘Spe-
cialist’ therefore comes to be associated with ‘severe and complex SEN’, the
implication being of something distinctive in teaching compared with
teaching those with less severe SEN and those without SEN. Who is included
and excluded from the ‘severe and complex’ group is interesting – of the
broad groups we have considered, those with specific learning difficulties are
included, but moderate learning difficulties is excluded. There is no reference
to degrees of differences within these groups, though the limited nature of
these categories is noted.
One of the five aspects of the Core SEN Standards, which are common to all
areas of severe and complex SEN, covers ‘effective teaching, ensuring max-
imum access to the curriculum’ (TTA, 1999 page 11). Teachers with specialist
knowledge and skills are, for example, expected to:
iii. analyse complex sequences of learning and set smaller, but appropriate,
achievable targets for pupils whose progress is not demonstrated when
set solely against more conventional assessment criteria;
iv. identify individual learning outcomes and develop, implement and
evaluate a range of approaches, including, for example, task analysis,
skills analysis and target setting, to help pupils achieve those outcomes
in a variety of settings;
v. explore ways of reducing barriers to learning.
What is specific about teaching those with special educational needs is absent
in this formulation. The theme running through references to effective
specialist teaching is the generalized phrase ‘ensuring greater access to the
curriculum’. These statements about effective teaching certainly apply to
teaching pupils with less severe SEN and to low attainers not identified as
having SEN. What is so notable about these National SEN Specialist Standards
is the omission of a framework for conceptualizing the nature of specialist
teaching and its relationship to teaching in general.
We propose the framework used in this book as a starting point for setting
out a coherent and common framework of teaching that is inclusive,
while making it possible for differences in the degree of intensity, attention
and deliberateness in teaching to be recognized. However much research and
development work is needed:
• to identify the different strands or dimensions along which teaching is

intensified in curriculum and pedagogic terms;
• to analyse established and dependable teaching practices for the range of
diverse special educational needs in terms of these strands.
It is unlikely that teaching standards that are relevant to pupils along the full
continuum of need can be established without a more evidence-based and
conceptual approach to their construction.
Concluding comments: implications for schools,

services and policy
‘What are the implications of this work for policy and practice?’ is something
we have been asked on many occasions over the past four years in which we
have developed this work. As we note in the preface, this book does not aspire
to be about specific ‘tips for teachers’, but aims to address fundamental con-
ceptual questions concerning the specificity or otherwise of ‘SEN teaching’. It
has cleared some of the theoretical ground in making some key conceptual
distinctions (individual versus general differences position), illustrating the
interaction between aspects of teaching (curriculum, knowledge and peda-
gogy). It has also contributed by taking a position in relation to the question
about commonality–specialization of teaching through highlighting the value
of the continuum concept and how differentiation or specialization can be seen
as a process of intensification.
Since our initial review of pedagogy for children with various forms of learn-
ing difficulties, we have wanted to extend our analyses to other areas of SEN,
while responding to those who have shown us that we needed a broader
framework for analysis. On the basis of the contributions about the range of
areas of SEN in this book, we can conclude that the traditional special needs
categories used in the UK, and internationally, have limited usefulness in the
context of planning, or monitoring, teaching and learning in most areas.
Where it is argued that they have usefulness, the categories operate as orient-
ing concepts and inform decision-making about teaching as one of several
other important elements. Special needs categories may have some adminis-
trative convenience in terms of additional resourcing, staffing, materials and
equipment, but these are not issues we have addressed in this book.
Our conceptual framework also implies that teaching children with SEN has
to be seen in terms of a many-levelled interacting system in which individual
children are nested in the class group, whole school, local authority, regional
and central government policies and practices. Classroom pedagogy is nested
within teaching programmes that are determined by school and then ultim-
ately national programmes and commitments. Practical pedagogies for those
with special educational needs might look different from dominant main-
stream pedagogies, but these are differences, we have argued, at the level of
concrete programmes, materials and perhaps settings. They are not differences
in the principles of curriculum design and pedagogic strategy.
We contend that a robust understanding of the debate embodied in this

book should be part of the professional culture of all teachers, including those
working predominantly with children with special educational needs. The
book is presented as much as a start to this debate as a compilation and
analyses of contemporary positions by a national group of experts in the field.
The stance that we have taken calls for a response from others in the search for
justifications for particular pedagogic practices. As such, the implications for
policy and provision overlap with the earlier points concerning professional
education and training.
References
DfES (2003) Data Collection by Type of Special Educational Needs. Guidance. London: DfES.
Lewis, A. and Crisp, R. J. (2004) Measuring social identity in the professional context of
provision for pupils with special needs, School Psychology International, 25(3): 101–18.
Lewis, A. and Norwich, B. (2000) Is there a distinctive special educational needs
pedagogy?, in Specialist Teaching for Special Educational Needs. Tamworth: NASEN.
Norwich, B. (2000) Educational psychology and special educational needs: how
they relate and where is the relationship going?, Educational and Child Psychology,
16(2): 5–15.
British Educational Research Journal, 27(3): 313–31.
TTA (1999) National SEN Specialist Standards. London: TTA.
Index
Page references in italics refer to figures and diagrams. Special needs groups are referred
to by initials, but the main entry gives the full description of the term in brackets.
academic subjects, used to teach All Russian Association of the Blind, 48

communication skills, 73 American Psychiatric Association, 55, 110,
ACCAC, 68 125, 126
AD/HD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Anastopoulos, A., 126
Disorder), 123–34 Anderson, H., 170
as bio-psycho-social phenomenon, 128 Angold, A., 126
challenge to current educational Arter, C.A., 29, 30
organization and strategy, 128–9 Arvio, M., 70
effect of classroom management on ASD (autistic spectrum disorders), 110–19
pupils, 132 communication problems, 114–16
cognitive strategies, 129–30 curriculum, 112–13, 116, 119, 209
curriculum, 133, 209 description and prevalence, 110–12
description and causes, 125–6 educational needs, 112–14
links with dyslexia and DCD pedagogic strategies, 119, 213
(dyspraxia), 153 Ashdown, R., 88
medical construct view, 124 Asperger’s syndrome, 110
medication, 131, 132 assisted learning, for dyslexia, 142, 143
pedagogic strategies, 129–32, 133, 213 Atkinson, A., 167
prevalence, 125–6 attachment and security, child
research into causes, 127–8 development, 46
social effects, 126 Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
Adams, C., 104 see AD/HD
Adams, M.J., 141 Aubrey, C., 182, 184
Ainscow, M., 4, 128 Audit Scotland, 88
Aitken, S., 42 auditory memory, in Down’s syndrome,
Alar, N., 113 85
Alexander, R.J., 7 Ault, M., 70
aural-oral approach, for deafness, 19, 20, Bishop, D.V., 85, 98

23 Bishop, J., 21
autistic spectrum disorders see ASD Blackburn, R., 113
automatization deficit hypothesis, Blakemore, S., 54
dyslexia, 142 Blamires, M., 168
blindness
Baddeley, C., 85 definition, 26
Bailey, A., 110 see also visual impairment
Balfanz, R., 201 Blunden, R., 55
Barkley, R., 126, 128, 129, 132 body language, needs of ASD, 114
Barnhart, R.C., 158 Booth, T., 128
Baron, S., 186 Botting, N., 103
Baron-Cohen, S., 110 Bovair, K., 88
basic interpersonal communication skills, Boyce, W.T., 48
100 boys, achievement and learning style, 157
Basil, C., 59 BPS, 139, 145
Bates, E., 98 Braden, J., 17
Bauman, M.L., 111 Bragen, K., 174
Baumgart, D., 76, 78 Braille, 32, 33–4, 35, 38
BCIS (Behaviour Chain Interruption Brakley, R., 127
Strategy), 58 Braswell, L., 129
Beech, M., 103 Brennan, W.K., 199
Beeghly, M., 86, 87 Bridgman, Laura, 43
Behaviour Chain Interruption Strategy, 58 British Association of Teachers of the Deaf,
behavioural difficulties 15
NLD children, 155 British Psychological Society, 139, 145
see also SEBD Brooks, G., 143, 184, 185
behavioural modelling, for AD/HD, 130 Browder, D.M., 57
behavioural rate, in PMLD, 69 Brown, S., 124
behavioural state, in PMLD, 69, 77 Bruscia, K.E., 56
behavioural synthesis, executive brain BSL (British Sign Language), 18
function, 127 Buckland, M., 180
‘being-with’, teacher adaptation to SEBD, Buckley, S., 83, 85, 88
172, 173 Bull, S., 4
Bennathan, M., 167 Burack, J.A., 56
Bennett, N., 7, 185 Burden, R., 139
Benson, B., 90 Butler, F.M., 60
Beverton, S., 192 Buultjens, M., 27
BICS (basic interpersonal communication Byers, 68
skills), 100
Biederman, J., 152 calendar boxes, use in deafblindness, 47
Biggart, A., 193 CALP (cognitive academic language
Bikklen, D., 60 proficiency), 100
bilingualism Cantwell, D., 128
EAL learners, 99–100 caregiver-infant interaction, in PMLD,
sign and natural language use in 71–2
deafness, 18 carers
Binnie, L.M., 87 relationship,
bio-psycho-social model see psycho-bio- with deafblind child, 45
social model with PMLD and learning, 71
Bird, G., 83, 85, 88 Carlin, M.T., 56, 58
Index 225
Carpenter, B., 88, 186 cognitive strategies

Carr, J., 84, 86, 87 in AD/HD, 129
Carter, M., 58 in language development, 98
Carver, J., 48 Cole, T., 170, 171
Cass, A., 185 Coleman, M., 111
categorization see classification Collier, V., 100
Caton, H.R., 35 Combley, M., 140
Cavalier, A.R., 54 commonality-difference/specialization
CBM (cognitive behaviour modification), in ASD, 117
129 continuum, 219, 220
CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy), 129 in curriculum, 10–11, 11, 208
Centre for the Study of Inclusive communication
Education, 184 in ASD, difficulties, 114–16
chain of expectancies, 46 in Down’s syndrome, speech and
Chamot, A., 105 language difficulties, 84–5
Chapman, R.S., 84, 90 non-verbal percentage of teaching,
Chertkoff Walz, N., 90 154–5
child development repertoire of natural symbols, 46
and deafblindness, 45–6 ‘Special Time’ strategy, 105–6
PMLD, 69, 70 communication skills
SLD, 54 pupils with MLD, 186
choice-making, in PMLD, 73 strategies for development in PMLD,
Cicchetti, D., 86, 87 71–2
classification subject approach to teaching, 73
deafblindness, 42 teachers of the deaf, 16
deafness, 15 teaching,
DSM classification of AD/HD, 127 conversational skills in ASD, 115
of learners with disabilities, 3–4 through embedded learning method,
of SLD, 55 58
classroom adaptations, for deaf children, see also listening skills
18 computer assisted learning, reading skills,
classroom interaction, deaf children, 21–2 59
classroom management concept formation, development, 45
demands on pupils, 128–9 congenital deafblindness, 41–2, 44–5
effect on AD/HD pupils, 132 Connor, M., 140
research recommendations, 183–4 Conrad, R., 19
Clausen-May, T., 184 Constable, A., 98, 103, 104
Clay, M.M., 194, 195 constant time delay, in mathematics
Clunies-Ross, L., 27, 28 teaching, 60
co-active movement, 46, 48 Conti-Ramsden, G., 103
co-intentional education, 174 contingency awareness, in PMLD, 73–4
co-morbidity see multiple disability continua, of pedagogic strategies, 5–6, 6,
co-occurrence of difficulties see multiple 10
disability continuum
cochlear implants, 16, 23 commonality-specialization, 219,
Cockerill, H., 105 220
cognitive academic language proficiency, integration of language learning, 102,
100 106
cognitive behaviour modification, 129 PMLD, 74
cognitive behavioural therapy, 129 of social emotional and behavioural
cognitive research, AD/HD, 127 difficulties, 167
of specialized approaches for dyslexia, visually impaired children, 37, 208, 209
142, 143 additional areas, 29–31
of strategies for SLD, 62, 63 differences in, 32
see also differentiation curriculum design, 208
conversational skills, teaching for ASD, curriculum goals, for SEN pupils, 2, 11
115 Cuskelly, M., 86
Cook, T., 105
Cooper, P., 124, 130, 131 Daniels, H., 8, 61, 170
Cooper, R., 169 Davies, A., 140
Copeland, S.R., 58 Dayus, B., 86
Corley, G., 34 DCD (developmental coordination
Corn, A.L., 26 disorder), 151–62
Costley, D., 186 behaviours, 155
counting, and SLD, 60 characteristics, 151–2
Cowling, H., 140 connection with dyslexia, 152–3
Cowling, K., 140 diagnosis, 151–2, 153
craft knowledge and learning difficulties, 154–5
development in training, 218 pedagogic strategies, 155–8, 161
in teaching, 123 see also dyspraxia
see also knowledge base for teaching Deaf community, 18
Crawford, J., 113 deafblindness, 41–52
Crisp, R.J., 212 categories, 42
Croll, P., 180, 186 curriculum, 50, 51, 209–10
Cronbach, L.J., 3 definition, 42–3
Crowther, D., 4, 185 deprivation theory, 44–5
CSIE, 184 development of treatments, 43–4
cultural context, for pupils with learning incidence and causes, 41–2
difficulties, 8 pedagogic strategies, 45–7, 49, 51
Cumine, V., 114, 116 relationship with carer, 45
Cummins, J., 100 see also deafness; sensory impairment
cumulative programmes, in dyslexia, 141 deafness, 15–25
curriculum, 9–13, 208–9 classifications, 15
AD/HD, 133, 209 classroom interaction, 21–2
ASD, 112–13, 116, 119, 209 and cognitive ability, 17
commonality-difference issues, 10–11, curriculum, 24, 208, 209
11 developments, 23
deaf children, 24, 208, 209 in Down’s syndrome, 84
deafblind children, 50, 51, 209–10 incidence, 15
development of vocational courses, 200 language difficulties, 16–17, 18–19
Down’s syndrome, 92, 210 literacy, 19–20
EAL/SLCN, 107, 209 mathematics, 20–1
knowledge of areas, 212 pedagogic strategies, 17–22, 24
low attainment, 203 unique differences position, 22
MLD, 183, 187, 189, 210 see also deafblindness; sensory
PMLD, 75–6, 77, 208, 209, 210 impairment
problems of lineal programmes, 128–9 Dean, E., 104
SEBD, 177, 210 defectology, 43
SLD, 62–3, 210 delay, differences v. delay theory of
specialization and pedagogic learning disability, 90–1
adaptation, 12 Denckla, M.B., 152
Success for All programme, 196–8 Department for Education, 167
Index 227
Department of Education and Science, 4, Duffy, F.H., 152

12, 55, 192, 198, 199 Duffy, L., 86, 89
Department for Education and Skills, 4, DuPaul, G., 130, 131
59, 67, 166, 167, 193, 206 Dykens, E.M., 55, 89, 90
Department of Health, 118 dyslexia, 138–47
deprivation theory, 44–5 automatization deficit hypothesis,
DES, 4, 12, 55, 192, 198, 199 142
Detheridge, M., 60 causal modelling framework, 140
Detheridge, T., 60 deficits in motor skills (dyspraxia),
developmental approach, to learning 152–3
difficulties, 54 definitions, 139
developmental coordination disorder see international overview, 145
DCD pedagogic strategies, 141–5, 146–7
developmental delay, 187 phonological difficulties, 145
Dewey, D., 152, 153 phonological programmes, 140–1
DfE, 167 understanding of term, 138–9
DfES, 4, 59, 67, 166, 167, 193, 206 see also reading skills
Diament, S., 28 Dyson, A., 88, 182
differences v. delay, theory of learning dyspraxia, 150–62
disability, 90–1 definition, 150–1
differentiation see also DCD
for pupil needs, 183, 187 Dyspraxia Foundation, 156
see also continuum
distancing, in child development, 46 EAL (English as an Additional Language),
Dockrell, J., 2, 98 96–107
Dodd, B., 56 characteristics, 98–101
DoH, 118 curriculum, 101–2, 107
dopamine abnormalities, in AD/HD, 127 differences from SEN pupils, 100
Douëtil, J., 195 pedagogic strategies, 101–6, 107
Douglas, G., 30, 32, 33, 34 early years, ‘Special Time’ strategy,
Down’s syndrome, 81–93 105–6
characteristics of learning, 87–8 EBD (emotional and behavioural
curriculum, 92, 210 difficulties) see SEBD
description and causes, 82–3 Edwards, D., 18
differences from other learning Ellis, N.R., 54
difficulties, 90 embedded learning methods, 58
health, 83–4 emotional difficulties
language, 84–5 disturbance in NLD children, 155
learning style, 86–7 see also SEBD
levels of disability, 84 emotional engagement, in learning and
pedagogic strategies, 85–6, 88, 89, 91–2 ASD, 113
prevalence, 83 empirical evidence
public views, 82 Down’s syndrome, 88
social behaviour, 86–7 dyslexia, 143–4, 144–5
Down’s Syndrome Association, 83, 85 for pedagogic positions, 5
DownsEd team, language resources, 85 SLD, 61–2
drama, as an approach to literacy, 60 see also research
Drew, S., 156 Engestrom, Y., 170
Dreyfus, H.L., 101 English-based approaches, for deaf
Dreyfus, S.E., 101 children, 18, 19, 21, 22
Dubey, D.R., 130 enhancing cues, in learning, 58
environment deafness, 22, 24–5

of special needs groups, 207 Down’s syndrome, 91, 92
see also learning environment dyslexia, 142, 143
errorless learning methods, 57, 58 in pedagogic needs, 5
Ervin, R.A., 129 PMLD, 68, 69, 78
ethos, of interventions for MLD, 183 SEBD, 171–2, 177
Evans, P., 67, 70 SLD, 63
Everett, J., 144 visually impaired children, 36, 37
executive brain functions, 127 generic strategies, 184, 201, 214
in AD/HD, 129–30 for AD/HD, 132
experience deprivation, 44 for deaf pupils, 22
expertise see knowledge base for teaching metalinguistic awareness, 104
eye contact, ASD, 114 genetic studies, AD/HD, 127
Gergen, K., 172
factory model of education, 128–9 Gersten, R., 53
family environment, effect on AD/HD, Geschwind, N., 152
128 Geuze, R.H., 153
family support team in Success for All Gillberg, C., 111, 151
programme, 196 Gillberg, I.C., 153
Farmer, M., 144 Gillborn, D., 100
Farrell, P., 88, 185 Gilmore, L., 82
Farrell, S., 197 goal setting, for pupils with SLD, 58–9
Farrington, D., 126 Goddard, A., 183, 186
Fawcett, A.J., 138, 140, 142, 152 Goldbart, J., 58, 72
fear, felt by teachers in SEBD, 175 Goldfus, C., 103, 105
feedback, for AD/HD pupils, 130 Goodall, K., 87
Ferguson, D., 75, 76 Goodman, 129
Ferrell, K., 29 Goswami, U., 145
Fisher, A., 72 Goulandris, N., 145
Fitz-Gibbon, C.R., 157 grammatical difficulties, 99
Fletcher-Campbell, F., 183, 184, 186 Greaney, J., 32, 33, 34, 38
Fombonne, E., 112 Greenhill, L., 126
Fortnum, H.M., 15, 19 Gregory, S., 18, 20, 21
Fowler, A.E., 85 Grinder, M., 150
Franco, F., 87 group difference see general differences
Franklin, A., 27 position
Franklin, B.M., 192, 201 group profiles, special needs groups see
Fredrickson, N., 140 special needs groups, nature
Freire, P., 174, 201 group specific needs, ASD, 113
Frith, U., 54, 128, 140, 146 group work, 186
Frosh, S., 118 Grove, N., 60, 73
functional visual assessments, 26–7 Grunsell, J., 58
Gubbay, S.S., 151
Gallaway, C., 21 Guess, D., 69
Garner, P., 169 Guiney, D., 171, 172
Gathercole, S., 56 Gulliford, R., 192, 199
gender bias, in autistic spectrum, 110–11 Gunn, D., 85
general differences position, 3–4, 3, Gunn, P., 83, 86, 87
215–6
AD/HD, 133–4 Hall, D., 151
ASD, 116, 119, 213–4 Hallgarten, J., 125
Index 229
handwriting difficulties, strategies, 156 IDA, 139

Hanline, M., 73 Ideus, K., 130
Hanson, M., 73 impulsiveness, feature of AD/HD, 127
Hargreaves, D., 124 incidence
Hatcher, P., 140 AD/HD, 125–6
Haywood, R., 199 ASD, 112
hearing impairment see deafness DCD (dyspraxia), 151
hearing loss, 15, 16 deafblindness, 41
see also deafness deafness, 15
Heath, S.B., 97 Down’s syndrome, 83
Hechtman, L., 126 PMLD, 70
Hegarty, S., 184 SLD, 55
Heidegger, M., 175 visual impairment, 27, 28
Henderson, R., 195 incidental knowledge/information
Henderson, S.E., 151, 153 and deafness, 16
Henry, L.C., 56 and visual impairment, 29
Her Majesty’s Inspectorate, 88, 157 inclusion
Hesketh, A., 103, 104 and ASD, 118
Hesketh, L.J., 84, 90 deaf children in mainstream schooling,
Hewett, D., 70, 71, 72 15, 23
high density teaching, 5–6 Down’s syndrome, 82, 86, 88–9
dyslexia, 142 EAL learners, 96–7, 100
Hinshaw, S., 126, 128, 130 use of interpreters for sign bilingual
HMCI, 157 pupils, 23
HMI, 88, 157 PMLD, 76
Hobson, P., 114 and SEBD, 171–2
Hodapp, R.M., 55, 89, 90 SLCN learners, 96–7
Hogg, J., 67 in USA, 1
Holland, A., 84 independence, additional curriculum for
Hopmann, M., 82 visually impaired, 30
Hopwood, V., 21 individual differences position, 215–6
Hornby, G., 167, 185, 186 see also unique differences position
Hornsby, B., 143, 144 individualized learning, 186
Horvat, M., 130 dyslexia programmes, 142, 143
House, B., 54 Reading Recovery programme for low
Howell, J., 104 attainers, 194–6
Howley, M., 116 Success for All, 196–8
Howlin, P., 112 Individuals with Disabilities Education
Hraper, G., 130 Act Amendments, 1997, 1
Huberman, A., 172 infant development, parallels with PMLD,
Hughes, C., 58 75
Hurry, J., 195 information access
Hynd, G.W., 138 for visually impaired, 30, 36
hypothesis testing, in development of see also knowledge acquisition
teaching skills, 124 information processing, in PMLD,
69–70
ICT instruction model of teaching, 128, 170
additional curriculum for visually integration, of language and learning,
impaired, 30 101–6
assisted reading programmes, 59 intellectual disability, definition, 92
for communication in PMLD, 72–3 intensification, 217
interactions Keogh, J.F., 153

classroom for deaf children, 21–2 Kidd, R., 185, 186
intensive interaction, for PMLD, 71–2 kinaesthetic learning style, of AD/HD, 130
interdisciplinary integration, language Kirby, A., 156
learning/subject content, 101 Kirchner, C., 28
internalized speech, executive brain Kliewer, C., 60
function, 127 Klin, A., 114, 153
International Dyslexia Association, 139 Knight, D., 138
international overview Knight, P., 20, 21
dyslexia, 145–6 knowledge acquisition
PMLD, 76 limitations,
interpreters, for sign bilingual pupils, 23 of deafness, 16
interventions of visual impairment, 29
AD/HD, 131 see also information access
MLD, 183 knowledge base for teaching
for special education, 182 AD/HD, 133
see also pedagogic strategies ASD, 113, 115, 119
Iovannone, R., 112 Braille reading, 34
IQ, as a measure of severe learning DCD (dyspraxia), 161
difficulty, 55 deaf children, 24
understanding hearing loss, 16–17
Jarrold, C., 85 Down’s syndrome, 92
Johnson, M., 125, 140, 144 dyslexia, 144–5, 147
Johnston, F., 82 integrated learning and language for
Johnston, G., 181 EAL/SLCN, 106, 107
Jones, G., 112, 116 in PMLD, 75, 77–8
Jordan, A., 62 SEN groups, 9, 211
Jordan, R., 110, 112, 113, 114, 116, 117 SLD, 63
Jose, R.T., 30 visually impaired children, 29–31,
Joyce, B., 170 37
Julian, G., 68 see also craft knowledge
Knox, J., 43
Kadjeso, B., 151 Koenig, A.J., 26, 31
Kahn, J.V., 69 Kumin, L., 84
Kail, R., 70 Kushlik, A., 55
Kakazawa, T., 27 Kvale, S., 169
Kaplan, B.J., 153
Kaplan, D., 47 Lacey, P., 54
Karrer, J.H., 90 Lamb, G., 31
Kasari, C., 87 Lamb, S., 186
Katims, D.S., 59 language, strength in DCD (dyspraxia)
Kearney, C.A., 73 and NLD, 157
Keeffe, J., 35 language acquisition (development)
Keenan, K., 167 ASD, 114–16
Keil, S., 27, 28 deaf pupils, 16, 17, 18–19
Kelleher, A., 70 Down’s syndrome, 84–5
Keller, Helen, 43 EAL/SLCN and integration with subject
Kellett, M., 72 content, 101–6
Kelly, G., 166 motor speech deficits in dyslexia, 153
Kelly, N., 186 effect of poverty, 97
Kemper, T.L., 111 theories, 98
Index 231
language approach to reading, in dyslexia, use of metalinguistic awareness, 104–5

141 and visually impaired children, 31–4
Larson, S.A., 55 literacy routes, for visually impaired
Laslett, R., 167, 168 children, 31–2, 32
Laws, G., 85 Literacy Strategy, 59
Lawton, D., 9 literal understanding, in ASD, 115
learning literature, used to teach communication
effects of sensory and experience skills, 74
deprivation, 44 Locke, A., 97, 103
emotional engagement, 113 Loeber, R., 167
enhancing cues, 58 Logan, J.R., 54
errorless learning, 57, 58 Lorenz, S., 88, 89
and visual impairment, 28–9 Lott, J.D., 54
learning difficulties Lotter, V., 112
and DCD, 154–5 low attainment, 192–203
definition, 92–3 definition and categorization, 192–3
Down’s syndrome, 84, 86–7 Lower Attaining Pupils Programme,
moderate, 180–9 198–200
profound and multiple, 67–80 pedagogic strategies, 193–4, 200–2,
severe, 53–63 214
learning disability and poverty, 201
definition, 92–3 Reading Recovery programme, 194–6
differences v. delay theory, 90–1 reasons, 199
learning environment risk, 197
for children with MLD, 185 Success for All programme, 196–8
for deafness, 22 low vision readers, 31, 34, 35–6
responsive environment in PMLD, 71 Lower Attaining Pupils Programme,
use of quiet area, 131, 157, 158 198–9, 198–200
see also environment Loxley, A., 167
learning style
in AD/HD, 130 MacFarland, S.Z.C., 45, 46
in Down’s syndrome, 86 Mackay, H.A., 58
Lee, B., 183 Maclean, M., 56
Lee, F., 180 macro strategies, 35, 36, 38, 214
Legge, G.E., 34 Madden, N.A., 197–8
Leontiev, A., 41 mainstream schooling see inclusion
Lewis, A., 2, 9, 88, 112, 114, 117, 139, 171, Male, D.B., 56
183–4, 210–1, 212, 214 Maller, S.J., 17
Lewis, V., 83, 86, 87 Mandel, H.P., 167
life expectancy, Down’s syndrome, 83–4, Mangold, S.S., 34, 35
84 Manning, G., 82
Lindsay, G., 98, 117 Mar, H.M., 56
listening skills Marcell, M.M., 54
additional curriculum for visually Marschark, M., 17
impaired, 30 Mason, H., 30
for deaf children, 19 mathematics
see also communication skills and DCD (dsypraxia), 154
literacy and deaf children, 20–1
and children with SLD, 59–60 and SLD, 60
and deaf children, 19–20 Mattes, L., 100
Reading Recovery programme, 194–6 McCall, S., 28–9, 30, 33, 38
McInnes, J.M., 42, 69 Mulcahy, M., 70

McIntyre, D., 124 multiple disability
McKnight, T.J., 73 AD/HD, 126
McLane, K., 1, 112 ASD, 112
McLinden, M, 28–9, 38 co-occurrence of difficulties, 207
McMullen, G., 127 DCD (dyspraxia), 152–3
McShane, J., 98 Down’s syndrome, 84
McWhinney, B., 98 SLD, 56
McWilliam, N., 103, 105 visually impaired children, 27–8
MDVI (multi-disabled visually impaired) multiple handicap, definition, 68
children, 27–8 multisensory deprivation, 42
Medical Research Council, 116 multisensory programmes, for dyslexia,
medication, in AD/HD, 131, 132 141, 144
Medwell, J., 113 Muter, V., 140
Meijer, C., 184
Mercer, N., 18 Nafstad, A., 45
Meshcheryakov, A., 43 NARA, 32–3, 34
Mesibov, G., 115, 116 Nation, K., 141
metacognitive learning, 105 National Curriculum, 10–11, 49–50
metalinguistic awareness, 104 and DCD pupils, 158
micro strategies, 35, 36, 38, 214 and MLD pupils, 186
Miles, M., 172 National Initiative for Assessment,
Miles, T.R., 143 Screening and Education in Autism,
Millar, S., 34 112
Miller, J.F., 84 National Institute of Clinical Excellence,
Miller, O., 33, 48–9 126
Millward, A., 88 National SEN Specialist Standards, 219
Missiuna, C., 150, 153, 154, 155 naturalistic methods of teaching, 57, 58
MLD (moderate learning difficulties), nature, of special needs groups see special
180–9 needs groups, nature
comparison with peers, 187 Neale Analysis of Reading Ability, 32–3, 34
curriculum, 183, 187, 189, 210 Nelson, C., 44, 46, 48
definition, 180–1 neurobiological research, AD/HD, 127
integration of pupils, 181 neuroscientific research, and
pedagogic strategies (interventions), deafblindness, 48
183, 184, 185, 186, 188 NIASA, 112
mobility, additional curriculum for Niccols, A., 86
visually impaired, 30, 31 NICE, 126
moderate learning difficulties see MLD Nicolson, R., 139, 140, 152
Mogford, K., 98 Nigg, J., 128
Moon (tactile literacy code), 32, 38 Nind, M., 70, 71, 72, 75
Moreno, C., 21 NLD (non-verbal learning disability),
Morrison, A., 124 154–5
Morss, J.R., 86 Noens, I., 114
Morton, J., 140, 146 Norwich, B., 2, 3, 9, 10, 112, 113, 114, 117,
Moses, D., 186 139, 168, 171, 183–4, 186, 210–1, 214,
mother-child relationship, in 218
deafblindness, 45 notable aspects of disability and teaching
motivational appraisal, executive brain AD/HD, 134
function, 127 ASD, 119
motor patterns, in concept formation, 45 DCD (dyspraxia), 162
Index 233
deafblind children, 51 for ASD, 119, 213

deafness, 25 based on experience and practice, 123–4
dyslexia, 147 continua, 5–6, 6, 10
EAL/SLCN, 107 DCD (dyspraxia), 155–8, 161
low attainment, 203 for deaf children, 17–22, 24
MLD, 189 for deafblindness, 45–7, 49, 50–1
PMLD, 78 for Down’s syndrome, 85–6, 88, 91–2
SEBD, 177 for dyslexia, 141–5, 146–7
SLD, 63 for EAL and SLCN, 101–6, 107, 214
visually impaired children, 38 knowledge base for teaching, 212
numeracy see mathematics low attainment, 200–2, 202–3, 214
Nunes, T., 21 Lower Attaining Pupils Programme, 200
nurturant dimension, of pedagogic for MLD, interventions, 183, 184, 185,
models, 170 186, 188
for PMLD, 70–4, 74–5, 77, 214
objects of reference, 47 Reading Recovery programme, 194–6
O’Brien, T., 166, 167, 169, 171, 172 scarcity of researched evidence, 213
O’Brien, Y., 74 for SEBD, 172, 176–7, 214
O’Connor, D., 125 constructs, 169–72
Odom, S.L., 117 for SEN groups, 2
OECD, 55, 180, 193 for SLD, 57–60, 62, 214
Oelwein, P.L., 88 in target setting, 59
Ofsted, 185 for visually impaired children, 34–6, 37,
O’Leary, S.G., 130 214
Oliver, M., 113 pedagogy, definition influences and
Olson, M.R., 34 interpretation, 7–8
O’Malley, J., 105 Peer, L., 141
Omark, D., 100 peer tutoring, by AD/HD pupils, 131
O’Regan, F., 130, 131 Peeters, T., 113
Organisation for Economic Co-operation Pelligrini, A., 130
and Development, 55, 180, 193 perception, development, 45
Orkwis, R., 1, 112 Perry, B., 48
over-learning, factor in dyslexia person-centred planning, for curriculum,
programmes, 141 118
Ozols, E.J., 155 Peter, M., 113
Phillips, C.J., 56
Pallinscar, A.S., 102 phonological awareness, 104
Park, K., 60, 73 assessment and programmes, 140, 144
Parsons, M., 73 phonological difficulties
partial sight, definition, 26 in dyslexia, 145
Patterson, D., 83 in SLCN, 99
Pau, C.S., 20 physical activity, needs of AD/HD pupils,
Pavey, S., 30 130
Pease, 48–9 Pickering, S., 56
pedagogic adaptations Pickersgill, M., 18
‘being-with’, 172, 173 PIMD (Profound Intellectual and Multiple
and curriculum specialization, 12 Disability), definition, 67
for deaf children, 22 Pitcairn, T.K., 86, 87
pedagogic constructs, SEBD, 169 PMLD (profound and multiple learning
pedagogic strategies difficulties), 67–78
for AD/HD, 129–32, 133, 213 additional school support, 68
causes, 70 for language development in Down’s

curriculum, 75–6, 77, 208, 209, 210 syndrome, 85
definition, 67–70 research into teaching of reading,
pedagogic strategies, 70–4, 74–5, 77, 59
214 Success for All programme, 196–8
prevalence, 70 reading errors, visually impaired children,
Polatajko, H., 150, 151 34
Pollard, D., 48 reading failure, 197
Popple, J., 103, 104 Reading Recovery programme, for low
Porter, J., 47, 48–9, 54, 57, 59, 60 attainers, 194–6
Portwood, M.M., 153, 154, 155, 156, 157 reading skills
poverty computer assisted learning, 59
effect on language use, 97 deaf children, 19–20
and low attainment, 201 visually impaired children, 32–3
use of Reading Recovery programme, see also dyslexia
195 reading speed, visually impaired, 33
Powell, S., 111, 116 reading tutors, for low attainment, 196
Powers, S., 17, 19 Reason, R., 142, 144
prevalence see incidence reconstitution, executive brain function,
Prideaux, D., 157, 158 127
Pring, L., 34 Rees, R., 103
professional training and education, reflection, in development of teaching
218–20 skills, 124
Profound Intellectual and Multiple Reid, G., 138, 139, 140, 141, 142–3
Disability see PMLD Remington, B., 69, 77
profound and multiple learning research
difficulties see PMLD AD/HD, 127–8, 129–32
prompting ASD, 116–17
in PMLD, 73, 74 DCD (dyspraxia), 153–4, 157–8
in SLD, 57 deaf children, 17, 19, 20, 21–2
psycho-bio-social model deafblindness, 48
AD/HD, 128 Down’s syndrome, 84, 85, 86, 87–9, 92
SEBD, 168 dyslexia, 141–2, 143–4, 152–3
psychology of learning language learning in EAL/SLCN, 103–6
knowledge base for teaching, 212 learning difficulties, 53–4, 56–8
professional education and training, MLD, 181, 184–6
218 NLD, 154
Pumfrey, P.D., 144 pedagogical decision making, 124
pupil’s views, on special pedagogies, 183, PMLD, 69–70, 71, 72, 73, 75, 76
186 scarcity of evidence base, 5, 17, 48, 76,
Purdie, N., 128, 129, 130, 131 87, 89, 92, 157, 168, 184, 213, 217–8
SEBD, 168–9
QCA, 41, 50 and pedagogic constructs, 169–71
SLD, 61
Rack, J., 141 visually impaired children, 27, 32–4,
Ramachandran, V.S., 41 35–6
Ramus, F., 153 see also empirical evidence
Rasmussen, P., 153 residual vision, additional curriculum for
Read, G., 5 visually impaired, 30
reading resonance, in development of
and ASD, 115 communication, 46
Index 235
responsive environments, for PMLD, 71, self-knowledge, for teachers of SEN

75 groups, 211–2
Rex, E.J., 35 self-monitoring strategies, in AD/HD, 129
Reynes, S., 59 self-pacing, for AD/HD pupils, 131
Reynolds, D., 197 self-regulation, 128, 129
Reynolds, J., 9 self-stimulation, in deaf-blindness, 45
rich scripting, 105 Selikowitz, M., 83
Richards, I., 126 Seltzer, G.B., 55
Riddell, S., 186 semantic difficulties, 99
Rinaldi, W., 103 SEN categories, 3–4
Ripley, K., 156 see also special needs groups
Robbins, N., 44 SEN filters, for knowledge base, 212, 213
Robinson, P., 201 SEN groups
Roe, J., 28, 29 need for knowledge base, 211
Rogers, S.J., 114 training for teaching, 218–9
Roizen, N.J., 83 see also special needs groups
role models, for AD/HD pupils, 131 sense of agency, in child development, 46
Rourke, B.P., 154, 155 sensory deprivation, 44
Rowland, C., 72 sensory impairment
rubella, cause of deafblindness, 44 and lesson planning, 84
Rumeau-Rouquette, C., 70 neglect in teacher education, 49, 51
Russell, J., 47 see also deafblindness; deafness; visual
Russell, S., 140 impairment
Rutter, M., 11, 110, 112, 128, 167 sensory pathway integration, in
development of perception, 45
Sage, R., 128 sentence grammar, difficulties, 99
Sall, N., 56 sequential programmes, in dyslexia, 141
Sampson, O., 195 Sergeant, J., 127
SCAA, 67 SfA programme, 196–8
Scheuermann, B., 113 Sfard, A., 170
Schon, D., 124 Shea, V., 115
Schonell, F.J., 199 Sherratt, D., 113
School Curriculum Assessment Authority, sign bilingualism, 18, 20–2, 23
67 sign language, 16, 17, 18, 21, 23
school organization, effects on AD/HD Sign Supported English, 19
pupils, 132 signifiers, in work with deafblind
Schuster, J.W., 57 children, 47
Schweigert, P., 72 Silberman, C., 128
Scottish Council for Research in Sillanpa, M., 70
Education, 193 Silver, L.B., 153
Scottish Executive, 193 Simpson, R.L., 169
SCRE, 193 Sint-Michielsgestel Institute for the Deaf,
Seach, D., 116 44
SEBD (social emotional and behavioural Skilbeck, M., 9
difficulties), 166–77 Skrtic, T.M., 114, 182
curriculum, 177, 210 Slavin, R., 197–8
NLD children, 155 SLCN (Speech Language and
pedagogic strategies, 172, 176–7, 214 Communication Needs) learners,
construction, 169–72 96–107
terminology, 167–8 characteristics, 99–100
self and other, in SEBD teaching, 172–4 curriculum, 101–2, 107, 209
definition, 97 visually impaired children, 37

difficulties, 99 see also SEN groups
language development, 98–9 special needs-specific pedagogies, 5
pedagogic strategies, 101–6, 107, ‘Special Time’, communication strategy,
214 105–6
SLD (severe learning difficulties), 53–66 specialist support
cognitive difficulties, 56–7 in schools for PMLD, 68
curriculum, 210 for visually impaired, 30
definition, 55 specialist teachers, of the deaf, 17, 23
identification, 181 specialized programmes
pedagogic strategies, 57–60, 62, 214 and commonality in curriculum, 208
prevalence, 55 and pedagogic adaptation, 11–12, 12
rate of child development, 54 specific speech and language difficulties
research, 53–4, 56–8, 57–60 see SLCN
research designs, 63 Speech Language and Communication
Slee, R., 124, 128, 131 Needs see SLCN
SLI see SLCN speech and language impairments see
Smith, B., 56 SLCN
Smythe, I., 145 Spiker, D., 82
Snow, R.E., 3 Spillman, J., 183
Snowling, M.J., 138, 141, 144 Spragg, D., 30
social, emotional and behavioural SSE (Sign Supported English), 19
difficulties see SEBD SSLD see SLCN
social deprivation/disadvantage, 44–5 Stackhouse, J., 98
and low attainment, 201 Stanovich, K.E., 138
social interaction Stanovich, P., 61
difficulties, Stenquist, G, 44
in AD/HD, 126 Stephenson, J., 61
in ASD, 114 Stevens, C.B., 43
of vocabulary, 99 Stoddart, T., 101, 102–3, 104, 105–6
in Down’s syndrome, 87 Stone, J., 29
Solity, J., 4 Stoner, G., 130, 131
special education, 182 Stormont Spurgin, M., 130
special needs groups Stradling, R., 183
categories, 220 Stratford, B., 83, 86
definitions, 26, 42–3, 55, 67–70, 92–3, Stromme, P., 70
150–1, 180–1, 192–3, 206–7 Success for All programme, 196–8
nature, 206–7 Swanwick, R., 20, 21
AD/HD, 133 switches, for communication in PMLD,
ASD, 118–19 72–3, 73–4
children with PMLD, 77 Sylva, K., 195
children with SLD, 62 symbolic systems, for literacy, 60
DCD (dyspraxia), 161 syntactic boot strapping, 99
deaf children, 24
deafblind children, 50 tactile literacy codes
Down’s syndrome, 91 for visually impaired, 31
dyslexia, 146 see also Braille; Moon
EAL/SLCN, 106–7 tactual skills, additional curriculum for
low attainment, 202 visually impaired, 30
MLD, 187, 188 Tallal, P., 103
SEBD, 176 tangible symbol systems, 47
Index 237
Tannock, R., 125, 126, 127 low attainment, 203

Tansley, A.E., 195, 199 MLD, 189
target setting, for pupils with SLD, 58–9 PMLD, 69
Taylor, E., 128, 167 and psychology of learning, 212
teacher direction for AD/HD pupils, 130 SLD, 63
Teacher Training Agency, 111, 219 visually impaired children, 37
teaching see also individual differences position
additional pedagogic factors, 215
craft knowledge, 123–4, 218 Valvatne, K., 70
and curriculum, 9–10 van Berckelaer-Onnes, I., 114
emotional vulnerability of SEBD van der Meere, J., 127
teaching, 174 Van Dijk, Professor Jan, work on
factory/instruction model, 128–9, 170 deafblindness, 44, 46–7, 48
naturalistic methods, 57, 58 verbal participation, needs of AD/HD
practical theorizing, 125 pupils, 130
use of term, 207–8 vision, co-ordinating role in learning,
see also knowledge base for teaching 28–9
teaching framework, for book, 7, 8–10 Visser, J., 128
teaching materials, dyslexia, 140 visual acuity, 26
Teddlie, C., 197 visual cues, in learning, 57–8
Thacker, J, 169 visual impairment, 26–38
thematic integration, language learning additional disabilities, 27–8
and subject content, 101 causes, 27
therapeutic interventions, interface with curriculum, 29–31, 32, 37, 208, 209
teaching, 11, 30 definition and causes, 26–7
Thomas, G., 167, 185 in Down’s syndrome, 84
Thompson, R., 127 incidence, 27, 28
Tobin, M.J., 35 learner needs, 28–9
Topping, K., 143 limitations, 29
Townsend, J., 144 literacy, 31–4
training, for teaching SEN groups, 218–20 multiple disability, 27–8
Treffry, J., 42, 69 pedagogic strategies, 34–6, 37, 214
Trevarthen, C., 114 use of tactile print and audio codes for
triad of impairments, ASD, 110–11 literacy, 31–2, 33–4, 35, 38
TTA, 111, 219 see also sensory impairment
Turner, E., 144 vocabulary
TVEI (Technical and Vocational Education difficulties, 99
Initiative), 200 in metalinguistic strategies, 104–5
‘typing’ process, in pedagogical decision vocational education, 200
making, 124–5, 213 Vygotsky, Lev, influence on defectology,
43
unique differences position, 3–4, 3, 5
ASD, 113, 116 Walker, E., 27
curriculum areas and pedagogic Walker, J., 141
strategies, 212 Wang, M.C., 201
DCD (dyspraxia), 161–2 Ward, M., 113
deaf children, 22, 24–5 Ware, J., 67, 68, 70, 71, 74, 75, 88
dyslexia, 142, 143, 143, 147 Warren, D.H., 42
EAL/SCLN learners, 107 Watson, J., 72, 74, 88, 186
individual difference of deafblind Watson, L., 18, 19, 20
children, 51 Weare, K., 167
Webster, A., 28, 29 Wolff, P.H., 152

Weedon, C., 140 Wood, D., 19, 20
Weeks, S.L., 54 Woodridge, P.W., 54
Weiss, G., 126 Woods, A., 195
Weisz, J.R., 54 Wootten, M., 199
Wellesley, D., 70 working memory
Wellington, W., 103, 104 in Down’s syndrome, 85
Wells, B., 98 executive brain function, 127
Wenger, E., 170 limitations in SLD, 56–7
Werner, H., 47 World Health Organization, 55, 110, 126
Westwood, P., 195 Wormsley, D.P., 35
Whitley, J.H., 56 Wragg, E.C., 113
WHO, 55, 110, 126 Wright, I, 87
whole-school approach Wright, J., 180
for dyslexia, 142, 143 writing difficulties, strategies, 156
Success for All programme, 196–7 Wydell, T.N., 145
Willcox, A., 56
Williams, D., 114 Yando, R., 56
Williams, J.M., 87 Yang, Q., 82
Williams, P., 180, 181, 185 Yeomans, D., 200
Willis, D.S., 87 Youdell, D., 100
Wilson, J., 140 young offenders, NLD profile, 155
Wimmer, H., 153 Ysseldyke, J.E., 55
Wing, L., 110, 112
Wise, B.W., 140, 144 Zeamon, D., 54
Wishart, J.G., 82, 86, 87, 89 Zentall, S.S., 130, 131
Wolery, M., 57 Zigler, E., 54

Special Teaching For Special Children - A Pedagogy For Inclusion - (Inclusive Education) (PDFDrive)

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I n cl u s i v e E d u c a t i o n

What, if anything, is ‘special’ about teaching children with special or

SPECIAL TEACHING FOR SPECIAL CHILDREN?

Ann Lewis is Professor of Special Education and Educational

Brahm Norwich is Professor of Educational Psychology and Special

connected fields (2000) and Moderate Learning Difficulties and the

cover design: Kate Prentice

The movement towards inclusive education is gathering momentum

Current and forthcoming titles:

Ann Lewis and

Open University Press

and Two Penn Plaza, New York, NY 10121-2289, USA

First published 2005

Copyright © Ann Lewis and Brahm Norwich 2005

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 0 335 21405 3 (pb) 0 335 21406 1 (hb)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk

We are also grateful to the British Educational Research Association (BERA)

ONE How specialized is teaching pupils with disabilities

THREE Visual impairment 26

FIVE Severe learning difficulties 53

SIX Profound and multiple learning difficulties 67

SEVEN Children with Down’s syndrome 81

EIGHT English as an additional language and children

NINE Autistic spectrum disorders 110

TEN AD/HD 123

ELEVEN Dyslexia 138

TWELVE Dyspraxia 150

THIRTEEN Social, emotional and behavioural difficulties 166

FOURTEEN Moderate learning difficulties 180

FIFTEEN Low attainment 192

SIXTEEN Overview and discussion: overall conclusions 206

Paul Cooper, Professor of Education, Centre for Innovation in Raising

Brahm Norwich, Professor of Educational Psychology and Special Educational

‘Inclusion’ has become something of an international buzzword. It is difficult

Introduction and background

Must be given the opportunity to progress in the same general curriculum

Figure 1.1 Pedagogic positions: general versus unique difference positions

At the start of that review we formulated a conceptual framework, based on

‘High density’ teaching: Continua of pedagogic strategies

Table 1.1 Provisional framework of continua of pedagogic strategies

Examples of pedagogic Continua of strategies for perceived attainment levels

Provide opportunities for Explicit and teacher-led Autonomous (pupil-led)

Framework for this book

Parameters and key concepts

Figure 1.2 Teaching framework for book

Orientation of this book

Reference to the contested nature of what is common

Table 1.2 Different options for clarifying the curriculum commonality–

Option Aims/principles Areas of learning Programme Pedagogic strategies

1 Common Common Common Common

Source: based on Norwich (1991).

Table 1.3 Hypothesized relationships between curriculum specialization and

Curriculum areas and programme objectives

Common to all Specialized for some

Pedagogic A. That accept learners’ B. That aim to C. That aim to