The Rebuttal

The year is 1996. I drove for a couple of hours to meet her at her school. I was working on the National Mental Health Education Project for Young Deaf People at the time. She was 13 years old and attending a mainstream school in country Victoria. A visiting teacher supported her a few times a year. Mostly the visiting teacher worked with her classroom teachers to advise them on inclusion strategies.

I arrived at the reception and asked for her Group Teacher. The teacher was a jolly and welcoming person . It was lunchtime and the teacher led me to the quadrangle and pointed her out to me. She was sitting alone on a bench, back straight, knees together with her hands on her knees. She sat silently watching the children around her.

The teacher began to take me over to meet her. I asked for us to stand back a while. I observed her for 10 to 15 minutes. She did not move from her spot. No one sat with her. She spoke to no one, nor was she spoken to by anyone. I asked the teacher if what we were observing happened every day.  Apparently, the girl would go to the same spot every day. Eat her lunch and remain there for the duration of the break. Never interacting nor being interacted with by anyone.

Suddenly, the children began to head back to the classroom. The buzzer had gone. She had not heard the buzzer, but by observing the children around her she knew that lunch was over. She began to head back to her classroom. The teacher took me over to her and introduced me. She looked a little bit shocked, almost unprepared. With exaggerated lip movements the teacher told her that I had come to meet her and have a chat. She looked confused. I was not sure she had really understood anything that the teacher had told her. I was certain that she had no idea why I was there.

The teacher took us both to an office. She pointed to her watch and showed ten fingers three times. Fingers outstretched, fists clenched, fingers outstretched, fists clenched, fingers outstretched and then pointed to her watch. The teacher mouthed 30 minutes and pointed to the floor. Seemingly, indicating that they were to return in 30 minutes. With that she exited the office and left us alone.

The girl just looked at me wide-eyed. She looked perplexed. I pointed to myself and told her my name. “What’s your name?”. I already knew her name, but I was trying to establish a rapport. She just looked at me and did not respond. I signed slowly, “My name, G A R Y? Your name WHAT?” She slowly, and with great difficulty, misspelt her name. “M E L O N A E” which I knew meant Melanie.

I tried to have a conversation with Melanie. Do you like school? She nodded her head. “Are you happy here?” She nodded her head. “Do you like sport?”  She nodded her head. “What sport do you like?” She nodded her head. A couple more questions went in the same vein. Once she shook her head, perhaps thinking a bit of diversity would save her. I questioned her only for a short time. Her face was turning red, and she was becoming very distressed.

It became obvious to me that Melanie had severe language deprivation. She could sign a little bit but mostly this was just very simple concepts and labels. Her lipreading was minimal. She bluffed her way through communication by nodding, hoping that this would be the required response. Her way of coping most of the time was to avoid all communication. Hence, sitting on her own at lunchtime. She avoided other children and they her. In the classroom, I suspect she was just tolerated. Her isolation was extreme.

I have met many deaf kids throughout my career. They are not all like Melanie. Some are better adapted. Some have behavioural issues that result from social anxiety. Some, like Melanie, are very socially withdrawn. Many are academically delayed and not reaching their full potential. Among these students there are success stories. Nevertheless, the term mainstreaming still sends a chill down my spine as I have seen what happens to students when it does not work. Melanie is a prime example.

The common denominator for many of these students is that they are supported by visiting teachers. The visiting teachers mostly support the schools. They advise on acoustics in the classroom. They advise on hearing aid use. They advise of augmented listening and how to use it. They provide advice on inclusive strategies for deaf students. Sometimes they even have some one-on-one time with the students, but this is sporadic.  This has been my observation over the years.

The alternative for these students are learning units for deaf and hard of hearing students that are available. But if you live in the country, or if you don’t live near one of these learning units, they are not always a viable option. For many it is the mainstream or nothing. Apart from that, mainstreaming is what many parents want, they want their deaf kids in a ‘normal’ school.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not having a go at parents. Parents act on advice. Government education departments often have ‘Normalisation’ policies. Mainstreaming is largely encouraged. Sometimes it works, but when it doesn’t you can get –  well – MELANIE!

Over the years I have worked with visiting teachers. Most are wonderfully committed and dedicated to their students. But they are constrained by the fact that they are under resourced and over-utilized. There is more to education inclusion than just learning in the classroom. Those extra-curricular activities, the making of friendships, the learning from others, the constant interaction. – So many deaf students in mainstream settings miss out on this. In extreme cases you get – well – MELANIE.

So, it was with interest last week that I heard that the Victorian Government is cutting the Visiting Teacher Service. Part of me was pleased, because I have seen the damage that mainstreaming can do. I was hopeful that the Government was looking at setting up a better system. Part of me was concerned because I know that many of these visiting teachers who are being cut are extremely committed to their students and provide the best support that they possibly can. I wondered if the new support would be better or worse.

It looks to me like it is going to be worse if what The Age is saying is right. Apparently, “The proposal will reduce the number of visiting teacher jobs from 117 to 32”  That is a huge cut! Apparently, also, the remaining 32 will be known as “Inclusion outreach coaches.” AND the classroom sessions of these COACHES will be scaled back. A scary thought given that under the previous model classroom sessions were already minimal.

It looks to me that the Government is replacing an already ineffective program with a much worse one. This scares the hell out of me. Just the term Inclusion Coaches frightens me to death because my experience of school systems across Australia is that they have no clue what inclusion really means. To them inclusion is just being in the classroom. Very little thought is given to other aspects of school that include socialisation and peer learning. I can tell you now, 32 Inclusion Coaches have no hope of fixing this! EVER!

Are we about to see more Melanies??? I sincerely hope not, but I really fear that this new system will not hack it and the result will be more Melanies! Parents and educators across the state are worried. And so they should be! Let’s hope the Government rethinks this awful policy change before it is too late!