Investigating The Language of Special Education

Investigating the Language of Special Education
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Investigating the Language
of Special Education
Listening to Many Voices
Michael Farrell
Independent Consultant in Special Education, UK
© Michael Farrell 2014
Softcover reprint of the hardcover 1st edition 2014 978-1-137-43470-8
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Contents
Preface vi
About the Author viii
Introduction: The Importance of Language in Special Education 1
1 Past Voices: Historical Terminology 8
2 Present Voices: Current Language in Special Education 25
3 Grand Designs: Constructing Social Meaning 42
4 Labelling: New Labels for Old? 58
5 Disability Memoirs and Student Voice 75
6 Problematizing Meaning: Deconstruction 91
7 Immersed in Language: Discourse 107
8 Analysing Concepts in Special Education 124
9 Persuasive or Misleading Language 140
Conclusion 156
Bibliography 163
Index 173
v
Preface
Among the books that I have been fortunate enough to have published
is an introduction to the field of special education: The Special Education
Handbook (4th Edition, 2009), which defines and explains matter basic
to special education: concepts, venues, individual differences, and the
like. Educating Special Children: An Introduction to Provision for Pupils
with Disabilities and Disorders (2nd Edition, 2012) concerns provision
based on evidence-based practice and professional judgement. Debating
Special Education (2010) discusses some of the criticisms that have been
made of special education in recent years and offers responses to them.
New Perspectives in Special Education (2012) presents an overview of the
philosophical positions that have informed special education, and
approaches to disabilities and disorders. Foundations of Special Education:
An Introduction (2009) discusses disciplines such as social, medical, and
neuropsychological ones that underpin special education and empha-
sises the importance of multi-professional working. It includes a chapter
on conceptual analysis. Inclusion at the Crossroads: Concepts and Values
(2004) examines various concepts such as need, equality and discrimi-
nation, self-interest and cooperativeness, power, representation, ration-
ality and autonomy, and rights and duties. It applies these concepts to
aspects of special education, for example ‘rationality and autonomy’ is
related to the educating students with profound intellectual disability.
The book clearly concerns language and focuses of the analysis of
concepts.
Certainly the importance of language is recognised in these texts.
Other books too have examined language in relation to special educa-
tion. Corbett (1996) in Bad Mouthing: The Language of Special Needs
considers special education discourse. It draws on what appear to be
suggestions from social constructivism, Foucault and Derrida, although
the sources are not always specified. Her view is that the language of
special needs is that of ‘sentimentality and prejudice’ (Corbett, 1996,
p. 5). Another book, Disability Discourse edited by Corker and French
(1999), looks at discourse in disability studies, although some reference
is made to special education. The present book looks critically at exam-
ples of the approaches taken in Corker and French’s (1999) text, for
example the chapter by Priestley on ‘Discourse and identity’.
vi
Preface vii
It is eighteen years since Corbett’s (1996) Bad Mouthing was written;

Corker and French’s (1999) Disability Discourse appeared fifteen years
ago. My own book Inclusion at the Crossroads: Concepts and Values (2004)
was published a decade ago. All of them cover limited aspects of language
in relation to special education.
Therefore, the time seems ripe for a wider look at the language of
special education. In the present book, historical terminology, current
language, language in the social construction of special education, label-
ling, disability memoir and student voice, deconstruction, discourse,
conceptual analysis, and persuasive and misleading language are all
considered. I hope this gives the reader an overview of some of the
issues and debates around language as it applies to special education. To
help with this, the chapters have ‘Pause for reflection’ boxes suggesting
internet leads and questions. For readers who prefer, chapters can be read
coherently without reference to the internet. There are end of chapter
‘thinking points’ intended to stimulate further thought and perhaps
group discussion.
Readers worldwide kindly contact me about my books. However, the
number of communications I receive about the content of the books
have always been outweighed by ones asking after my English bulldog
‘Harry’ whose photograph has appeared accompanying me in so many
of them. After ten years of being a devoted companion, Harry died in
his sleep at home in March 2011. Comments that might enhance any
future editions would be welcomed at the email address below. (You can
also ask about ‘Archie’, my new bulldog).
Michael Farrell
Herefordshire, UK
dr.m.j.farrell@btopenworld.com
About the Author
Michael Farrell was educated in the United Kingdom. After training as a

teacher at Bishop Grosseteste College, Lincoln, and obtaining an honours
degree from Nottingham University, he gained a Master’s in Education
and Psychology from the Institute of Education, London University.
Subsequently, he carried out research for a Master of Philosophy degree
at the Institute of Psychiatry, Maudsley Hospital, London, and for a
Doctor of Philosophy degree under the auspices of the Medical Research
Council Cognitive Development Unit and London University.
Professionally, Michael Farrell has worked as a head teacher, a
lecturer at London University, and as a local authority inspector. He has
managed a national psychometric project for City University, London,
and directed a national initial teacher-training project for the UK
Government Department of Education. Currently, as a private special
education consultant, he works with a wide range of clients internation-
ally. Among the countries where he has lectured or provided consul-
tancy services are China, the Seychelles, Australia, Peru, Sweden, and
the UK.
viii
Introduction: The Importance of
Language in Special Education
Preamble
The title of this book suggests listening to many voices, but which
voices? They are calls from the past and the present. They are the voices
of students with disabilities and their parents. Teachers and other profes-
sionals, commentators, government representatives, and many others
have their say. The voices of philosophers, linguists, anthropologists,
psychologists, sociologists, and more can be heard in the following
pages.
Why is it important to study language? It is the vehicle by which
disciplines such as special education are considered and debated, and
if you are not careful, the transportation can run you into a ditch. To
take just one example, in special education and disability studies the
use of ‘isms’ is becoming popular as a shorthand indication of disliked
attitudes or views. If someone believes in the value of examinations in
which not everyone can succeed at the same level, they may be accused
of ‘ableism’. A psychologist who regards milestones as useful indicators
of typical child development may be said to be prone to ‘developmen-
talism’. Parents who choose to have their deaf child fitted with a coch-
lear implant may be practicing ‘audism’ because they are not giving the
child the opportunity to grow up and be part of what some individuals
regard as Deaf culture. Such terms close discussion of the different views
that pertain to the underlying issues and replace it with name calling, a
sort of ‘closed-minded-ism’.
In this introduction, I explain what I mean by ‘language’ and ‘special
education’. After setting out the purpose of the volume, I point out some
of its particular features, and suggest proposed readers. I outline what
the book covers in the form of questions to be addressed.
1
2 Investigating the Language of Special Education
What is language?
By ‘language’ I mean human verbal or written communication using

words in a structured way following certain conventions. I do not
specially refer to non-verbal communication such as gesture, facial
expression, and bodily posture. Neither is the book about communica-
tion that may be used by some special students such as manual sign
language, symbols, Braille, or Moon (a system of embossed lettering
used by some students with visual impairment). I examine language as
it relates to special education in various ways.
What is special education?
The nature of general education and special education

Special education is understood within the context of general education.
Philosopher of education R. S. Peters (1966) argues that the concept of
education implies ‘ ... something worthwhile is being or has been inten-
tionally transmitted in a morally acceptable manner’. For the methods
of education to be ‘morally acceptable’ learners should be able to freely
examine differing views and information, and come to a reasoned
conclusion, avoiding indoctrination. The ‘intentional’ aspect of educa-
tion distinguishes it from incidental learning as education is likely to
involve planned and structured experiences that aid learning (Ibid.).
The nature of ‘worthwhile’ content may change over time and may vary
in different cultures, but is likely to include reference to skills, knowl-
edge, attitudes, and values (Farrell, Kerry, and Kerry, 1995, p. 70). In
Soanes and Stevenson’s (2003) definition, education involves ‘ ... intel-
lectual, moral and social instruction’ through ‘ ... the process of giving
or receiving systematic instruction’ (Ibid.). Tharp’s (1993, pp. 271–272)
examples of educational methods include modelling, questioning,
and task structuring. In brief, education comprises agreed content and
acceptable methods, and is distinguishable from indoctrination and
incidental learning.
Special education is part of education in the more general sense.
What was discussed above in relation to education in general applies
to special education too. In Debating Special Education (Farrell, 2010), I
suggested the following short definition: ‘Special education concerns
provision for pupils with disabilities and disorders comprising: curric-
ulum and assessment, pedagogy, school and classroom organisation,
resources, and therapy. It aims to encourage the academic progress
and personal and social development of special children’ (Ibid., p.1).
Introduction 3
Taking this as a starting point, I will look at legal frameworks and

definitions of disabilities and disorders that will flesh out the brief
definition.
Types of disorders and disabilities

Students participating in special education are identified as having
different types of disabilities and disorders (Farrell, 2008). Some of these
imply comparisons with typical development and include intellectual
disability, communication disorders, and developmental coordination
disorder. Others (for example conduct disorder) have developmental
implications and also suggest common agreements of expected attitudes
and behaviour.
Various countries have slightly different ways of delineating disor-
ders and disabilities, and may use different terminology, although there
is considerable overlap. Some delineations, such as attention deficit
hyperactivity disorder, are harder to justify than others, for example
profound intellectual disability (Farrell, 2008b, chapter 1 and passim).
Identification may involve applying criteria relating to categorical classi-
fications (American Psychiatric Association, 2013), paediatric screening,
or the use of an agreed benchmark of typical development. Assessment
of the child and of the impact of the disability or disorder aims to
enable parents, teachers, and others to consider possible implications
for learning and development.
Special students and special educational provision

By ‘special students’, I mean children and young people with disabili-
ties and disorders leading to difficulties with learning requiring special
educational provision. The US Department of Education has defined
special education as ‘specially designed instruction ... to meet the
unique needs of a child with a disability’ (United States Department of
Education, 1999, pp. 124–125). Provision promoting the learning and
development of special students comprises of curriculum and related
assessment, pedagogy, school and classroom organisation, resources,
and therapy (Farrell, 2008b).
The school curriculum concerns the content of what is taught and
learned, including the aims and objectives of teaching and learning,
and the design and structure of what is taught in areas of learning. It
may be organised by subjects such as science or areas like social educa-
tion. Elements such as literacy, numeracy, and computer skills permeate
the whole curriculum. A special curriculum may differ from a regular
curriculum with regard to: the relative emphases of subjects and areas;
the balance of components of subjects; and the content of certain areas

of the curriculum. Attainment levels implicit in some or all subjects may
be lower than age typical. Assessment may involve small steps to indi-
cate progress in areas of difficulty (Farrell, 2008b, chapter 1), close obser-
vation of fleeting responses, or close multi-professional working with
types of ‘dynamic assessment’ (Farrell, 2006a, p. 103).
Pedagogy concerns how the teacher promotes and encourages
students’ learning, perhaps through individualised learning, group
work, discussion, audio-visual approaches, whole class teaching, and
other methods (Farrell, Kerry, and Kerry, 1995, p. 4). For special chil-
dren, the teacher may present information emphasising certain sensory
modalities or encourage the student to use particular senses. A child
with hearing impairment may learn manual sign language using visual,
spatial and motor skills, and knowledge. Approaches may be distinc-
tive to a particular disability or disorder such as ‘Structured Teaching’
(Schopler, 1997) for students with autism spectrum disorder.
School organisation may involve flexible lesson arrival and departure
times for some students with orthopaedic impairments. Safety is high-
lighted for learners with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder whose
levels of concentration may be variable and whose behaviour unpredict-
able, perhaps requiring high levels of supervision where machinery or
hazardous substances are used. Some learners who are frequently absent
from school because of medical conditions may benefit from home tuition
and emailed work supporting home study. ‘Room management’, deploying
small teams of adults to ensure maximum student participation, may be
used for learners with profound intellectual disability (Lacey, 1991).
As a resource, school building design can assist access for students
with orthopaedic impairment. Classroom design involves awareness
of space, lighting, acoustics, and potential distractions and aids to
learning. Furniture might include adjustable tables and adapted seating.
Computer technology using attractive stimuli can help the student
recognise that his actions, such as pressing a button, influence the
environment. Among physical and sensory aids, is adapted equipment
such as alternative keyboards. Resources for augmentative communica-
tion involve ways to supplement partially intelligible speech. Those for
alternative communication, other than speech or writing, are used to
widen the scope of communication (Bigge, Stump et al., 1999, p. 130).
Cognitive aids include computer software encouraging responses;
symbols for communication; and computer programmes breaking tasks
into manageable steps.
Introduction 5
Therapy can lead to changes in behaviour, attitudes and self-valuing,

and helps promote skills, abilities, and well-being. For special students, it
may include elements that are predominantly physical (aspects of occu-
pational therapy and physiotherapy),psychological (psychotherapy),
communicative (speech-language therapy), or medical (drugs).
Enhancing development and progress

Like education generally, special education is intended to enhance
students’ learning and development. Academic progress includes progress
in school subjects and areas of the curriculum, perhaps determined by
curriculum-based assessments, standardised tests, or informed observa-
tion. Development includes personal and social skills, self-esteem, and
concern for others. This may be assessed through observation in different
settings such as discussions between parents and teachers, interactions
with the student, and by other means. Where special education is effec-
tive, it encourages progress in both learning and in personal and social
development (Farrell, 2001b; 2005f).
Having sketched the parameters of language and of special education,
it is time to look at the purpose of the present volume.
The purpose of the book
Investigating the Language of Special Education: Listening to Many Voices

demonstrates how examining language enriches our understanding of
special education. Its broad purposes are twofold. Firstly, it will show the
powerful influence of language in special education, for example how
different interpretations of the meaning (mediated through language)
of people’s roles and resources can inform provision, and the influence
of positive and negative labelling. Secondly, the book will demonstrate
some of the limitations of the impact of language, deflating some over-
blown claims. Examples of these are the belief that changing language
leads to social, cultural, and attitudinal changes, or that the ‘deconstruc-
tion’ of opposite terms like ability/disability changes perceptions and
reveals fundamental flaws in meaning.
Particular features
In each chapter, I present a broad orientation to a topic before examining

the way it has been applied to special education. The chapters are struc-
tured in a similar way with an introduction, orientating information
about different approaches, descriptions and an evaluation of attempts

to apply these broad ideas to special education, and a conclusion.
‘Pause for reflection’ boxes within each chapter suggest links to
internet sources, often videos, but sometimes texts that aim to supple-
ment the chapter information and pose key questions. At the end of
each chapter are ‘thinking points’ that raise broad issues for further
thought or discussion. Also appended are ‘key texts’ which will help a
fuller understanding the topics of each chapter, and ‘further reading’
which will extend knowledge.
Proposed readers
I hope readers will include:
● Students, researchers, and teachers of linguistics and its application

to professional knowledge and understanding
● Teachers and other staff working in mainstream and special schools
● Teachers in training and lecturers who support them
● Students of and researchers in education, sociology, the language of
special education, psychology, neurology, medicine, and disability
studies
● Professionals including psychologists, speech and language patholo-
gists, occupational therapists, physical therapists, and physicians
● Parents of special students
● Anyone interested in the role of language in special education
Some key questions
The book explores various issues and questions:
● Historically, do shifts in social and cultural trends, knowledge,

and attitudes lead to changes in language; or do modifications to
language precipitate such changes? Does amending official special
education language alter attitudes and social and cultural trends?
Can interest groups shape language associated with special education
in the absence of changed social and cultural settings? In valuing
special education, is arguing for language change more effective than
tackling ignorance and negative attitudes? (Chapter 1)
● What does current special educational language such as definitions
and classification indicate about special education? How can clear
Introduction 7
communication be encouraged between students, parents, and

professionals? (Chapter 2)
● What can social constructionist views contribute to special educa-
tion? (Chapter 3)
● What implications does labelling theory have for some disabilities
and disorders? What effect can the negative labelling of students
have, can these be avoided, and, if so, how? How is special education
and special schooling sometimes negatively labelled and what might
be the response? What are the views of parents and students towards
labelling associated with special education? How might medical labels
in special education be unhelpful? (Chapter 4)
● How can disability memoirs be interpreted? How can one avoid
dismissing memoirs that fail to conform to preconceived notions?
How can the ‘voice’ of special students be encouraged, and how can
one ensure that a range of views is heard? (Chapter 5)
● What is ‘deconstruction’ and can it influence real life situations?
What are the merits and demerits of deconstructing substantial
passages of text and examining opposites such as ‘ability’/‘disability’?
(Chapter 6)
● What is the contribution to special education of Foucault’s view
that thinking and perceiving may be ideologically constrained?
(Chapter 7)
● What contribution to debate can be made by analysing concepts
associated with special education? (Chapter 8)
● How could awareness of persuasive and potentially misleading
language help debate in special education? (Chapter 9)
To begin to look at these tantalising questions and others, in the next

chapter I turn to examine how language was used in early special educa-
tion, and how it reflected the way disabilities and disorders were seen in
former periods.
1
Past Voices: Historical Terminology
Introduction
Language previously used in early special education reflects the way

disabilities and disorders were seen in former periods. This chapter
considers such historical language and looks at changes in terminology
over time in various types of disabilities and disorders, especially in the
United States and England. The chapter examines possible reasons for
name changes, such as shifting aspirations towards special students.
Historical changes
To understand the nature of historical changes, one must consider the

nature and remit of history. Essentially, history is a branch of knowl-
edge systematically examining evidence of the past. It records facts such
as events and analyses, interprets, explains, or comments on them.
Historians present empirical evidence, put forward causal arguments
and hypotheses, and offer plausible explanations of events and situa-
tions. They interrogate primary or secondary source material. Debate
circulates about the extent to which history is more scientific or artistic
in its methods. Some claim that history has much in common with craft
learning and skill development (White, 1995, p. 243).
By historical changes, I mean ones that take place over decades (or
longer) in which some kind of pattern or trend can be discerned. Changes
over time are considered to relate to intelligible shifts in the terms used
for aspects of special education and disabilities. Gradual social realisation
that deaf individuals do not invariably lack speech would be expected to
parallel a decline in the use of the phrase ‘deaf and dumb’.
8
Past Voices: Historical Terminology 9
Intellectual disability
Reports and institutions

In the US, categories of disability were amended in 1997 (20 United
States Code 1402, 1997) under federal law to be followed by ‘designated
disability codes’. These codes referred to being ‘mentally retarded’,
which is further partitioned into mild, moderate, severe, and profound
mental retardation. In England (Department for Education and Skills,
2005, passim), the equivalent terms are moderate, severe, and profound
‘learning difficulties’. South Australia (Government of South Australia
Department of Education and Children’s Services, 2007) uses the term
‘global developmental delay’. More recently, an alternative expres-
sion used in the US, as well as some other countries, is ‘intellectual
disability’.
The provision for individuals considered to have intellectual disa-
bility today involved many changes in understanding and termi-
nology. General terms such as ‘feeble-minded’, ‘mental deficiency’,
and ‘mental defectiveness’ were used. Particular levels of intellectual
disability were indicated in expressions such as ‘idiot’, ‘imbecile’, and
‘moron’.
In England, these terms are reflected in reports, commissions and acts
of parliament, and in the names of institutions. The Idiots Act passed
in 1886 allowed existing institutions to admit ‘idiot children’ if parents
wished it. Three years later, the Egerton Commission reported on the
education of the blind and the deaf and dumb, also making recom-
mendations for idiots, imbeciles, and the feeble-minded. The 1913
Mental Deficiency Act concerned the identification of ‘defective’ chil-
dren through the ‘mental deficiency committee’. An asylum for ‘idiots’
opened in Highgate in London in 1847 and another in Colchester in
1859, while the Darenth School (from 1878) provided for ‘imbeciles’.
In Sandlebridge, Cheshire, a residential school for the ‘feeble-minded’
started in 1902.
‘Mental deficiency’ and modern definitions

In England, the 1913 Mental Deficiency Act provided definitions of
‘mental deficiency’ in general and different levels of ‘deficiency’ in
particular. Mental deficiency was defined as ‘ ... a condition of arrested
or incomplete development of mind’. As well as ‘moral defective’, which
did not concern cognitive impairment, mental deficiency comprised the
categories: idiot, imbecile, and moron.
Today, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) (2013, pp. 33–41)

characterises ‘intellectual disability’ by ‘deficits in general mental abilities
such as reasoning, problem solving, planning, abstract thinking, judge-
ment, academic learning, and learning from experience’ (Ibid., p. 31).
These deficits lead to impairments in ‘adaptive functioning, such that the
individual fails to meet standards of personal independence and social
responsibility in one or more aspects of daily life ... ’ (Ibid.). Intellectual
disability is described as including both intellectual and adaptive func-
tioning deficits ‘in conceptual, social and practical domains’ that start
(have their ‘onset’) during the developmental period (Ibid., p. 33).
Reference is also made to recreational activities and vocational skills.
Classifications of mental deficiency: ‘Idiot’ and

modern definitions
Under the 1913 Mental Deficiency Act, ‘idiots’ experienced ‘mental
defectiveness of such a degree that they are unable to guard themselves
against common physical dangers’.
Echoes of the functional description of a hundred years earlier are heard
in the current definition of ‘profound intellectual disability’ provided by
the APA (2013). For example, in the practical domain, the individual is
‘dependent on others for all aspects of daily physical care, health, and
safety’, but may be able to participate in some of these activities. He may
help with some daily work tasks at home, such as ‘carrying dishes to the
table’, and participate in some vocational activities (with high levels of
ongoing support) through a basis of simple actions with objects (Ibid.,
p. 36). In England the term ‘profound and multiple learning difficulties’
is used.
Classifications of mental deficiency: ‘Imbecile’ and modern

terminology
An ‘imbecile’ under the 1913 Act was a person ‘ ... in whose case mental
defectiveness, while not amounting to idiocy, is yet so pronounced that
they are incapable of managing themselves and their affairs, or in the
case of children, they are incapable of being taught to do so’.
In the US, current classification describes moderate to severe intel-
lectual disability (APA, 2013, pp. 33–41). For example, with regard to
moderate intellectual disability, in the conceptual domain, concep-
tual skills are ‘markedly’ behind those of peers. For preschoolers, this
refers to language and pre-academic skills; for those of school age, it
encompasses progress in reading, writing, and mathematics. For adults,
academic skills development is typically at an ‘elementary level’ and
support is necessary for all use of academic skills in ‘work and personal
life’ (Ibid., p. 35).
Where there is severe intellectual disability, generally all domains
are more effected. For example, in the practical domain, the individual
requires support for ‘all activities of daily living, such as meals and
dressing, and requires “supervision at all times”’, being unable to make
responsible decisions regarding the well-being of self or others. Long-
term teaching and continuing support are needed for the individual to
acquire skills in different domains. Maladaptive behaviour ‘including
self-injury’ occurs for a significant minority (APA, 2013, p. 36).
In England, the term ‘severe learning difficulties’ is used to refer to the
range from moderate to severe intellectual disability.
Classifications of mental deficiency: ‘Moron’ and modern

terminology
Under the Mental Deficiency Act, a ‘moron’ was a person who was
mildly mentally defective. The parallel term in England is ‘moderate
learning difficulties’, while in the US the term is ‘mild intellectual disa-
bility’. Current guidance (APA, 2013) states that in the social domain,
in comparison with peers, the individual is ‘immature in social inter-
actions’, and communication, conversation, and language are ‘more
concrete or immature’. The individual may have difficulties ‘regulating
emotion and behaviour in age-appropriate fashion’. There is ‘limited
understanding of risk in social situations’ and ‘social judgement’ is
immature for the person’s age. The individual is at risk of being ‘manip-
ulated by others’ (Ibid., p. 34).
Subsequent acts and reports relating to cognitive impairment

In England, the Handicapped Pupils and School Health Service
Regulations of 1945 replaced the expression ‘mentally defective’ with
‘educationally subnormal’, indicating that the child was statistically
below the typical performance of other children of the same age in
education. Children who were ‘severely subnormal’ were the responsi-
bility of health authorities and were considered ineducable in schools.
They tended to be provided for at home or in subnormality hospitals,
training centres, or special care units.
Under the Education (Handicapped Children) Act 1970, responsi-
bility for such children was transferred to local education authorities.
The children were then considered ‘educationally subnormal – severe’
to distinguish them from other children in the educationally subnormal
category who had become ‘educationally subnormal – moderate’. The
terms ‘profound learning difficulties’, ‘severe learning difficulties’,

and ‘moderate learning difficulties’ continue to be used in England
(Department of Education and Skills, 2005).
Visual impairment
In the US, the ‘designated disability codes’ include ‘visually handi-

capped’ and the England has a similar classification (Department for
Education and Skills, 2005, passim) that includes ‘visual impairment’.
South Australia uses the term ‘sensory disability (vision)’ (Government
of South Australia Department of Education and Children’s Services,
2007).
The expression ‘blind’ has persisted over many years. The definition
of blindness is that level of sight loss requiring the predominant use of
non-sighted methods for reading, for example the use of Braille or Moon
(a system of embossed letters). Terminology has reflected the increasing
accuracy of assessments of vision so that ‘visual impairment’ is used as a
broad term that includes blindness, as well as lesser loss of vision known
as ‘partial sight’ or ‘low vision’.
One such assessment is that of visual acuity. Distance vision is
commonly tested using the Snellen test chart, consisting of letters,
numbers, or pictures arranged in rows of descending smallness.
Assuming letters are used; each row is designed to be recognised at a
certain distance by a person with normal vision, say 60, 36, 24, 18, 12,
9, 6 or 5 metres. If a child stands 6 metres from the chart and can read
all the letters down to the row typically read at 6 metres, vision is said
to be 6/6. Should he only be able to read to the row typically read at
18 metres, while standing 6 metres away, visual acuity is 6/18. This
range of visual acuity represents normal vision. If the child is unable
to read the top line of the chart (typically readable at 60 metres) from
6 metres away, vision is less than 6/60 and the test is continued at a
shorter distance. Should he be able to read the top line from 3 metres
away, 3/60 is recorded. This range of worse than 6/18, but better than
or equal to 3/60, represents ‘low vision’. If visual acuity in the better eye
is 3/60 or worse the individual may be registered ‘blind’ (Candy, Davies
and Ross, 2001, p. 105).
As well as distinctions in degree of sight, terms also historically
reflected one’s ability to work (being ‘industrious’). The year 1765 saw
the opening of the Asylum for the ‘Industrious Blind’ in Edinburgh,
Scotland. Another distinction was whether blind individuals were poor
and needy (‘indigent’). In 1791, Henry Dannett founded the School for
the Instruction of the ‘Indigent Blind’ in Liverpool, England.
Hearing impairment
Regarding ‘hearing impairment’, previously the terms ‘deaf and dumb’

and ‘deaf-mute’ were used. A book arguing for early education for deaf
children written by John Arrowsmith, published in 1819, was called
The Art of Instructing the Infant Deaf and Dumb. The Royal Cambrian
Institution for the Deaf and Dumb opened in 1847 in Aberystwyth,
Wales. There was an adult Deaf and Dumb Institute in Manchester,
England. It is unclear whether the assumption linking ‘deaf’ and ‘dumb’
was that deaf children would tend to be unable to speak or whether the
term referred to individuals who were deaf and who did not use widely
intelligible spoken language. In any event, as sign language was devel-
oped enabling deaf people to communicate, and as developments such
as cochlear implants allowed deaf children to be able to ‘hear’ spoken
language, the supposed link between ‘deaf’ and ‘dumb’ was eroded.
In the US, ‘designated disability codes’ include ‘hard-of-hearing’ and
‘deaf’. In England, the classification (Department for Education and Skills,
2005, passim) is ‘hearing impairment’, while in South Australia the termi-
nology is ‘sensory disability (hearing)’ (Government of South Australia
Department of Education and Children’s Services, 2007). Sometimes, the
word ‘Deaf’ in written form is given an initial capital letter. This signals
that the user considers deafness to imply a sense of community with other
deaf people, and a shared culture and set of beliefs about themselves and
society linked to the historical and current use of sign language.
Pause for reflection
Celebrating Deaf culture and the notion of cure
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘The World of Deaf Culture’. Watch
part 1 of the video.
What are the main points made about not assuming deafness to be negative?
How do you respond to the accounts of difficulties of some of the contributors
using spoken language when they find sign language much more effective to
communicate?
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Jesus heals at deaf and dumb school
Ghaziabad, India’.
Watch the video.
The pastor tells the students, ‘Those who cannot hear yet don’t give up’.
Is there an assumption that a ‘cure’ is the best thing for these students?
What evidence is there of improvements in the students’ hearing?
Is there any way to reconcile the views depicted in these two videos?
Physical disability
In England (Department for Education and Skills, 2005, passim) and

in South Australia (Government of South Australia Department of
Education and Children’s Services, 2007), the term ‘physical disability’
is used. US ‘designated disability codes’ distinguish between ‘orthopedi-
cally impaired’ and ‘other health impaired’.
What today might be called physical disability was formerly referred
to by terms such as ‘cripple’ and ‘physically defective’. The Cripples
Home and Industrial School for Girls opened in 1851 in Marylebone,
London. The Lord Mayor Treloar Cripples Hospital and College opened
in Alton, Hampshire, England in 1908. The Cripples Training College
(later renamed the Queen Elizabeth College for the Disabled) opened
in Leatherhead, Surrey, England in 1934. The 1945 Handicapped Pupils
and School Health Service Regulations replaced the expression ‘physi-
cally defective’ with ‘physically handicapped’.
As the term ‘physical disability’ became current, some disability
studies writers began to refer, with an ironic tone, to ‘crips’ echoing the
‘crippled’ of earlier usage. It was, perhaps, thought that using a term that
had become objectionable pre-empted its negative use by others towards
individuals with physical disabilities.
Autism spectrum disorder
‘Autism’ comes from the Greek word ‘autos’ meaning ‘self’. Swiss psychi-
atrist Eugen Bleuler used the word to refer to a group of symptoms in
schizophrenia. Leo Kanner described ‘autism’ as the behaviours of
several children attending his unit, who had limited interest in other
people, odd language, insistence on routines, and repetitive behaviour
(Kanner, 1943). The implication is that the individual is isolated within
the self. In some early texts, the expression ‘Kanner syndrome’ is used in
recognition of the American psychiatrist’s contribution. Autism was also
known as ‘childhood schizophrenia’ echoing Bleuler’s usage.
Hans Asperger (1944) first described behaviours that have come to
define Asperger’s syndrome. Its identification and assessment, like
autism, incudes evaluations of social interaction and behaviour, but,
unlike autism, does not require that the child experience a commu-
nication deficit in the same way. Children identified with Asperger’s
syndrome do not appear to differ regarding clinical or neurological vari-
ables from children with intelligence within the normal range and diag-
nosed with autism (Mackintosh and Dissanayake, 2004). Consequently,
there was debate about whether Asperger’s syndrome is best considered

a separate syndrome.
In the US, ‘designated disability codes’ refer to ‘autism’, while in
England (Department for Education and Skills, 2005, passim) school
data guidance refers to ‘autistic spectrum disorder’. South Australia
(Government of South Australia Department of Education and Children’s
Services, 2007) uses the term ‘autistic disorder or Asperger’s disorder’.
More recently it has become common to refer to autism, Asperger’s
syndrome and related conditions as being on a continuum, and the
expression ‘autistic spectrum disorder’ is used. It is sometimes said that
a student is ‘on the autistic spectrum’ or the ‘autism spectrum’. The
Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Fifth Edition (DSM-5)
(APA, 2013) uses the expression ‘Autism spectrum disorder’.
Medical history of autism spectrum disorder
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Medical history of autism a CBS news
video’.
Watch the video.
What did ‘refrigerator mother’ mean in the 1950s?
How have responses to autism spectrum disorder changed since that time and
what factors have been involved?
Emotional and behavioural disorders
Historically, in England there was reference in regulations following

the Education Act 1944 to students being ‘maladjusted’, suggesting that
social factors played a part. The environment might be such that any
child would find it difficult to adjust to it. Being ‘maladjusted’ to a poor
environment might be more the result of background than the child’s
response. However, if the environment seemed benign, the child might
be poorly adjusted to it for more ‘within child’ reasons.
In the US, ‘designated disability codes’ refer to ‘emotionally disturbed’.
In England (Department for Education and Skills, 2005, passim) school
data guidance mentions ‘behavioural, emotional and social difficul-
ties’. Within the broad area of ‘emotionally disturbed’ are several condi-
tions. Included among these are ‘conduct disorder’ and ‘oppositional
defiant disorder’, ‘anxiety disorder’, and ‘depressive disorder’. Each is
considered to have different implications for provision (Farrell, 2010).
Attention Deficit Hyperactivity disorder is classed as an emotional and

behavioural disorder in England while it is considered a health condi-
tion in the US.
Communication disorders
Certain disorders of communication take their name from historical

references. Expressive aphasia, which involves loss of the ability to
produce spoken (or written) language, is also known as Broca’s aphasia
after the French physician Pierre Paul Broca (1824–1880). He reported
speech impairments in two patients who had lost the ability to speak
after injury to part of the brain (the inferior frontal gyrus), and the
approximate area has come to be known as Broca’s area.
Some areas of speech and communication difficulties have termi-
nology that developed relatively recently. ‘Semantic pragmatic disorder’
was proposed by Rapin and Allen in 1983 to describe the communica-
tion of children who appeared overly talkative, chose atypical terms, and
had inappropriate conversational skills. The term referred to a group of
children with mild autism and semantic pragmatic language difficul-
ties. More recently, the term ‘pragmatic language impairment’ has been
suggested.
Broadly, in the US, ‘designated disability codes’ refer to ‘speech and
language impaired’. In England (Department for Education and Skills,
2005, passim) guidance refers to ‘speech, language and communication
needs’. South Australia (Government of South Australia Department of
Education and Children’s Services, 2007) uses the term ‘speech and/or
language disability’.
Specific learning disorder
What is termed ‘specific learning disorder’ in the US and ‘specific learning

difficulties’ in England, concern problems with reading, written expres-
sion, and/or mathematics, and sometimes coordination.
Historically, the trend appears to be away from Greek related medical
sounding terms such as ‘dyslexia’, ‘dyspraxia’, dyscalculia’, and
‘dysgraphia’ to the expressions ‘reading disorder’, ‘coordination disorder’
(or developmental coordination disorder), ‘mathematics disorder’, and
‘disorder of written expression’. Sometimes the term ‘dysgraphia’ is
limited to describing difficulties with handwriting.
The ‘designated disability codes’ in the US refer to ‘specific learning
disability’.
The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Fifth Edition

DSM-5™ (APA, 2013) refers to specific learning disability with impair-
ment in reading, written expression, or mathematics. In England
(Department for Education and Skills, 2005, passim), school data guid-
ance refers to ‘specific learning difficulties’ (e.g. dyslexia, dyscalculia,
dyspraxia)’. South Australia (Government of South Australia Department
of Education and Children’s Services, 2007) uses the term ‘intellectual
disability’.
Deafblindness
In the US, ‘designated disability codes’ refer to ‘deaf/blind’. In England

(Department for Education and Skills, 2005, passim) guidance refers to
‘multi-sensory impairment’.
Changes in terminology over time relate to debates about whether
the expression should be ‘Deafblind’ or ‘deaf-blind’ or ‘deaf blind’. The
combining of the words into Deafblind suggests that the sum of deaf-
ness and blindness is greater than its constituent parts. To some extent,
deafness might be compensated by sight, and to some degree, blindness
might be helped by hearing. But where there is effectively no sight or
vision, this complementarity is not available.
Delicate students
Search the internet for ‘The Open Air Schools of Bristol and Gloucester’
Read the article by ‘The Open Air Schools of Bristol and Gloucester’ by J. S.
Duckworth.
Note the reference to ‘delicate’ children. What did this term mean?
Why were children with infectious disease not in school and why might ‘deli-
cate’ children have been a low priority for some schools?
Other terms
In the early twentieth century, ‘delicate’ children may have experienced

malnutrition and debility, and were educated in open air schools where
the emphasis was on good health. ‘Epilepsy’, once considered a category
of disability, is now part of the wider umbrella of health conditions.
As well as the broad areas used in special education, the terminology
used for particular disorders and disabilities may change over time.
Down syndrome is named after John Langdon Down, who closely

described the condition in the 1860s. Down used the term ‘mongoloid’
to describe the condition from the viewpoint that children with the
condition were considered to have facial similarities to people of the
Mongolian race, as described by Blumenbach, a German physician and
anthropologist. ‘Mongol’ and ‘Mongoloid idiot’ were terms used until
the 1960s. In 1961, a number of geneticists wrote in the medical journal,
The Lancet, that ‘Mongolian idiocy’ was both misleading and embar-
rassing, and should cease to be used. The World Health Organisation
dropped the term in the 1960s. In the US, the Mongoloid Development
Council became the National Association for Down syndrome in 1972.
The expressions ‘Mongol’ and ‘Mongolism’ are now considered anthro-
pologically inaccurate and pejorative.
It is one thing to examine apparent trends of changes in terminology,
but quite another to explain why it is that terms have changed. So what
are the reasons?
Changing aspirations and responsibilities regarding

special students
In England the passing of the Education (Handicapped Children) Act

1970 signalled raised aspirations for students with intellectual disability.
Before then, the responsibility of students with, what we would now
call, profound and severe to moderate intellectual disability fell to the
health services. They might have been placed in hospitals where there
could access provisions such as occupational therapy. They might be at
home where evidence of the extent to which they received a suitable
education was sparse and very limited. Some students were taught in
‘training centres’ which often concentrated on teaching and encour-
aging social and self-help skills.
It is sometimes said that children with profound and severe to
moderate intellectual disability were not considered to be able to
benefit from education in England before that time. In fact, some
education was offered, but provision was patchy. Nevertheless, the
Education (Handicapped Children) Act 1970 embodied the expecta-
tion that all such children could benefit from education by transfer-
ring responsibility for them from the health services to the education
system. This signalled that the provision for these students would
be predominantly educational, rather than largely concerned with
care. In this sense, the change suggested higher aspirations for
education.
With regard to deafness, the phrase ‘deaf and dumb’ is no longer used.
As deaf sign language spread and medical developments such as coch-
lear implants enabled some deaf individuals to learn speech more easily,
the link between deafness and being unable to speak or communicate
in other ways became less tenable. A combination of interventions and
higher expectations increased the understanding that a deaf person
could learn to communicate. The changes in aspirations preceded and
led to the changes in terminology. As it became clear that deaf students
could learn speech, the term ‘deaf and dumb’ became not just obsolete,
but incorrect.
Differing interpretations of within child and

environmental factors
Another reason for changing terminology lies in different interpreta-

tions of the respective contribution within the child of social and
environmental factors. Terms such as ‘imbecile’, ‘idiot’, ‘moron’, and
‘subnormal’ may suggest that the impairment is predominately within
the child. In England expressions such as, ‘profound learning difficul-
ties’ and ‘severe learning difficulties’ refer to the process of learning. This
allows an interpretation that some of the issues of education relate to
the child (within child). It also indicates that the learning environment
or the wider social environments are influential. These terms open the
possibility of a contribution from a social view of intellectual disability,
as well as a more individual psychological one. Educationally, too, such
terms indicate the importance of educational and other provision.
Some of the older terms better indicated the influence of the envi-
ronment than newer ones, however. The term ‘maladjusted’, used in
England in the 1970s and 1980s, conveyed that there were problems
with the student’s adjustment to the social setting. This (may have)
assumed that the social setting was fine, but that the student was not
adjusted to it properly. If so, the task of teachers and others was to help
the student to become better adjusted. The term also allowed for the
possibility that the student was poorly adjusted to social expectations
because his immediate family and social background were at odds with
the wider expectations of society. Family and immediately surrounding
social groupings might be antisocial, so in one sense the student was well
adjusted to this limited culture, but consequently at odds with wider
social expectations. The expression ‘maladjusted’ allowed such possibili-
ties and other interpretations of the relationships between the student,
the family, the immediate social groups, and wider society. These were
not conveyed by the terms that replaced ‘maladjusted’. For example,

the expressions ‘emotionally and behaviourally disturbed’, ‘conduct
disorder’, ‘anxiety disorder’, and ‘depressive disorder’ do not immedi-
ately suggest a social influence (although of course there are such influ-
ences), but rather point to within child explanations.
Some differences in terminology reflect different professional perspec-
tives. A physician may use the term ‘treating’ when referring to autism. A
teacher may talk of ‘providing’ for a child with autism spectrum disorder.
Medical perspectives find their way into descriptions of certain disorders.
In the US, a specific learning disorder with impairment in reading can be
described in medical and non-medical terms. A child with impairment
in reading may be ‘treated’ or ‘educated’. He may attend a ‘clinic’ for
‘diagnosis’ or may go to a ‘centre’ to be ‘assessed’. A further indication
of changes away from mainly medical viewpoints and towards psycho-
logical and other perspectives is evident in changes from medical terms
in some countries. Instead of the Greek and medical sounding ‘dyslexia’,
the term ‘impairment in reading’ may be used. ‘Dyscalculia’ may be
more commonly spoken of as ‘impairment in mathematics’. ‘Dyspraxia’
becomes ‘developmental coordination disorder’.
Generally, the medical terms have tended to assume a more within
child view, while educational terms have tended to include environ-
mental factors, as well as individual ones. Historical shifts have tended
to move away from medical terminology, but not to reject it entirely.
This has been parallel with a move from the medical supervision of iden-
tification, assessment, and intervention of special students to psycho-
logical perspectives, which have some features in common with medical
perspectives, but are more orientated to education.
Language reflected change rather than precipitated it. Gradually, it
was recognised that there could be a shift from provision emphasising
care but including education, or training to provision that emphasised
education but included care. As this perception took hold, it became
feasible that students previously the responsibility of the health services
could become the responsibility of the educational services. Changes
in terminology towards such expressions as ‘profound/severe/moderate
learning difficulties’ followed the social and cultural change, and was
endorsed at the official and political level.
Changing terms and negative connotations
In England and elsewhere, when terms such as ‘idiot’, ‘imbecile’, and

‘moron’ were introduced, there is no evidence they were designed to
disdainful. They appear to have been meant as aids to classification indi-

cating the degree of intellectual disability. When first used, they were
seen as scientific terms that would help categorise mental deficiency for
care and safety purposes. Recall that under the 1913 Mental Deficiency
Act, ‘idiots’ were individuals whose ‘mental defectiveness’ was such that
‘they are unable to guard themselves against common physical dangers’
(italics added). Also, an ‘imbecile’ was a person for whom ‘mental defec-
tiveness ... is yet so pronounced that they are incapable of managing
themselves and their affairs, or in the case of children, they are incapable of
being taught to do so’ (italics added).
The contemporary negative connotations of the terms ‘idiot’, imbe-
cile’, and ‘moron’ seem to reflect negative attitudes towards the indi-
viduals whose levels of intellectual disability the words were intended to
describe. Although the Mental Health Act 1959 replaced these terms in
England with expressions like ‘severe subnormality’ and ‘subnormality’,
as time passed, these too became negative. This happened despite the
terms supposedly starting out as neutrally indicating intellectual func-
tioning statistically below the ‘norm’ in the whole population. It remains
to be seen what the shelf life will be of the more recently adopted terms:
‘severe learning difficulty’, ‘profound and multiple learning difficulty’,
and ‘moderate learning difficulty’.
Following the Education Act 1944, regulations cited categories of
‘handicap’. These were: blind, partially sighted, deaf, partially deaf, deli-
cate, diabetic, educationally subnormal, epileptic, maladjusted, physi-
cally handicapped, and speech defect. Regulations and Acts also referred
to ‘handicap’. They included the Handicapped Pupils and School Health
Service Regulations of 1945 and the Education (Handicapped Children)
Act 1970. Following the Warnock Report (Department for Education and
Science, 1978), the Education Act 1981 replaced the previous catego-
ries of handicap with a broader definition of ‘special educational need’.
Accordingly, in the Education Act 1996 the definition is that: ‘a child
has special educational needs ... if he has a learning difficulty which calls
for special educational provision to be made for him’ (Education Act
1996, section 312).
By 1989, only ten years after the Warnock Report, it was suggested that
the term ‘special educational needs’ had become anachronistic (Pumfrey
and Mittler, 1989). The expression has been criticised by some commen-
tators who believe that special schools are ‘segregating’. It is maintained
the expression can ‘ ... create and maintain mind-sets that perpetuate
segregation’ (Mittler, 2000). The term ‘special’ is seen as anachronistic
and ‘discriminatory’ (Ibid.). Children with special educational needs,
it is suggested, are only special because ‘ ... so far the education system
has not been able to meet their needs’ (Ibid., p. 9). The word ‘needs’
has been taken to indicate dependency, inadequacy, and unworthiness
(Corbett, 1996).
Corbett (1996) expresses a desire to get rid of the word ‘special’ inti-
mating this will have to involve nothing less than ‘a major reconceptu-
alisation of what constitutes humanity’ (Ibid., p. 84). If only ‘diversity
and difference’ were ‘valued and celebrated’ then we would all become
special, ‘yet none of us so special that we are more or less than human’
(Ibid.). Mittler (2000) stops short of requiring a reconceptualisation
of humanity and merely suggests that ‘special’ might be replaced by
‘exceptional’, but this too he recognises has limitations and is likely to
be short lived (Ibid., p. 10).
In the US, where the terms profound, severe, moderate, and mild
mental retardation were used, the expression ‘retard’ became (for some)
a term of abuse. When speaking of special students, the term ‘excep-
tional children’ is sometimes used. One meaning of ‘exceptional’ is of
outstanding talents or abilities. Another meaning is being ‘untypical’
or unusual. Both meanings are combined in the sense that statistically
a child with intellectual disability is exceptional, just as is a child with
very high ability. Consequently, the term ‘exceptional’ is used for an
individual with intellectual disability, as well as for an exceptionally
talented student. So when someone asks in what area is the child ‘excep-
tional’, it has to be explained that the child has an intellectual disability.
The term ‘exceptional children’ in seeking to avoid negative connota-
tions becomes evasively euphemistic.
The view that negativity comes more from attitudes towards indi-
viduals with disabilities and disorders, rather than from terminology,
corresponds with an account of terminology in India. There, according
to Ghia (2002), the ‘influence’ of the World Health Organisation
and the United Nations led to changes in expressions used to define
disabling conditions. Words such as ‘retarded’, ‘crippled’, and ‘lame’
were officially replaced by terms like ‘mentally challenged’, ‘visually
impaired’, and ‘physically impaired’. If the key determinant was the
language that was used, this might be expected to lead to changes in
perceptions of individuals concerned. But this did not happen. Ghia
(2002) states that, ‘In spite of this change in language, the social and
cultural perception of society did not undergo change’ (Ibid., p. 92).
At an official level language may be changed, but this does not alter
perceptions and attitudes.
Conclusion
Historical language used in early special education reflects how disa-

bilities and disorders were seen in earlier times. It did not set out to
demean, and any negative connotations of earlier terms have gener-
ally been acquired subsequently. This is apparent in looking at histor-
ical changes in labels for specific types of disabilities and disorders, as
well as in examining general terminology. Possible explanations for
name changes include changing aspirations towards special children,
changing emphases on the balance of within child and environmental
factors, and improvements in knowledge. These factors may have worked
together in different combinations with regard to particular disabilities
and disorders.
Yet for each, changes in terminology appear to have followed social
and other changes, not created them. Changes in practice, professional
responsibilities, aspirations, and gains in knowledge may be subse-
quently reflected in new terminology, including ‘official’ terminology.
Furthermore, changing terms itself does not appear to change any nega-
tivity towards individuals with disabilities and disorders, otherwise name
changes would not have to continue. Changes in perceived negative
terminology did not make perceptions more positive. The underlying,
continuing issue does not concern language so much as social factors,
such as negative perceptions and attitudes, and ignorance.
If all this is correct, then historical evidence does not support the view
that one should try to manage the terms society uses so that what people
think and do becomes modified too. It is not negative connotations
of language that leads to negative perceptions, but the reverse (Farrell,
1998, pp. 16–17). This suggests that the priority should be working to
change negative attitudes and challenging ignorance through providing
evidence, rather than trying to change terms. It should give pause to
those who suggest that connotations, attitudes, and behaviour can be
altered by changing the words that are used.
Thinking points
Readers may wish to consider:
● The extent to which changes in special educational terminology can

be related to each of the factors discussed (e.g. changing aspirations
towards special children).
● Any other factors that may lead to changes in special educational

terminology over time.
Key texts
Farrell, M. (2004a) Special Education: A Resources for Practitioners London, Sage.
Chapter 2 of this book concerns historical changes in terminology relating to
special education.
Kauffman, J. and Hallahan, D. P. (Eds) (2011) Handbook of Special Education New
York and London, Routledge.
Chapter 1 ‘A History of Special Education’ provides an engaging account of some
developments including a section on the work of Elizabeth Farrell in New York
City.
Further reading
Safford, P. L. and Safford, E. J. (1996) History of Childhood and Disability NY, New
York, Teachers College Press.
The focus of this history is especially the US and Europe.
2
Present Voices: Current Language
in Special Education
Introduction
This chapter reviews terminology associated with education and special

education, and provides examples of jargon, specialist terminology, and
acronyms. I look at legal definitions of disabilities and special educa-
tion, and the very precise use language, for example through layered
(often legal) definitions. The chapter examines definitions of particular
disorders and disabilities, using examples from the US, Australia, and
England. I discuss scientific language in relation to special educational
provision and research.
The importance of examining current terminology
Terminology refers to the terms used ‘ ... with a particular application

in a subject of study’ (Soanes and Stevenson, 2003). It is not about the
general use of words, but their particular application in a specific field,
although general and specific usage may overlap. Terminology helps
delineate an area of study. In special education, it is helpful to famil-
iarise oneself with such terms.
Internet sites offering basic dictionary type definitions include:
www.lcisd.org/Administration/Instruction/Specialprograms/images/
DictionaryofSpecialEducationalTerms.pdf. Encyclopaedias, dictionaries,
or handbooks tend to provide more detailed explanations, examples are
A to Z guides to special education generally (Farrell, 2009a), and hand-
books relating to particular types of disabilities and disorders or groups of
disorders such as ‘behavioural and emotional disorders’ (Farrell, 2011a).
As well as shaping an area of study, terminology may constrain the
way issues are expressed and thought about, a notion popularised in
25
recent times by the French historian of thought, Michel Foucault, whose

work and influence is discussed in a later chapter. This constraint arises
because terminology can be taken for granted and consequently may
go unquestioned. It may be assumed that because there is a term such
as ‘attention deficit hyperactivity disorder’ (ADHD) that an unques-
tioned condition exists securely delineated by the term. In fact, there
is vigorous debate around ADHD and the usefulness of the expression
(Farrell, 2011a, pp. 86–91).
Terminology associated with education and special

education
Different disciplines and areas of study have associated concepts and

terminology. In education, important topics are: ‘accountability’,
‘authority’, ‘autonomy’, ‘citizenship’, ‘creativity’, ‘democracy and
schools’, ‘egalitarianism’, ‘elitism’, ‘experience’, ‘knowledge’, ‘needs’,
‘play’, ‘rationality’, and ‘understanding’ (Farrell, Kerry and Kerry, 1995).
With potentially contentious issues, it is important to be clear about
related concepts, for example, ‘inclusion’ or ‘standards’ (Farrell, 1999,
pp. 99–102, 176–180) or ‘discipline’ and ‘partnerships’ (Farrell, 2001a,
pp. 34–38, 72–77). Relatedly, philosophers of education examine terms
such as ‘indoctrination’, ‘training’, and ‘education’, and the important
differences between them. School psychology may involve the under-
standing and use (or rejection) of expressions such as ‘readiness’, ‘intelli-
gence’, and ‘personality’. In child development, ‘maturation’, ‘potential’,
and ‘environment’ are central notions.
An impression of special education terms can be gained through
various broad headings. Concepts include: ‘access’, ‘barriers’, ‘care’,
‘difficulty’, ‘disability’, ‘disorder’, ‘equality of opportunity’, ‘impair-
ment’, ‘inclusion’, ‘needs’, ‘special’, and ‘progress’. Among disciplines
associated with special education (Farrell, 2009a) are neurology, child
development, pedagogy, and medicine. Venues may be a special school,
resource room, hospital, or mainstream/ordinary school. Roles and
responsibilities can be those of teachers, therapists, and psychologists.
Examples of individual differences are autism spectrum disorder, Rett
syndrome, and traumatic brain injury. Provision embraces functional
skills, life skills, adaptive equipment, Braille, multisensory environ-
ments, and the use of symbols.
Some special education terms require clarification. In England, a
‘resource room’ tends to be a storage space for learning materials. In
the US, it is a study room in a mainstream school that special students
Present Voices: Current Language in Special Education 27
might use as a teaching base for some or most of the school day.
Confusion can arise where words have a regular meaning, but convey
something different in a special education context. Speaking of ‘accom-
modation’ may not mean a new classroom, but may instead refer to
adjustments made for learning such as alterations in the way materials
are presented, or changes to the task demands, or conditions to address
difficulties in learning. If terminology is explained where it differs from
the everyday, the meaning should be clear. But the greater the use of
specialist terminology shading into jargon, the higher the threat to clear
communication.
Specialist terminology and jargon
Specialist terminology may be used by speech-language pathologists/

therapists, school psychologists, teachers, occupational therapists, and
physicians. Areas of special knowledge may use very specific terms. A
neuropsychologist studying specific learning disorder with impairment
in reading may take particular interest in the ‘planum temporal’ an area
of the brain implicated in phonologically related problems with reading
(Beaton, 2004, pp. 180–190). The use of the exact term is necessary to
identify a specific brain area. There is no reason why this term should
arise in day-to-day discussions. Such terms can be viewed as specialist,
but not as jargon because there are no every day alternatives. Where
there is an equivalent every day term, specialist language can shade into
jargon.
Jargon is obscure communication. It tends to be verbose and char-
acterised by fashionable words and phrases and by euphemism, and
may be used to confuse and mislead. Given that different professions
are involved in special education, the risk of jargon increases whether
medical, psychological, or sociological. Such terminology may not be
known to parents or other professionals. Where specialisms are involved,
shorthand language may develop among professionals of which others
not immersed in special education may be unaware. This can give the
impression of exclusiveness in the negative sense.
There may be discussion of a ‘developmental curriculum’ which means
a curriculum that takes account of very early aspects of child develop-
ment and tends to be part of the overall curriculum for students with
profound cognitive impairment. ‘P scales’ (performance scales) may be
consulted in England to assess small steps of very early development
such as being able to follow something that is moving within one’s line
of sight. ‘Structured teaching’ may be used with students with autism
spectrum disorder, and refers to a very specific programme which is not

simply as one might suppose teaching that is systematic. ‘Switches’ are
items that respond to being touched, and may give rise to a pleasing
sound or visual display that encourages a student to interact with the
immediate environment.
In some of these examples communication may be muddied because
the listener (incorrectly) believes they know what the term means.
Structured teaching is just one example which might be taken to mean
simply systematic teaching, but which might be being used in its special-
ised sense. Such expressions have the potential to be quite misleading
because they employed differently to regular usage.
For anyone reading documents from countries other than their own,
terminology can be confusing. What is called ‘intellectual disability’
in the US (APA, 2013) is ‘learning difficulties’ in England. In the US,
‘specific learning disorders’ with ‘reading impairment’, ‘mathematics
impairment’, or ‘impairment of written expression’ are known in some
other countries as (respectively) ‘dyslexia’, ‘dyspraxia’, and ‘dysgraphia’.
There is also discussion about whether the apparently equivalent terms
are synonymous.
For historical research, readers need to be aware of changes in terms
over time and their modern equivalents. Students that were once termed
‘delicate’ in England, may be said to have ‘health impairments’ today.
Acronyms
Acronyms abound. As far as procedures are concerned, there may be talk

of IEP meetings referring to Individual Education Plans/Programmes
that are developed for special students to help ensure suitable provision
is in place and that progress is monitored and sustained.
Conditions may be described as acronyms. TBI refers to traumatic
brain injury, ADHD to attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, CP to
cerebral palsy, and SDD to Significant Developmental Delay. Others
include ASD for Autism Spectrum Disorders, and FAS for Fetal Alcohol
Syndrome. HI is Hearing Impairment, while VI is Visual Impairment.
MD refers to Multiple Disabilities, and an alternative is MH for Multiply
Handicapped. OCD is Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and SLI is Speech-
Language Impairment. SLD refers to ‘Specific Learning Disorder’ in the
US, but to ‘Severe Learning Difficulty’ (moderate to severe intellectual
disability) in England.
The titles of laws relating to special education are often turned into
acronyms, for example in the US, IDEA is the Individuals with Disabilities
Education Act. A Government organisation concerned with special

education is OSERS (the Office of Special Education and Rehabilitative
Services), while OSEP is the Office of Special Education Programs.
Regarding provision, APE is Adaptive Physical Education. PECS is the
Picture Exchange Communication System, a commercial resource for
helping communication, AT is Assistive Technology, and LRE refers to
the Least Restrictive Environment. PBIS refers to Positive Behavioural
Intervention and Supports. RtI concerns Responses to Interventions
and is an evidence-based approach. AAC is Alternative Augmentative
Communication. ABA is Applied Behaviour Analysis. Within the area of
assessment, FBA is Functional Behavioural Assessment.
Turning to different professions and services, an OT is an Occupational
Therapist or Occupational Therapy. PT is Physical Therapy. In England,
an EP is an Educational Psychologist (school psychologist in the US).
Those new to special education may take time to absorb these acro-
nyms. A parent of a special child may be new to both terms and acro-
nyms. For acronym lists, some of which are linked to explanatory
sites, see www.dpi.wi.gov/sped/acronym or www.nichcy.org/families-
community/acronyms.
Legal terminology in special education
Designated disability codes and entitlement to

special education in the US
Examining the legal terminology of the US, Australia and England will
illustrate some of the similarities and differences of these countries, and
indicate the attempt through legal language to bring precision to issues
such as entitlement to special provision.
To receive special educational provision covered by US federal law, a
child has to have a ‘disability’. Categories of disability under federal law
as amended in 1997 (20 United States Code 1402, 1997) are reflected
in subsequent ‘designated disability codes’. These include: Hard-of-
hearing, Deaf, Speech and Language Impaired, Visually Handicapped,
Emotionally Disturbed, Orthopedically Impaired, and Traumatic Brain
Injury.
As well as the categories covered by the disability code, an amendment
to the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act 1997 allows states
and local districts to use a different category for pupils aged 3 through
9 years. These children may be defined as having a disability if they have
a ‘developmental delay’ in one of more of the areas of physical, cogni-
tive, communication, social, or adaptive development.
While the first step towards entitlement is the identification of a ‘disa-

bility’, this in itself does not entitle a child to special educational provi-
sion. The child must be deemed also to require special education because
the ‘disability’ has an adverse educational impact. For example, the defi-
nition of traumatic brain injury in the US Code of Federal Regulations
states that it is ‘ ... an injury to the brain caused by an external force,
resulting in total or partial functional disability or psychosocial impair-
ment or both, that adversely affects the child’s educational performance ... ’
(34 CFR, section 300.7 [c] [12], italics added).
Special education legislation and language
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Introduction to special education

Wisconsin’.
Watch the video prepared by the Wisconsin Statewide Parent-Educator
Initiative and the Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction.
Notice the language of the legally supported five step process of referral, evalu-
ation, Individual Education Program, placement, and annual review.
Is the language used about the process shaped by the quasi legal nature of the
language and the need for precision? Are there elements of a medical perspec-
tive in the language and, if so, to what extent are they necessary?
Search the internet for ‘Basics of special education’ (www.youtube.com/
watch?v=bnE79CvT3).
Watch parts 1 through 3 of the video discussion.
Both videos concern law in the US.
If you know about special education law in other countries, what are the main
similarities?
Categories and entitlement to special education in Australia

Within the Commonwealth of Australia, individual states have been
instrumental in the development of special education, and continue to
have a strong role including in developing and maintaining related poli-
cies. For example, states vary in the proportion of special pupils educated
in mainstream regular classrooms, special classrooms and special schools
(Reynolds and Fletcher-Janzen, 2004, p. 97). Consider the State of South
Australia.
The Government of South Australia Department of Education and
Children’s Services (2007) provides criteria for various disorders and
disabilities. These are:
● autistic disorder or Asperger’s disorder

● global developmental delay
● intellectual disability
● physical disability
● sensory disability (hearing)
● sensory disability (vision)
● speech and/or language disability
The guidance distinguishes between the criteria that indicate a type of

disability or disorder (for example physical disability) and its impact,
referring to the criteria as the ‘impairment’ and the educational impact as
the ‘disability’. To gain access to support through the State’s programme,
the school must provide evidence of both impairment and disability as
defined. Subsequently and as necessary, speech pathologists and guid-
ance officers determine eligibility for the Disability Support Program
using the impairment and disability criteria detailed in the guidance
booklet coupled with information provided by schools (Ibid., p. 1).
The ‘disability criteria’ for global developmental delay is that ‘There
must be documented evidence of the ways in which the student’s global
developmental delay does, or will, impact significantly on progress in
the curriculum and on his/her ability to participate in learning activities
and other aspects of school life’ (Ibid., p. 3).
Disability standards
Visit the site of the Australian Association of Special Education at www.aase.

edu.au.
Click on ‘documents’ on the left side of the page. In this section look under
‘Disability Standards’. Then click of ‘Disability Standards for Education 2005’
(for example the teachers’ version).
What are the sorts of terms that appear regularly in this document? (For
example ‘rights’, ‘responsibilities’, ‘discrimination’, ‘opportunities’).
How are these terms further qualified?
What exactly do they mean in the context of the document?
Entitlement to special educational provision in England

To be entitled to special educational provision in England, a child is iden-
tified as having ‘special educational needs’. A child or young person has
special educational needs if they have a learning difficulty or disability
which calls for special educational provision to be made for them. A

child of compulsory school age or a young person has a learning diffi-
culty or disability if they:
a. have a significantly greater difficulty in learning than the majority of

others of the same age
b. have a disability which prevents or hinders them from making use
of educational facilities of a kind generally provided for others of the
same age in mainstream schools or mainstream post-16 institutions
c. a child under compulsory school age has special educational needs
if they fall within the definition at (a) or (b) above or would so do if
special educational provision was not made for them
(Clause 20 Children and Families Bill, 2013)
A child is disabled if he is blind, deaf or dumb, suffers from a mental

disorder of any kind, or is substantially and permanently handicapped
by illness, injury or congenital deformity, or such other disability as may
be prescribed (section 17 (11) Children Act 1989). Under the Equality
Act 2010 section 6, a person has a disability if they have a physical or
mental impairment which has a substantial and long-term adverse effect
on their ability to carry out normal day-to-day activities.
If parents disagree with certain aspects of the procedure for identi-
fying students with ‘special educational needs’, they can appeal to a
Special Educational Needs and Disabilities Tribunal.
Special educational needs and disability Tribunal, England
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Special Educational Needs and Disability
Tribunal chapter 1 UK’.
This gives access to videos of the process of a tribunal which hears appeals
from parents and others about ‘special educational needs’ processes.
You will find chapters 1 through 5. Watch the videos.
Note examples of legal language ‘justice’, ‘appeals’, ‘judge’, ‘fair hearing’,
‘working within legislation’, and other examples.
To what extent is such language inevitable given that the tribunal deals with
disagreements within a legal framework?
Are there times when you consider the process and its vocabulary might be
straying away from core concerns about assessment and provision for students
with disabilities and disorders?
What might be alternatives?
Common features and differences in the language of legal

requirements
As the examples of the US, Australia, and England show, there are
certain common features in the approach and the language of legal enti-
tlement. In each country, there is first step of identifying a disability or
disorder, and then establishing evidence that this has a negative effect
on the education of the student. The most explicit way in which this is
expressed is in legislation in England where the layered nature of the
legal definition is clear. In the US, there are ‘disability codes’ that are
supplemented by descriptions and definitions. Similarly in the state of
South Australia, there are agreed definitions of the disability or disorder
concerned.
In England, a new version of a Code of Practice (Department for
Education, 2014) provides advice for local education authorities, main-
tained schools, and others on their responsibilities towards all children
and young people with ‘special educational needs’. Its full title gives
an impression of its coverage. It is the Special Educational Needs Code of
Practice: For 0–25 Years: Statutory guidance for organisations who work with
and support children and young people with SEN. The Code covers much
that is welcome including strong efforts to involve students in decision
making and in their provision. Parental involvement and partnerships
between different services are encouraged. The guidance covers ages
from birth to the age of 25 years.
Yet, opportunities are missed to bring much needed clarity to provi-
sion. The Code mentions ‘needs’ and ‘meeting needs’ without specifying
what the supposed needs are, why they are considered to be needs, and
how anyone would know if and when those needs were met. The Code
links the identification of special educational needs to pupils’ attain-
ment and progress, but fails to clearly define types of disabilities and
disorders.
A school can identify pupils requiring ‘additional SEN support’.
Teachers are expected to differentiate more carefully between those who
need support to catch up, and those who need a more tailored approach
to address a specific special educational need that is affecting learning.
The local authority can agree on a 0 to 25 years Education, Health, and
Care plan setting out the support that education, health, and care serv-
ices will provide for children and young people.
The Code regularly refers to pupils’ attainment, achievement, and
progress, and improving access to learning and the curriculum. At
worst, this allows a school to ‘find’ students with supposed ‘special
educational needs’ because the learners are progressing slowly and
attaining poorly. Schools can equate low standards with supposed

special educational needs, thereby not recognising poor teaching or
other problems. The concept of ‘special educational need’ risks allows
schools to use ‘needs’ as an excuse for poor provision. Relatedly, schools
can be confused about what particular disabilities and disorders are
(Norgate, 2011).
Where an Education, Health, and Care plan is agreed, there is likely
to be an indication of the nature of the disability or disorder the child
experiences. However, the absence of national agreement defining types
of disabilities and disorders compromises the consistency, validity, and
the reliability of such judgements. The weakness of this view that there
is a continuum of ‘needs’ in the absence of legally supported classifica-
tions of disabilities and disorders, has been recognised to the extent that
previous government documents have sketched out some characteristics
of some disorders and disabilities (Department for Education and Skills,
2005). Also, there have been attempts to develop local and even regional
criteria, but these tend to be isolated.
The language of definitions of disabilities and disorders
Having looked at the language associated with legal eligibility for

special provision, we can now focus on the language of definitions of
the disabilities and disorders that are identified in connection with such
provision.
For example, in the US, in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of
Mental Disorders Fifth Edition DSM-5™ (APA, 2013, pp. 33–41) ‘intel-
lectual disability’ (intellectual developmental disorder) is character-
ised by ‘deficits in general mental abilities such as reasoning, problem
solving, planning, abstract thinking, judgement, academic learning,
and learning from experience’ (Ibid., p. 31). The deficits lead to impair-
ments in ‘adaptive functioning, such that the individual fails to meet
standards of personal independence and social responsibility in one
or more aspects of daily life ... ’ (Ibid.). These are further specified in
criteria and guidance.
Turning to South Australia, ‘global developmental delay’ under
the impairment criteria is demonstrated by evidence that shows two
results. Firstly, ‘general intellectual ability two or more standard devia-
tions below the mean on a standardised individual test of intelligence
or other evidence of significantly delayed intellectual development
should the student’s disabilities prevent standardised assessment’.
Secondly, ‘a score of two or more standard deviations below the mean
on a standardised assessment of adaptive behaviour for the composite

score or in at least two of the following areas: communication skills, self-
care, home living, social and/or interpersonal skills, use of community
resources, self-direction, leisure, and health and safety’ (Government
of South Australia Department of Education and Children’s Services,
2007, p. 3).
In England, despite the attempts to present ‘special educational needs’
as non-categorical and the subsequent confusion this generates, govern-
ment guidance developed for school data collection gives an indication
of what is meant by ‘profound and multiple learning difficulties’. It states
that these pupils have ‘ ... severe and complex learning needs, in addition
they have other significant difficulties, such as physical disabilities or a
sensory impairment. Pupils require a high level of adult support, both
for their learning needs and also for personal care. They are likely to
need sensory stimulation and a curriculum broken down into very small
steps. Some pupils communicate by gesture, eye pointing or symbols,
others by very simple language. Their attainments are likely to remain
in the early P scale range (P1–P4) throughout their school careers (that
is below level 1 of the National Curriculum)’ (Department for Education
and Skills, 2005, p. 7). The guidance refers to levels ‘performance scales’
(‘P scales’). The relevant levels (P1–4) begin with generic aspects of devel-
opment such as that pupils ‘encounter’ and ‘show emerging awareness’
of activities and experiences, and extend to emerging understanding
relatable to areas such as mathematics and communication, for example
that they are aware of cause and effect in familiar mathematical activi-
ties (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 2001a, 2001b, 2001c and
later amendments).
The examples above indicate an attempt at a scientific approach to
defining disabilities and disorders and later to identify students who
experience them. These definitions are made with reference develop-
ment and behaviour, which imply criteria for measurement, assessment,
and judgements about differences from an agreed norm.
Definitions relating to legal entitlement are developed by psycholo-
gists and others, and may change from time to time. The criteria for
attention deficit hyperactivity disorder are questioned by some. It is
debated to what extent this disorder is a condition and to what degree
it is related to social and cultural factors, such as a highly stimu-
lating environment, or the mislabelling of uncooperative behaviour.
Regarding autism as a continuum (autism spectrum disorder), concern
has been expressed that the expanded definition feeds considerable
over identification.
Definitions of autism spectrum disorder
Search the internet for ‘Parents fear new definition of autism Australia’.
Read the article.
What are the reasons given for the possible over identification of autism?
What are the arguments supporting a view that there is no such over
identification?
Scientific language and special education practice and

research
In the context of teaching, Spear-Swerling and Sternberg (2001), in

‘What science offers teachers of reading’, point out that science is char-
acterised by:
● Gathering evidence through systematic observation and testing

● Claims that are open to falsification
● Evidence submitted to critical peer review by the scientific
community
● Maintaining the greatest objectivity possible
● Evaluating alternative interpretations of data or phenomena
● Evaluating a cumulative body of evidence (Ibid., paraphrased).
The importance of a scientific approach is indicated in the views of the

Commission for Scientific Medicine and Mental Health (www.csmm.org),
an organisation that scientifically examines unproven alternative medi-
cine and mental health therapies. It criticised the appointment of a leading
proponent of ‘facilitated communication’ to the appointment of Dean of
the School of Education at Syracuse University (Commission for Scientific
Medicine and Mental Health, 2005). In a statement, the Commission indi-
cated that facilitated communication claims to allow ‘mute’ and otherwise
linguistically impaired individuals with autism to communicate. However,
‘ ... numerous carefully controlled and peer reviewed studies provide exten-
sive and convincing evidence against FC’. Its apparent success is owing to
‘facilitators’ unintentional control over the individual’s hand movements’.
Several academic and professional bodies have issued policy statements
advising against the use of facilitated communication for autism. The state-
ment is expressed as might be expected in terms of ‘carefully controlled
and peer reviewed studies’ and ‘convincing evidence’.
Special education accepts that disorders and disabilities are describable

as discrete phenomena and can be meaningfully identified, assessed,
and classified. It concerns approaches that can be linked to particular
disabilities and disorders in evidence-based practice. Special education
seeks and uses evidence of approaches that lead to academic progress,
and personal and social development.
There are many examples of evidence-based practice. Regarding ‘direct
code instruction’, Foorman and colleagues (1998) assessed the reading
development of 285 children in first and second grade in 66 classrooms
in several Title 1 schools in Texas who scored in the lowest 18% on an
early literacy assessment. Three programmes were compared with the
standard curriculum for the district. One programme provided direct
instruction in letter-sound correspondences and practice decoding text
(direct code). The second provided less direct instruction in letter-sound
correspondences embedded in authentic literature samples (embedded
code). Implicit instruction in the alphabetic code while children read
authentic text (implicit code) constituted the third programme. Children
in the direct code approach, especially ones entering with the lowest
levels of phonological awareness, showed better word identification
skills and steeper learning curves in word reading than children experi-
encing the implicit code instruction.
Concerning disruptive behaviour disorders, ‘Parent-Child Interaction
Therapy’ (Eyberg, Boggs and Algina, 1995) aims to teach the parent
how to develop a warm, responsive relationship with their child and
to teach the child suitable behaviour. Firstly, parents develop non-di-
rective play skills intended to improve the quality of the child-parent
relationship. Next, within the play interaction, the parent learns to
guide the child’s play with direct instructions to establish consistent
consequences (praise for compliance and time out for noncompliance).
At the therapy centre, parents take turns to interact with the child
behind a one-way mirror while being coached by the therapist via an
ear microphone. The interactions are later extended to home. In an
early study (Eyberg, Boggs and Algina, 1995), children’s behaviour in
the treatment group fell from the clinical range for disruptive behav-
iour disorder to the normal range for behaviour. Classroom behaviour
also improved. A waiting list control group experienced no change.
Subsequent studies have tended to confirm the success of the approach
(Funderburk et al., 1998).
All this is conversant with a positivist stance (Sasso, 2001; Kauffman,
1999; Kauffman and Sasso, 2006). However, identifying, implementing,
and evaluating practices that are scientifically valid and effective pose
considerable challenges. Evidence-based practice can inform the way

forward, but other dimensions are also relevant, including professional
judgement, and the views of the child and family.
Positivist research can yield replicable approaches, for example, find-
ings can be challenged and modified in the light of future findings and
evidence. Naturally, where experimental evidence is used to inform more
practical approaches, care has to be taken that the strategy is followed
properly and those who might benefit and properly identified. For many
examples of evidence-based practice and professional best practice
regarding the curriculum, pedagogy, use of resources, school and class-
room organisation, and therapy, please see Farrell (2012a). For extensive
therapeutic examples, please see Fonagy, Target, Cottrell, Phillips and
Kurtz (2005) and Gurman and Messer (2003).
One argument against positivism in the social sciences is that a scien-
tific approach is suited to the material world, but may not be applicable
to the study of human individuals. It may be considered that human
‘nature’ or conduct is so complicated and so susceptible to unfore-
seen motivations that a scientific approach is out of its depth. Human
behaviour and thought are of course enormously complex, but it may
be overly pessimistic to think a scientific approach may not lead to
insights and findings of great importance. Indeed, evidence emerging
from neuropsychology, including brain imaging, is elucidating disorders
such as specific learning disorder with impairment in reading (Beaton,
2004, passim).
Socal and Bricmont (1998) recognise the particular challenges that
emerge in taking a scientific approach to human sciences. They see
that ‘ ... many special (and very difficult) methodological issues arise in
the social sciences’. They arise from several sources, for example ‘from
the fact that the objects of enquiry are human beings (including their
subjective states of mind) and ‘that these objects of inquiry have inten-
tions (including in some cases concealment of evidence or the place-
ment of deliberately self-serving evidence)’. Furthermore, ‘the evidence
is expressed (usually in human language whose meaning may be
ambiguous), and ‘the meaning of conceptual categories (e.g. childhood,
masculinity, femininity, family, economics etc.) changes over time’.
Also, ‘the goal of historical inquiry is not just facts but interpretation’
(Ibid., p. 270).
It is important to recognise when scientific type terminology is used
with justification, and when it might be employed too loosely. Phrases
such as ‘associated with’ can be misleading. Certain neuroimaging may
be found when students experience severe difficulties with reading. If
it is reported that these are ‘associated with’ specific learning disorder

with impairment in reading, there may be an assumption that the brain
activity, or lack of it, represented by the brain imaging is causally related
to the reading disorder. This may not be correct. There may be a third
factor connecting the brain imaging and the reading problem. The third
person reporting of research may create a sense of detachment and
authority that makes what is said more credible than if informal first
person language was used.
Implications for special education of the language of

law and categorisation
The language of law and categorisation mirrors the importance in

special education of a positivist viewpoint. The use of jargon and
acronyms is a reminder that communication between professional,
parents, and others can be hindered if jargon is not avoided or at least
explained.
The influence of positivism is apparent in evidence-based practice
concerned with ‘evidence’, ‘observation’, ‘testing’, ‘falsification’, ‘peer
review’, ‘objectivity’, and ‘data’. ‘Classification’, ‘assessment’ and, where
possible, ‘experimental evidence’ all speak of a scientific or at least an
evidence-based approach to special education. The language of current
terminology, including definitions in education and special education is
informative about the way disabilities and disorders and special educa-
tion are viewed and structured. It conveys a framework in which students
are assessed according to categories of disabilities and disorders, and
range of interventions is used involving a wide range of professionals.
Conclusion
Legal definitions of disabilities and special education attempt to use

language precisely. Concerted attempts have been made to define partic-
ular disorders and disabilities, although this is a continuing process.
Scientific and positivist language is often associated with discussions of
special educational provision and research reflecting legal and defini-
tional approaches and issues. In addition, and perhaps reflecting this,
the terminology associated with education and special education in
common with that of many areas of study and practice has its share of
jargon, specialist terminology, and acronyms.
However, it is especially important in special education to avoid
jargon, acronyms, and other hindrances to clear widely understood
communication. This is especially relevant in helping develop under-

standing and direct communication between participants in special
education who may have different views and perspective: students,
parents, teacher, and other professionals.
Thinking points
Readers may wish to consider with regard to special education:
● The extent to which special education can be characterised as an

predominantly positivist discipline reflected in scientifically orien-
tated language
● Ways in which scientific language and orientation might enable and
clarify evidence-based practice or might limit viewing students with
disabilities and disorders as complex individuals.
Key texts
Farrell, M. (2009) Foundations of Special Education London, Wiley.
This includes a consideration of the terminology used in special education as well
as examining a range of disciplines contributing to it.
Farrell, M. (2011) (4th Edition) Special Education Handbook New York and London,
Routledge.
The book provides in A to Z format definitions and discussion of a wide range of
terms used in contemporary special education and related fields.
Fonagy, P., Target, M., Cottrell, D., Phillips, J. and Kurtz, Z. (2005) What Works
for Whom? A Critical Review of Treatments for Children and Adolescents New York,
The Guilford Press.
An example of a text often using scientific language in reviewing of therapeutic
interventions demonstrated to be effective with children and adolescents.
Further reading
Kaufman, J. M. and Hallahan, D. P. (Eds) (2011) Handbook of Special Education New
A current and comprehensive overview of the issues, practicalities, and concerns
of special education.
Addresses and internet sites

For further information about current developments in special education in the
US see:
The Office of Special Education and Rehabilitation Services www.ed.gov/about/

offices/list/osers/;
The National Dissemination Center for Children with Disabilities www.nichcy.
org;
Exceptional Children www.cec.sped.org; and
The Council for Exceptional Children www.cec.sped.org.
For further information on provision and systems in South Australia see:
The websites of the Disability Information and Resource Centre, Adelaide (www.
dircsa.org.au) and
The Government of South Australia Department of Education and Children’s
Services (www.decs.sa.gov.au).
For information about contemporary developments in special education see the
Australian Association of Special Education (www.aase.edu.au).
An insight into current issues in the Australian Capital Territory is provided by a
review of the state, Catholic, and independent sectors (Shaddock, MacDonald,
Hook, Giorcelli and Arthur-Kelly, 2009). For information about special educa-
tion in various states see ‘aussie educator’ (www.aussieeducator.org.au/
education/specificareas/specialeducation/).
More information on the special education system in England can be found at
the website of The National Association for Special Educational Needs www.
nasen.org.uk.
3
Grand Designs: Constructing
Social Meaning
Introduction
Meaning and language play a key role in symbolic interactionism

which concerns the way meaning is believed to be shaped by our
social interactions with others. This chapter considers the notion of
‘meaning’, in its social context, touching on the nature of sociology
with examples of sociological perspectives to indicate the positioning
of symbolic interactionism. After examining the foundational work of
Cooley, Blumer, and Mead, I consider the role of language in symbolic
interactionism.
Regarding special education, the chapter examines the way value is
ascribed to personal perspectives, and the view that we ‘bestow’ meaning
on objects, people, situations, and behaviour. I consider the difficulties
of deciding between different constructions and interpretations, as well
as other challenges. Finally, the chapter suggests practical implications
of symbolic interactionism for special educational provision.
Some understandings of ‘meaning’
The term ‘meaning’ relates to ‘significance’ or ‘sense’. One definition of

‘meaning’ is to provide a synonym either in a single word or a synony-
mous or explanatory phrase. The meaning of the term ‘love’ would be
explained as ‘adoration’ or ‘feelings of deep affection for someone.’ Both
lexical meaning (concerning vocabulary) and grammatical meaning (to
do with word order and other features) contribute so that the meaning
of a sentence ‘ ... is determined partly by the meaning of the words (i.e.
lexemes) of which it is composed and partly by its grammatical meaning’
(Lyons, 1996).
42
Grand Designs: Constructing Social Meaning 43
Social context, experience, and relationships between speaker and

listener are all influential in conveying meaning. Also, meaning is
enriched if we know the values and connotations of a word or phrase.
The word ‘dog’ might mean something quite different to a dog lover
than to someone who dislikes canines. Meaning can refer to mutual or
agreed understanding of an intended message as when I say something
and your response shows you have grasped my meaning. With irony,
sarcasm, or understatement, meaning cannot be read off by analysing the
exact separate meanings of words because the totality transcends what is
directly said. In these cases, meaning depends on a sophisticated under-
standing of social context. Meaning may be conveyed non-linguistically
through worried glances or pregnant silences.
As we will see later, in a sociological context, ‘meaning’ in a theory
of symbolic interactionism has a strong social context. It refers to the
development of identity and values in a social setting. Before exploring
this, it is necessary to briefly consider the nature and scope of sociology
itself.
What is sociology?
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘introducing sociology online classroom’.
Watch the video.
Which brief definition is most pertinent in your view?
Which examples of sociological thinking do you consider to be most
relevant?
The nature of sociology
Sociology is a social science concerning the study of human social

behaviour including the origins and development of human society, its
organisation, and institutions. Lawson and Garrod (2003) define soci-
ology as ‘ ... the study of individuals in groups and social formations in a
systematic way’. In the Britannica Concise Encyclopaedia it is the ‘science
of society, social institutions, and social relationships’. More specifically,
sociology is ‘the systematic study of the development, structure, interac-
tion, and collective behaviour of organised human groups’. Historically,
it has been said that sociology ‘grew out of the search for understanding
associated with the industrial and scientific revolutions of the 18th and
19th centuries’ (Ibid.).
The vision of Auguste Comte, a founding figure, was that sociology

would produce knowledge of the laws of the social world on a par with
those of the hard sciences. Other major contributors to the modern
discipline are Karl Marx, the German philosopher, economist, and social
thinker; and Max Weber, the German philosopher and political econo-
mist. Equally important are Emile Durkheim, the French sociologist;
and George Herbert Mead, the American philosopher, psychologist and
sociologist (Scott and Marshall, 2009, p. 719).
The foci of sociology range from the level of individual ‘agency’
and interaction to the level of social structure and systems. Indeed,
it is considered that all human activity can be examined in terms of
individual agency and its interaction with social structure. Among
sociology’s numerous areas of interest are social stratification, social
institutions, the family, deviance, culture and sub-culture. Sociological
investigation has been applied to law, health, crime, and religion. It uses
empirical methods of investigation and critical analysis to gain knowl-
edge of human social activity. Qualitative and quantitative techniques
may be employed involving statistical analysis, interviews, surveys, and
participant observation. Researchers may intend their findings to influ-
ence welfare and social policy or be more concerned with developing
theoretical understanding.
Where sociology focuses on a certain area such as crime, aging, or
education, it applies its principles and methods to that area. A journal of
‘Sociology of Education’ (Sage) is described as publishing ‘research that
examines how social institutions and individuals’ experiences within
these institutions affect educational processes and social development.’
This research ‘ ... may span various levels of analysis, ranging from the
individual to the structure of relations among social and educational
institutions’ (www.soe.sagepub.com/). The sociology of language is
concerned with the inter-relationships of language and society. It is
interested in how language use affects social interactions, how different
kinds of language use develops in different social and occupational
groups, and the relationships between language and status.
The scope of sociology
One view is that the proper object of study for sociology is social struc-
ture. This concerns ‘patterns of relationships which have an independent
existence, over and above the individuals or groups that occupy posi-
tions in these structures at any particular time’ (Scott and Marshall,
2009, p. 720). A version of this approach developed by Talcott Parsons,
the American sociologist, has to do with systems, sub-systems, and

role structures. This so-called ‘structural-functionalist view’ (Parsons,
1952) focuses on structure and equilibrium in society. Structures are
considered to interact with each other so that each performs a positive
function. In special education, those who value the structures that help
identify, assess, and provide for special students might emphasise their
positive function. However, those who do not value these structures,
perhaps regarding them as oppressive, would disagree. Criticisms of a
structural-functionalist perspective include that it may underplay the
existence of conflict. It may also be too optimistic about social structures
having positive functions. Thomas Skrtic (1995a) offers a postmodern
criticism of a functionalist position.
If structuralist perspectives are seen as giving too much credence to the
stability of society, conflict approaches focus on the struggles between
groups with different views and vested interests. Weber (1972) explores
the conflicts between different groups over resources, power, and status.
The dominance of one group over another can arise in various ways, and
authority is an important aspect of dominance in this view. Regarding
special education, one could examine its historical development and
related economic, social and, political circumstances. Researchers might
consider how some group interests can permeate the special education
system and how particular groups can shape the structures for their
own benefit. Potential conflicts may be examined between different
lobby groups seeking recognition and resources for say specific learning
disorder with impairment in reading or attention deficit hyperactivity
disorder. Grounds of conflict between different professional groups
might be examined. Along similar lines, a ‘radical structuralist’ view
of special education is presented by Tomlinson (1995) and by Sleeter
(1995).
A further viewpoint in sociology is that the proper object of study is
collective representations. This concerns ‘meanings and ways of cogni-
tively organising the world which have a continued existence over and
above the individuals who are socialised into them’ (Scott and Marshall,
2009, p. 720). An influential figure in this tradition is Emile Durkheim.
Language is a central concern. Certain structuralist and poststructuralist
work including discourse analysis may be seen as part of this tradition.
Another tradition associated with Max Weber makes the object of
sociology meaningful social action (Scott and Marshall, 2009, p. 720).
This can be studied through concern with rational action and rela-
tionships between beliefs and actions. Also important is the concern
of symbolic interactionists with the ‘production, maintenance, and
transformation of meanings in face-to-face interactions’. An associated

mode of enquiry is the ethnomethodological study of ‘the construc-
tion of social reality through linguistic practices’ (Scott and Marshall,
2009, p. 720). (Ethnomethodology is a branch of sociology concerning
conventions that underpin day-to-day social interactions). The symbolic
interactionist view is a focus of the remainder of the present chapter.
Symbolic interactionism
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘context is everything symbolic

interactionism’.
Watch the video of a world class musician playing violin in an American
subway station.
To what extent does context affect views of this music?
Given that few people appear to be listening, how convincing is the social
experiment?
Are there other possible observations or demonstrations that you think might
convey the same message, perhaps relevant to special education?
The origins and development of symbolic interactionism
Symbolic interactionism has been defined as a ‘social psychological

theory which focuses on the ways in which meanings emerge through
interaction’ (Scott and Marshall, 2009, p. 750, italics added). Its main
concern has been to ‘analyse the meanings of everyday life, via close
observational work and intimate familiarity’. From such analyses, it
seeks to ‘develop an understanding of the underlying forms of human
interaction’ (Ibid., italics added). American pragmatism contributed to
symbolic interactionism so that they have several common features.
These include avoiding hard distinctions between mind and matter, or
between society and the individual (Reynolds, 1995, p. 19). The devel-
opment of symbolic interactionism may be traced through the contribu-
tions of Cooley, Mead, and Blumer.
Charles Cooley taught economics and sociology at the University of
Michigan and emphasised the role of others in how humans develop
their concept of self. His notion of the ‘looking glass self’ (Cooley,
[1902]/1983) suggests that individuals in part regard themselves as they
believe others see them. Self-concept involves an interaction between
the way we see ourselves, and the way we think others perceive us and
evaluate us. It is built up in close groups that Cooley called ‘primary
groups’. These groups include the family and play groupings, and are the
source of one’s ideals and morals (Cooley, [1909]/1998). Cooley regarded
an individual and society as different aspects of the same phenomena.
While philosopher, George Herbert Mead, of the University of
Chicago, wrote many articles, he published no books. Posthumously,
books were collated from his lectures in social psychology and other
sources. In Mind, Self and Society ([1934]/1967), Mead explores how
individual minds and selves arise from social processes. He considers
social processes to be prior to the processes of individual experience,
and that mind arises within the social processes of communication.
Communication processes involve the ‘conversation of gestures’, which
have an unconscious effect, and language, in which communication
takes place through significant symbols. While Mead did not use the
term, his theories paved the way for symbolic interactionism.
Sociologist Herbert Blumer first used the expression ‘symbolic interac-
tionism’ as he developed Mead’s ideas in relation to meaning, language,
and thought. Meaning is central to human behaviour in that humans
behave towards other people or things in the light of the meaning they
have given to those people or things. It is via language that individ-
uals negotiate meaning through symbols, and through thought that
each person’s interpretation of symbols is modified. Thought based on
language constitutes a mental dialogue requiring that the individual
imagine the point of view of another person. Blumer (1986) held three
premises of symbolic interactionism. Firstly, individuals act towards
things according to the meaning the things have for them. Secondly,
these meanings derive from social interactions with others. Finally,
these meanings are dealt with and modified through an ‘interpretive
process’ used by the individual (Ibid., p. 2).
The role of language in symbolic interactionism
It will be seen that symbolic interactionism is a sociological perspec-

tive of the self, and of society seeing humans as carrying out their lives
in a symbolic environment. Within this environment, symbols are
social objects derived from human culture, and their meaning is shared
and developed in interaction with others. The role of language and
communication is crucial, symbols being the means by which reality
is constructed mainly as a social product. Our sense of self, society, and
culture emerge from symbolic interactions on which they are dependent
for their existence. The physical environment is interpreted through
symbolic systems in the way it is made relevant to human behaviour.
The influence of symbolic interactionism
Look at the website (www.symbolicinteraction.org) concerning the Society for

the Study of Symbolic Interaction.
Symbolic interactionism is said to influence a very wide range of areas.
Are there any of these areas which you consider the impact of symbolic inter-
actionism has been particularly strong?
What might be the reasons for this?
Some implications for special education of symbolic

interactionism
The thread of radical criticism

Some students may experience mental health disorders such as anxiety
disorder and depressive disorder or disorders of conduct. Turner (2001)
suggests that in relation to the study of mental health and social devi-
ance, symbolic interactionism ‘has produced an influential literature that
gave rise to radical criticism of taken-for-granted notions of normality
and questioned the conventional division between norm, normal, and
deviance’ (Ibid., p. 232). In disability studies, symbolic interactionism
poses questions such as, ‘What is the subjective experience of disability?’
and ‘How do others perceive, define and react to disabled people?’
(Albrecht, 2002, p. 27). The approach is considered ‘well equipped to
analyse how social problems, behaviour and institutions are socially
constructed’ (Ibid., p. 28).
In special education, the approach suggests that personal perspectives
are valuable and valued. There are interesting implications of the view
that we ‘bestow’ meaning on objects, people, situations, and behav-
iour. However, there are difficulties associated with: deciding between
different constructions and interpretations; generalising beyond the
subjective accounts and case studies often associated with symbolic
interactionism; and trying to alter social constructions of disability by
changing language use.
Valorising personal perspectives

Symbolic interactionism is part of a wider interpretative perspective
relevant to disability. Goodley (2004) maintains that an interpretative
approach, ‘understands disability as the product of voluntaristic individ-
uals engaged in the active creation of identities’ (Ibid., p. 119). Quoting
others, he suggests that the use of interviews by key informants who are
disabled and the use of life story accounts (which are two methods of
interpretative approaches) are affirming. They convey that a disabled
person has a life to recount and present disabled informants as ‘moral
agents’ (Ibid., p. 53).
The approach reinforces the importance of social participants in a
social world, implying that identities can be negatively or positively
shaped by others and by the individuals themselves. This suggests that
individuals including those with a disability or disorder contribute to
the formation of their own identity and are not simply passive recipi-
ents of other people’s attributions. The interactive nature of the perspec-
tive gives individuals ‘agency’ in shaping their identities. In the process
of negotiating identity, the role of language is evident. Labelling is a
closely related issue because the way someone is described can influence
the way they are perceived by others and themselves with implications
for identity and future life opportunities.
Bestowing meaning on objects, people, situations, and behaviour

For a symbolic interactionist, things do not produce their own meaning,
but have meaning given to them. Resources such as aids to mobility
or communication are not external phenomena devoid of meaning,
but have different connotations for different people. To one person, a
wheelchair may be a help; to another, a persistent reminder of restric-
tions. Language that is used about such equipment tends to reflect
and reinforce the meaning being developed. People’s roles convey and
suggest particular meanings again interacting with the language that is
used. For a special student, the deployment of speech-language patholo-
gists, classroom aides, and psychotherapists convey meanings about the
student which may be positive or negative.
Bogdan and Kugelmass (1984) report a project looking at variations
in who was considered to require special education provisions and why,
maintaining that perceptions were crucial. They state, ‘ ... the ways chil-
dren are perceived, including whether they are thought of as handi-
capped, and how they are educated vary from school district to school
district, from school to school, and from place to place within a given
school’ (Ibid., p. 175). The authors suggest that symbolic interactionism
might illuminate situations where identification and interventions
appear unreliable. They maintain that objects, people, situations, and
behaviour do not produce their own meaning. On the contrary, ‘meaning
is bestowed upon them’ (Ibid., p. 182). The ‘objects’ mentioned include
‘wheelchairs’. People are those like ‘resource teachers, and special
education students’. Situations are those such as ‘mainstreaming’.

Behaviour includes ‘reading and writing’ (Ibid., p. 182). Of course, ‘some
students are more disposed to read than others’, and ‘a child that is
blind cannot see’ but these concepts ‘need to be understood’ by exam-
ining the interplay between how different people ‘come to define’ these
children in specific situations (Ibid., p. 183).
Meaning can be uncontentious such as when people agree about the
interpretation of a friendly exchange. Sometimes, what appears to be
the same situation or object can carry different meanings (connotations)
for different people. Bogdan and Kugelmass (1984) are not disputing the
physical reality of disabilities and disorders. But they suggest that as well
as such agreed ‘realities’ there are connotations and other contributors
to meaning that may be divergent for different individuals. Meaning
or reality may differ for different individuals, implying that teachers
should be aware of the meaning of situations and objects to a special
student because it may differ from their own.
However, the comment that ‘some students are more disposed to read
than others’ (Bogdan and Kugelmass, 1984) requires further scrutiny. If
it refers to what others might describe as ‘specific learning disorder with
impairment in reading’ the idea of varying dispositions to read may be
understating the issue. Being able to read is more of an achievement than
being ‘disposed’ to read. Inability to read is more than a concomitant of
how others interpret this. Teachers have to recognise a level of ‘reality’
where a student cannot read and whether intervention may be required.
Deciding between different constructions and interpretations

Deciding between differing interpretations of situations and other
phenomena is problematic for symbolic interactionism. Consider the
provision of psychotherapy. One can explore why is it thought that
therapy might be needed and who is deciding this. The meaning that
a special student places on therapy could be examined. Questioning
whether providing therapy might reflect a negative view of disabilities
and disorders is another avenue of exploration. Alternatively, a symbolic
interactionist may consider that within psychodynamic psychotherapy,
subjective experience and the interpretation of social reality can be
usefully explored leading to positive outcomes. Whether meanings are
explored to castigate or endorse psychotherapy finds no arbitrator in
symbolic interactionism.
Armstrong (2003) considers the possible contribution of pragma-
tism and of symbolic interactionism to special education. He suggests
that certain ‘voices’ are excluded from special educational debate and
theorising, and that two sources might address this problem (Ibid.,
p. 23). The first is pragmatic philosophy. The second is theories such
as symbolic interactionism that concern ‘everyday understanding and
action’ with pragmatism as their philosophical underpinning.
Philosophical pragmatism concerns both efficacy and truth. It contends
that a proposition is true if holding it to be true is advantageous or
practically successful. A true belief is one that leads to successful action.
Haack (1996) defines pragmatism as a method by which ‘the meaning
of a concept is determined by the experiential or practical consequences
of its application’ (Ibid., p. 643).
Considering symbolic interactionism, Armstrong (2003) points out
that, where different individuals contest views and interpretations of
reality, there may be ‘significant differences between perspectives’. In
such circumstances, social interaction itself is considered to provide the
‘rational structures for the mediation and resolution of different inter-
pretations’ (Ibid., p. 24). This suggests a critical pragmatism in which
analysis has a particular focus in comprehending the ‘practices through
which meaning is created’. These practices are ‘social, political, cultural
and epistemological’ ones (Ibid.).
Work in the 1980s and afterwards has involved micro-sociological
concerns, that is, concerns to do with the nature of everyday human social
interactions on a small scale. It has sought to relate micro-sociological
concerns associated with symbolic interactionism with organisational
and societal levels of analysis. An example is Stryker’s ([1980]/2003)
book, Symbolic Interactionism: A Social Structural Version. Yet, Armstrong
(2003) recognises that at the theoretical level, symbolic interactionism
offers little to extend historical analysis beyond ‘a reductionist focus
on social interaction’ (Ibid.). It might allow a recognition and under-
standing of the practicalities of ‘what works’. However, it cannot analyse
how ‘these workings are constructed within a wider societal context of
social experience of and social action’ (Ibid., p. 26). What works is under-
stood only in terms of ‘the practicalities of what is enforced’ neglecting
historical understanding. The perspective is, constrained by ‘the ideo-
logical restrictions of present day concerns’ (Ibid.). In brief symbolic
interaction can be isolated from structural matters.
Difficulties in generalising from subjective accounts

Symbolic interactionism tends to use qualitative research methods
to study areas such as social interaction and individual selves. It has
examined the subjective experiences of individuals with disabilities
and the perceptions of disability of others who are not disabled. These
can provide interesting insights into the perceptions of individuals and

the way they (and others) construct the meaning of various events and
phenomena.
Attempts have been made to combine symbolic interaction with
other viewpoints, not only pragmatism. Bentley (2005) links symbolic
interactionism with a ‘Foucauldian genealogy’ to investigate disability
and inclusion, and the interactions and meanings attached to them. A
brief explanation of ‘genealogy’ may be helpful. The French historian
of ideas, Michel Foucault, regarded sets of presuppositions of thought
relating to the humanities and medicine as historically situated, refer-
ring to them as ‘epistemes’. Through these presuppositions, rational
order is recognised in a given period and in a given society. Epistemes
are necessary for reality to be interpreted and discussed, but they remain
obscured. Through what Foucault calls ‘archaeology’ (and ‘genealogy’),
these presuppositions can be unearthed allowing underlying structures
of thought to be examined. Foucault follows this approach in various
areas including madness (Foucault ([1961]/2006), medical perception
(Foucault [1963]/2003), and penology (Foucault ([1975]/1991). It is the
notion of genealogy in the sense of tracing ‘epistemes’ that Bentley
(2005) links to symbolic interactionism.
Bentley (2005) identifies ‘excluding’ and ‘including’ interactions
within self-described inclusive practices. He suggests indications of
‘excluding interactions’ with an 11-year-old, nonverbal girl with Rett
syndrome. These included that she was perceived in a medical context
and considered different to others (‘medical Othering’). Furthermore, she
was treated as if younger than she was (‘infantilisation’). Expectations of
her were lower than for others (‘academic exclusion through low expec-
tations and limited participation’). These excluding interactions tended
to support ‘existing meanings’ of disability and inclusion. Also identi-
fied were various ‘including interactions’, most often observed between
the girl and her peers, with and without disabilities. These interactions,
‘medical sharing’, ‘age-appropriate expectations’, and ‘academic inclu-
sion’, tended to transform existing meanings of disability and inclusion.
If a case study is idiosyncratic, it might suggest the adults involved
reflect critically on the way they interact with a particular student; if
representative, it might encourage looking carefully at how educators
interact with students. But the argument for Bentley’s (2005) case study
being representative is not fully made. The study appears to assume
that ‘existing meanings’ of disability (and inclusion) are associated with
negative aspects. These negative responses were behaving towards the
student as if she is only a medical condition, treating her like an infant,
and excluding her academically. However, the study does not provide
evidence that the observed meanings, even if interpreted accurately, are
‘existing meanings’. Bentley (2005) may intend that the bridge from the
case study to a more general assertion may be the theorising of Foucault.
But this does not supply evidence that the interactions described are
‘existing meanings’. Foucault’s work is more a theoretical framework
(itself contested) that may or may not be supported by extensive
observation.
This underlines the difficulty of transferring insights from individual
studies. The subjective nature of such observations and the difficulty of
extending such work may limit their wider applicability. Consequently,
educators who respond to the student as a whole, treat learners according
to their age and understanding, and create opportunities to include the
student in learning might consider Bentley’s case study a caricature. Case
studies can provide valuable insights, but if they are to be more than
anecdote a bridge is required to link them to wider application. This
may be the replication of case studies raising similar points, suggesting
that any one case study is not isolated. It is the research equivalent to
the proverb that ‘one swallow does not make a summer’.
Seeking to alter social constructions of disability by changing

language
Danforth and Rhodes (1997) link ‘deconstruction’ and the ‘social
construction’ of disability, although in a way that (they recognise)
Derrida, a central figure in deconstruction, might not recognise (Ibid.,
p. 353). They suggest that both deconstruction and social construction
accept that different forms of disability ‘are not physical absolutes’.
Rather, disabilities are ‘social designations that are made by people in
interaction and relationships’ (Ibid., p. 359).
Seeing disability as a social construct, Danforth and Rhodes (1997)
maintain that using the terms ‘ability’ and ‘disability’ suggest accepting
the implied ‘moral and political categories’ which they consider deval-
uing and negative (Ibid., p. 357). However, questioning the term ‘disa-
bility’ allows inclusion to be better advocated. People who say they
support mainstream, but do not challenge the ‘disability construct’
unwittingly support the ‘devaluation and stigmatisation’ of these
students (Ibid., p. 357). Here, the authors seek a (for them) socially just
and moral position that using certain words means those who use them
are degrading others.
The construction of disability for Danforth and Rhodes (1997) is
unjust, disrespectful, and elitist.
But, if disability was constructed in one way, they believe it can be

constructed in another that is ‘more respectful and egalitarian’. They are
unclear about how this would be done, but suggest that it would involve
finding or persuading sufficient people to ‘steer the momentum of socio-
cultural activity in that new direction’ (Ibid., p. 359). Perhaps this would
involve encouraging others to see and behave in a different way.
Part of this movement would involve changing the language being
used. Danforth and Rhodes (1997) believe that if society ‘somehow’
lost the vocabulary of mental retardation, ‘the constructed reality of
mental retardation would no longer continue in its present form’ (Ibid.,
p. 360).
The implication is that if language reflects and shapes the socially
constructed world, changing language could change perceived reality.
Changes in vocabulary are expected to lead to changes in behaviour.
As new politically and morally advantageous terms emerge, people
previously associated with ‘mental retardation’ might be treated with
a greater respect because the construction of mental retardation would
be challenged.
The driving force for Danforth and Rhodes’ (1997) argument seems
to be a preference for mainstreaming over separate provision. From this
standpoint, they see the construction of disability and the language that
they believe shapes such construction as wrong. Those who continue to
use such terms are simply immoral. This argument only holds if there is
no moral case for separate education, which many consider that there
is. Danforth and Rhodes do not really engage in this aspect of the argu-
ment, but start from the unexamined position that mainstreaming is
morally superior to special schooling.
The idea that certain terminology demonstrates devaluation of others
also stems from the same inclusive assumption. The way that others
who disagree with their views might be ‘persuaded’ to think otherwise
is not spelt out. Shaming and name calling seems to be one way as illus-
trated by the implication that these dissidents are involved in ‘devalua-
tion and stigmatisation’, and are unjust and immoral. There is a certain
irony here, unrecognised by the authors, that in arguing for one group
to be treated with (as they see it) more respect, those who might disagree
with Danforth and Rhodes’ (1997) are demonised.
Some implications for special provision
Regarding language for special students, having a symbolic interac-

tionist view suggests certain approaches to provision. The curriculum
would include sessions or modules exploring how language might shape

attitudes and values. Particular terminology and its use would be exam-
ined, for example the way the media portrays disabled people. Language
used in school for different groups could be explored, including how it
appears to value or not value special students.
Pedagogy would eschew rote learning. It would be seen as insuffi-
ciently crediting the personalising of learning involved in making one’s
own meaning or understanding. Consider the teaching of social skills.
Social skills are seen as forms of behaviour each with their own meaning.
Building confidence in such skills is likely to be viewed not as trying to
convey a set of discrete actions that can be called ‘social skills’. It would
instead involve a student gradually investing with meaning in various
types of behaviour and coming to understand them in an interactive
social context. This would embrace a social observational approach and
role play rather than a behaviour skills strategy. Language used in discus-
sions and in role play would help shape and deepen the meaning of the
social skills. More broadly, language and constructing meaning would
be valued. Discussion and debate would be extensive. Efforts would be
made to help students personalise their learning. Where apparent bare
facts are presented, discussion would ensure they are absorbed in terms
the student understands. This may happen in schools already but would
be greatly emphasised.
Situations, people, and objects can be seen as having meaning
‘bestowed’ upon them (Bogdan and Kugelmass, 1984, p. 182). The
objects include resources used in schools and the constructed meaning
of these objects would be given consideration. The way the ‘meaning’
of a wheelchair, aids for low vision, hearing aids, and other materials
that may be distinctively associated with disabilities and disorders
would be considered.
Regarding whole school organisation, the languages and practices
associated with the separation of students for various purposes might
be examined. Examples are the social meaning and value of ‘units’ and
‘resource rooms’. Whole class and small group discussions might be used
to allow students to explore personal and group meanings.
For some, the very existence of therapy suggests not valuing special
students and being too eager to ‘fix’ them. Goodley (2011) states that,
‘For disabled people, therapy equates with oppression’ (Ibid., p. 77).
Counselling in the lives of disabled people has been said to be typi-
fied by loss models in the therapeutic context. This is associated with
the aim of ‘adjustment’ and an assumption that the disabled person
wants to be normalised. However, Goodley does not explain how he
knows that for ‘disabled people’ therapy equates with oppression. Is this
a reference to all, some, a few, or a tiny minority of disabled people? Nor
does he indicate if this negative view of therapy extends beyond coun-
selling to physical therapy. For some, therapy is a valued part of provi-
sion for special students. Where therapy is provided for special students,
the language used when referring to this provision can be examined
and questions can be raised. These include, ‘How do other students
not receiving therapy refer to the provision?’; ‘How do those receiving
therapy talk about it?’ and ‘How do staff speak of therapy?’
Conclusion
Symbolic interactionism concerns the way meaning is shaped by our

social interactions with others. The role of language is central. Regarding
special education, the approach is considered to valorise personal
perspectives because it prioritises personal accounts and views. Where
notions of the subjective construction of reality try to diminish the
implications of disorders, the arguments are weak. Social construc-
tionism is on shaky ground if it confuses disposition with inability to
read, and risks diminishing the importance of interventions to promote
literacy. However, the view that we ‘bestow’ meaning on objects, people,
situations, and behaviour can have positive implications. It might lead
teachers of special students to recognise that, for example resources
may be perceived differently by students, teachers, or others. This could
promote better communication and understanding between parties.
Difficulties persist in deciding between different constructions and
interpretations. As a ‘micro-sociological’ approach, symbolic interac-
tionism can be isolated from more structural issues, and from organisa-
tional and societal levels of analysis. Attempts to address this in particular
pieces of research need to be individually evaluated. One may not be able
to generalise from subjective accounts and case studies. Nevertheless, a
series of case studies identifying the same issues linked with cogent argu-
ments might indicate wider application. Seeing ‘disability’ as a social
construct intermeshed with language can imply that even using such a
term as ‘disability’ endorses negative political and moral categorisation,
and is devaluing and stigmatising; hindering mainstreaming. Perhaps
(it may be believed) persuading people to use more advantageous terms
could reshape social reality in a more egalitarian way, opening opportu-
nities for mainstreaming. Such arguments simply accept mainstreaming
as beneficial, seeking to socially construct those who disagree as immoral
and unjust through using negative language. But if reality cannot be
modified by creating new language, neither the reshaping of disability

or the demonising of inclusion dissenters is likely to work.
Symbolic interactionism suggests that the curriculum might include
exploring language and media portrayals of different groups. Pedagogy
could involve social skills education, and role play. The school could
recognise different meanings and interpretations of resources such as
human resources. School and classroom organisation might include
discussion groupings. The approach might enhance awareness of how
therapy is valued or devalued, and how language is used in therapy and
discussions of therapy.
Thinking points
● What do you understand by the term ‘meaning’ and how might it be

established?
● How might meaning be allocated to phenomena associated with
special education such as resources, professionals, venues, and behav-
iours? What might be the consequences?
Key texts
Denzin, N. K. (2007) Symbolic Interactionism and Cultural Studies: The Politics of
Interpretation (Twentieth Century Social Theory) Oxford, UK, Wiley-Blackwell.
This text traces symbolic interactionism from its roots in American pragmatism
to its engagement with poststructuralism and postmodernism. The book draws
in discussion of feminism and cultural studies.
Reynold, L. T. and Herman-Kinney, N. J. (Eds) (2004) Handbook of Social
Interactionism Lanham, MD, Altamira Press.
This book covers the history and development of symbolic interactionism from
the time of Cooley and Mead, the different schools and theoretical models, key
concepts and methods, and its relevance to institutions and areas of study.
Further reading
Armstrong, D. (2003) Experiences of Special Education: Re-evaluating Policy and
Practice Through Life Stories New York and London, Routledge.
The book includes thought provoking sections on pragmatism and symbolic
interactionism.
Bentley, J. K. C. (2005) ‘Symbolic interaction in inclusive fourth- and fifth-grade
classrooms: “Can she pinch me goodbye?”’ (2005). ETD Collection for Texas
State University. https://digital.library.txstate.edu/handle/10877/3048.
4
Labelling: New Labels for Old?
Introduction
After examining labelling theory and criticisms of it, I look at how the
theory could be interpreted regarding different disorders. The chapter
explores strategies for resisting potential negative effects of labelling.
I consider whether expressions such as ‘special education’ and ‘intel-
lectual disability’ constitute negative labelling, and whether ‘opposi-
tional defiance disorder’ and similar terms are simply labels for naughty
boys. Asking whether there is unnecessary medical labelling of special
students, the chapter explores ‘identity spread’. I discuss positive label-
ling for special students and examine negative and positive labelling of
those connected with special schools.
Labelling and stereotyping
In this chapter, ‘labelling’ relates to labelling theory, while ‘stereotyping’

refers to how labelling can operate. Consequently, it may be useful to
examine both ‘labelling’ and ‘stereotyping’ in a preliminary way.
Physically, labelling refers to attaching a tag to an object to provide
information about it. A food label may be as factual as ‘baked beans’
or may more interpretively suggest attractive properties, such as ‘best
beef’. When applied to people, labelling suggests a way of summarising
a perceived characteristic or attribute of a person or group in a word or
phrase. It may be based on observation or report, and may be accurate
or inaccurate, fair or unfair. Group labels may apply according to nation-
ality, religion, culture, or gender. The question of whether a label is accu-
rate or inaccurate raises some of the difficulties with labelling.
58
Labelling: New Labels for Old? 59
The term ‘stereotype’ derived from the process of printing where it

referred to a plate that could provide copies of lettering. In the social
sciences, a stereotype is a generalisation about a person or group based
on perceived characteristics or qualities that may or may not be accu-
rate. It may be positive or negative. Positive stereotypes include the
‘dedicated’ physician or the notion that all Chinese people are good
at mathematics. Examples of negative stereotypes are ‘unscrupulous’
lawyer or the idea that all Native Americans love to gamble.
Stereotypes
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Mass media examples of sports racial
stereotypes’.
Watch the video.
What are the stereotypes in operation?How might they have come about?
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Sir Les Patterson Gough’s cultural
attaché’.
Watch the video.
What stereotypes of Australians does Sir Les depict?
In playing on these stereotypes, what other stereotypes does he express?
Labelling theory
In the previous chapter we examined the notion that meaning emerges

through social interaction, a so-called interactionist perspective.
Labelling theory is a collection of ideas related to an interactionist soci-
ological perspective. Developed mainly in criminology, it is still some-
times known as a labelling theory of deviance.
‘Primary’ and ‘secondary’ deviance is contrasted (Lemert, 1951).
Primary deviance concerns the initial behaviour which may arise for
a variety of reasons. An individual may steal because they perceive
there is no other way of making a living. Secondary deviance refers to
the ‘symbolic re-organisation of self and social roles which may occur
because of the societal response to any deviation from norms’ (Scott and
Marshall, 2009, p. 391). This might involve others responding by pros-
ecuting the individual and regarding him as ‘a thief’ and the individual
himself coming to see himself as such. What may have been a single
criminal act becomes a perceived life style.
In Outsiders, Becker (1963) argues that society in a sense creates deviant

behaviour. Certain social groups make rules whose infringement consti-
tutes deviance and apply these rules to individuals ‘labelling’ them as
outsiders. Deviance is seen, not as a quality of a person’s behaviour, but
as an interaction between the person manifesting the behaviour and the
response of others (Ibid., p. 9). Furthermore, labelling can have the effect
of increasing deviance (Cohen, [1972]/2002). In attempting to control
deviant behaviour, society stigmatises individuals by defining them in
dehumanising ways (‘thug’, ‘monster’, ‘psycho’). This can encourage
deviance by restricting individuals to adopt a deviant identity as a way
of defence or attack. An individual associating with others in a similar
position can precipitate more deviance leading to the group attracting
further punitive responses.
Clearly, the notion of ‘stigma’ is explicit or implicit in labelling theo-
ries. Its Greek origins relate to the practice of marking the body of indi-
viduals by a burn or cut so that they could be subsequently recognised
as having the negative status of a slave or a criminal. Later Christian uses
refer to signs of grace in the form of marks on the skin. Medically, stigma
referred to bodily signs of mental disorder. Contemporary meaning tends
towards negative aspects of former usage rather than prestigious reli-
gious ones. Introduced into sociology largely through a popular essay by
Goffman ([1963]/1968), stigma concerns a relationship of devaluation.
It refers to ‘the situation of the individual who is disqualified from full
social acceptance’ (Ibid., preface). More fully, stigma is ‘a special kind of
relationship between attribute and stereotype’ (Ibid., p. 2).
(See also www.scribd.com/doc/16661891/Goffman-Erving1963-Stigma).
Labelling theory and crime
Search the internet for ‘Labelling theories of crime’ and find Robert Worley’s
lecture/slide presentation.
Watch the presentation.
To what extent does labelling theory explain important aspects of the devel-
opment of a criminal career?
What were some of the perceived weaknesses of the labelling theory of
crime?
What are the differences between stigmatising and Braithwaite’s ‘re-integra-
tive shaming’?
Are there any aspects of the theory that might be more widely applicable?
Criticisms of labelling theory
Criticisms of labelling theory are well summarised by Scott and Marshall

(2009, p. 392) to whom I am indebted in this section. Labelling theory
is said to take insufficient notice of the sources of the deviant behaviour
because it focuses on the creation of the deviant identity more than
the deviant actions that might lead to such an identity being ascribed.
While this may be correct, it over-extends labelling theory. The theory,
in fact, does not set out to explain the causes of deviance. Other explana-
tions are necessary to do that. Labelling theory is specifically concerned
with the effects of processes subsequent to the initial deviant behav-
iour. In Lemert’s (1951) terms, it concerns secondary more than primary
deviance.
It has been suggested that labelling theory takes insufficient account
of power and social structure. The extent to which labelling tends to
be applied to powerless individuals by those with considerable power
sustained by social structures was not recognised enough. Again this asks
more of the theory than the theory itself claims. Its focus is the labelling
process and other theories or explanations are needed to take account of
the social structure and power relations that might be involved.
Another concern is that the theory is too deterministic in the way it
views the labelling process. It appears to imply a direct and inevitable
trajectory from the labelling by a social group to the amplifying of devi-
ancy. In fact, the theory does recognise that labelling can be accepted,
rejected, or subverted by the individual concerned. The shift from
primary to secondary deviance is seen not as direct and simple; but as
complex and various.
Nevertheless, it can appear that labelling theory minimises deviance
and suggests society is at fault rather than the individual committing
a crime. Furthermore, labelling theory was criticised for concentrating
on the labelling carried out by the messengers of the most powerful in
society rather than the powerful elite themselves: social welfare depart-
ments who carried out government policy rather than the government
representatives behind them.
In response to broad criticisms about excusing deviance and ignoring
power and social structures, it is argued that the remit of labelling theory
is narrower than these criticism imply. The focus is on the social proc-
esses that guide the ‘nature, emergence, application, and consequences
of labels’ (Scott and Marshall, 2009, p. 392). Where criticisms have been
more about the overarching standpoint than the role of labelling theory,
they have been misplaced (Plummer, 1979).
Labelling and special students
Nuanced application
As a theory of deviance relating to criminal behaviour and to secondary
deviance, labelling theory concerns the development of identity. It
may shed light on aspects of conduct disorder which can include a
range of behaviours such as aggression, destroying property, stealing,
housebreaking, truanting and other infringements of other people’s
rights, and violations of social rules. It involves the violation of the
rights of others or the transgression of ‘major age-appropriate social
norms’ (American Psychiatric Association, 2013, p. 469 criterion A).
The behaviour forms a repetitive and persistent pattern. Boys’ conduct
disorder may involve fighting, stealing, school discipline problems,
and vandalism, while in girls it may implicate truancy, lying, substance
abuse, running away and prostitution (Ibid., p. 474). Where conduct
disorder behaviour overlaps with criminal behaviour, labelling theory
might provide a framework for understanding it.
For the vast majority of special students who are not involved in crim-
inal behaviour, labelling theory cannot be assumed to apply in the same
way. A student identified as having a reading disorder does not increase
the chances of him committing a reading disorder in the future through
the views taken of him by others. However, the question of shaping
identity including negative aspects of identity does arise.
The label ‘special’ might be seen as conveying low aspirations. A
student identified as having a ‘specific learning disorder with impair-
ment in reading’ will by definition be attaining at lower levels than
peers and not progressing as well. With special provision, the student
may progress better and attain higher standards than he might other-
wise. However, there may be a concern that using the label ‘reading
disorder’ might depress teacher and student expectations.
The parallel with secondary deviance is quite close. Initial identifica-
tion of a reading disorder corresponds broadly with primary deviance
in that the attainment and progress of the student in literacy is lower
than peers. Identification and subsequent interventions may be justified
educationally. However, the labelling may have the unintended nega-
tive effect of lowering aspirations. Similarly, if a student is seen solely
in terms of a category such as ‘mild intellectual disability’ and nothing
else, opportunities might be constrained.
An alternative view is more positive. A student identified as having
a specific learning disorder with impairment in reading may receive
special provision accelerating progress. For a student where the diffi-

culty relates to a phonological deficit, provision might include
speech-language therapy concentrating on intensively learning sound
and graphic correspondences. Or it might involve one-to-one work on
a structured phonic reading approach effective with students having
reading impairment. With such intervention, the student’s reading
competence and confidence may improve. Consequently, the potential
negative effects of labelling such a slower aspirations and self-esteem are
more than countered by the actual progress and attainment that further
raises expectations and self-esteem. This recognises that while labelling
theory applies to the amplification of deviance and deviant identity, it
is not deterministic.
Highlighting the labelling process and the role of euphemism

Where labelling is seen as negative, one response is to draw attention
to the labels. Commentators might speak of people ‘with the label of
Down’s syndrome’ (Goodley, 2010, pp. 6, 158) or ‘institutionalised
adults with the label of learning difficulties’ (Ibid., p. 76). There is a
suggestion of discomfort about the label. With accepted labels, it would
seem odd to highlight and question the label. One would be unlikely
to refer to ‘Edward Marshall-Hall who has the label “lawyer”’. One
would simply say, ‘Edward Marshall-Hall, a lawyer’. The implication is
that an individual does not ‘have’ Down’s syndrome, but only has the
label. The difficulty here is that a person either does or does not have
a chromosomal anomaly which is physically demonstrable and which
is associated with intellectual disability, facial characteristics, and other
indications. To say that someone has the ‘label of Down’s syndrome’
could imply that they have been given a label by someone, but that
someone else disagrees with the label. Or could it mean that an indi-
vidual has the label, but that others dislike using it.
Related to labelling, commentators sometimes attempt to use
preferred descriptions or euphemisms for disabilities and disorders.
Individuals with intellectual disability might be described as ‘differently
able people’ (Goodley, 2010, p. xii). In a similar vein, it is stated, ‘Critical
disability studies think differently about the unruly impaired body and
mind’ so that the ‘disruptive child’ becomes the ‘productive child’, and
the ‘intellectually disabled’ become ‘the distribution of intelligence’
(Ibid., p. 167). Intellectual disability may be seen as unreal. A heading
in Goodley (2010) is ‘Interpretivism and the myth of mental retardation’
(Ibid., p. 53, italics added).
However, there is sometimes a stark difference between the label

and the euphemism. An individual with intellectual disability has
certain real limitations. ‘Profound intellectual disability’ involves
limitations in both intellectual functioning and in adaptive behaviour
(APA, 2013). Functional limitations cover practical, conceptual, social,
and vocational and recreational domains. For example in the practical
domain, the individual is dependent on others ‘for all aspects of daily
physical care, health, and safety’, but may be able to participate in
some of these activities. He may help with some daily work tasks at
home such as ‘carrying dishes to the table’ and participate in some
vocational activities (with high levels of ongoing support) through a
basis of simple actions with objects (Ibid., p. 36). Similar definitions
are common in England for the broadly equivalent ‘profound and
multiple learning difficulties’ (Department for Education and Skills,
2003, p. 4).
If a child who is disruptive harms other children, disability theorists
do not have to inform the parents of the injured child. It would be a
brave teacher who explained to such a parent that the child who had
caused the injury was really being ‘productive’. Using such euphemisms
suggests a sense of non-acceptance and shame which is presumably the
opposite of what is intended.
In contrast, euphemisms may be ridiculed and plain language
preferred. Shapiro (1993) states, ‘Virtually no disabled person uses these
cute phrases. Concoctions like ‘the vertically challenged’ are silly and
scoffed at. The ‘differently abled’, the ‘handi-capable’, the ‘physically and
mentally challenged’ are almost universally dismissed as too gimmicky
and too inclusive’ (Ibid., p. 33). The writer adds, newly in vogue among
some physically disabled people is ... ‘cripple’ (Ibid.).
Labelling special students in school
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘The pros and cons of labelling
children’.
Find the ‘Your voice’ discussion.
Watch the video.
What is your view of the potential negative and positive impact of labelling?
What might be done to avoid ‘teaching down’ to the label as mentioned in
the video?
Negative labelling and special students
The label of special education

Identifying students for special education may be seen as negative label-
ling. Brantlinger (2006) has claimed, ‘ ... American professionals are
orientated towards distinction-making; they compulsively stress the
importance of normality and are crazy about labelling’ (Ibid., p. 234).
There is a certain irony in this rhetoric. Labelling is a bad thing, but it
is fine to label professionals as acting ‘compulsively’ and being ‘crazy’
about labelling. Furthermore, it is suggested, ‘That children are unhappy
with labels and about being stuck in special education has been well docu-
mented’ (Ibid., italics added). The well documented evidence is not
cited, but the notion that if you are in special education you are ‘stuck’
conveys further negative labelling.
Corbett (1996) believes that not many disabled people become
academics, but has an explanation for this. She states, ‘Whilst few disa-
bled people become academics – a reflection of the destructive effects of
special education and low expectations – their numbers are rising and
new voices are now heard’ (Ibid., p. 62, italics added). Again there is no
evidence of expectations in special education being lower than in main-
stream education or any indication of what the ‘destructive effects’ are.
To avoid negative aspects of labelling, it may be suggested that disa-
bility labels are abandoned so educators and others can concentrate
more on the whole person and his social experiences. This view is held
by those who believe that ‘disability’ is predominantly socially created
(e.g. Oliver, 1992, pp. 20–22).
Intellectual disability
Attempts have been made to interpret the role of terminology in public
perception and attitudes to people with ‘learning difficulties’ (intellec-
tual disability) (Eayrs, Ellis and Jones, 1993). One aspect of labelling was
associated with unequal relationships. It was considered to be related
to powerful groups being able to define the ways less powerful groups
are perceived and relatedly how they are treated (Ibid.). This echoes
the origins of labelling theory in that, where deviance is labelled, the
primary deviance may be identified by those who are in power for
example judges and the police. However, the all-important secondary
deviance which is the nub of labelling theory is more widely applied. It
is not judges and the police who tend to use words such as ‘monster’ and
‘psycho’, but the mass media and some sections of the public.
Eayrs, Ellis and Jones (1993) imply that, once identified, individuals
with ‘learning difficulties’ are treated (by people holding the power to
make those decisions) in different ways to others. Furthermore, this
different treatment can be a source of negative attitudes held by others.
Bromfield, Wiz and Messer (1986), looking at children’s judgements and
attributions regarding the label ‘mentally retarded’, found labelling to
have a negative effect. They argue that labelling leads to teachers having
lower aspirations for students, precipitating underachievement.
Attentiondeficit hyperactivity disorder

Various criticisms have been levelled at the identification and labelling
of attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) (Lloyd, Stead and
Cohen, 2006, passim). Sometimes, it is argued that labels over empha-
sise ordinary behaviour so that mere naughtiness is equated with ‘atten-
tion deficit hyperactivity disorder’. Goodley (2011) suggests, ‘Today’s
“naughty boy” is known more commonly as a child with ADHD or
Oppositional Defiance Disorder (ODD)’ (Ibid., p. 10). What it is that
defines a ‘naughty boy’ is not specified, but it is clear what Goodley is
getting at.
Certainly, the definition and identification criteria for ADHD (APA,
2013, pp. 59–66) are rather wide and can lead to diverse assessments.
But ADHD is not mere naughtiness. Definitions of it have emerged from
attempts to describe inattentive, overactive, and impulsive behaviour.
Also, ODD (APA, 2013) is a pattern of ‘angry/irritable mood, argumen-
tative/defiant behaviour, or vindictiveness lasting at least six months’
(Ibid., p. 462). This is more than a child being ‘naughty’. Nevertheless,
discomfort with the over use of these labels may be justified when one
considers the great increase in identification of this disorder.
Labelling and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘ADHD is a myth’.

Watch the video.
How convincing is the view that attention deficit hyperactivity disorder was
invented and is not an illness?
Now Google ‘The ADHD child ADHD help video’.
There are several videos you may watch.
How convincing are the descriptions and of attention deficit hyperactivity
disorder and the various therapies?
Medical type labels

There is sometimes resistance to medical or psychological labelling
associated with assessment or diagnosis (Gillman, Heyman and Swain,
2000). Some labels seem to create and perpetuate an excessively
medical view which can come to be associated with underperform-
ance. The Greek term ‘dyslexia’ suggests something more than a severe
difficulty with reading. Students considered to have dyslexia may be
‘diagnosed’ rather than assessed, be ‘treated’ rather than receive suit-
able provision, and attend a ‘clinic’ instead of an office where they
get help learning to read. They may even ‘suffer from’ or be ‘afflicted
by’ dyslexia.
Such terminology may create an impression of illness for what is
essentially a severe problem affecting literacy. To this extent it might
constrain aspirations: some medical conditions only get worse. Perhaps
the expression used in the US is more apt, ‘specific learning disorder
with impairment in reading’. Even the ‘disorder’ and the ‘impairment’
part of this expression may be too medical, but at least indicates a diffi-
culty with reading that is far in excess of run of the mill difficulties and
more intractable. Other disorders are sometimes given Greek medical
sounding titles. ‘Dyspraxia’ refers to development coordination disorder,
‘dyscalculia’ to mathematics disorder, and ‘dysgraphia’ to a disorder of
written expression.
Identity spread and recognising strengths and weaknesses

Shakespeare (2006, p. 71) explores the phenomena of ‘identity spread’.
Through this, personality and other aspects of identity can be brought
together under an umbrella term (label) of impairment that comes
to dominate interactions with others. It follows that it is important
teachers recognise the label is not the whole child. A student’s strengths
as well as weaknesses need to be borne in mind. Indeed, in the1920s,
Byelorussian psychologist Lev Vygotsky ([1925–1926]/1993, p. 68 and
[1927]/1993, p. 56) emphasised this. A child who is blind should be
educated, not as a blind child, but first and foremost as a child so special
pedagogy does not focus exclusively on the impairment (Vygotsky,
[1924]/1993, p. 83). Vygotsky sought to construct the educational
process on the basis of compensatory drives. This involves ensuring
the child’s strengths are concentrated on compensating for the ‘defect’,
and selecting in proper sequence tasks that eventually shape the whole
personality ‘from a new standpoint’ (Vygotsky, [1925–1926]/1993, p. 68
and [1927]/1993, p. 57).
Positive labelling and special students
As Shakespeare and Erickson (2000) state, labelling is a complex and

paradoxical process. Single dimensional accounts emphasising only
negative aspects and stigma do not do it justice. MacMillan, Jones and
Aloia (1974) reviewed research literature concerning five areas of possible
negative labelling in relation to children then considered ‘mentally
retarded’. These were:
● the child’s self-concept

● his future vocational adjustment
● rejection by peers
● attitudes of his family
● the expectations of teachers
They found little support for the view that children were stigmatised by
being labelled ‘retarded’ (Ibid.).
Kurtz, Harrison, Neisworth, and Jones (1977) conducted a study
comparing labelled and non-labelled preschool children. The label was
found to produce a positive effect in terms of teachers showing less
social distance.
Gottleib (1986) maintained that behaviour was more influential than
labelling. A child’s behaviour could lead to him being negatively regarded
by peers, whether or not he was labelled as ‘retarded’ by the school. If
inappropriate behaviour is more noticeable in an ordinary school, it was
argued, then mainstreaming learners with mental retardation would be
more likely to lead to them being ostracised by peers than would educa-
tion in separate provision (Ibid.).
Even when labelling is shown to have a positive effect, researchers
may resist such findings or their consequences. Vlachou (1997, p. 41)
reviewed research demonstrating the majority of it shows positive effects
of labelling. Yet, instead of seeking to understand this, she concludes
‘The notion of positive effects ... is quite disturbing’. She asks, ‘How
‘positive’ can interactions be that include notions of pity, over protec-
tiveness, dependency, ‘special dispensation’, and the perpetuation of ‘sick
roles’?’ (Ibid., p. 41, italics added).
The irony of finding that labelling is not necessarily negative in its
effects and then describing special education in a series of negative
terms such as ‘sick’ and ‘dependency’ is completely missed. Finding
that labelling has a positive effect can certainly be ‘disturbing’ to
anyone convinced it can only be negative. For Vlachou (1997, citing
eight references), the definitive answer to her questions comes from

‘numerous’ disabled people. Furthermore, she is convinced the studies
were misguided in that they ‘isolated the creation and formation of
labelling from the institutional practices of the society that created such
labels in the first place’ and paid no attention to the ‘reasons and the
social roots behind the creation of such labels’ (Ibid., p. 41). This ignores
the fact that it is just the social roots of labelling that labelling theory
examines, and if the evidence of negative impact is sometimes lacking it
might be a good thing just to say so.
For some parents of children with autism spectrum disorder, a diag-
nosis and a label can feel disempowering and lead them to worry about
the future, while for others it can lead to better understanding of the
condition (Hodge, 2005). Some parents find recognising and accepting
their child’s disability difficult, while for others a label is a helpful sign-
post to other parents and support groups.
Special schooling: Negative and positive labelling
The negative labelling of special schools

Some commentators do not warm to special schooling. Corbett (1996)
states, ‘To a certain extent, those teachers who remain in special schools
need to cultivate skills of subversive creativity if they are to resist the
pervading atrophy of a decaying system’ (Ibid., p. 68, italics added). A UK
charity pressing for mainstreaming lists reasons against ‘segregated’
schooling. These include:
The discrimination inherent in segregated schooling offends the human

dignity of the child and is capable of undermining or even destroying
the capacity of the child to benefit from educational opportunities.
Segregated schooling appeases the human tendency to negatively label
and isolate those perceived as different.
Segregated schooling perpetuates discrimination, devaluation, stig-
matisation, stereotyping, prejudice, and isolation – the very conditions
which disabled adults identify as among the biggest barriers to
respect, participation, and a full life. (Centre for Studies in Inclusive
Education, 2003, italics added)
It appears that special schools ‘offend’ a child’s ‘human dignity’; destroy

a child’s ‘capacity to benefit from educational opportunities’; are
involved in ‘devaluing and distancing’; and perpetuate ‘discrimination,
devaluation, stigmatisation, stereotyping, prejudice, and isolation’.

There is a delicious unrecognised irony in this rhetoric against special
schools about the dangers of negative labelling.
The negative labelling of special schools may reflect elements of
ideology outlined by Minogue (1995, p. 17). The past history of provi-
sion for special students may be presented as the oppression of these
learners. The response is not to tackle any particular examples of dissat-
isfaction with special schools in the real world. Instead, specific discon-
tents are gathered into a vision of structurally determined ‘oppression’.
Supporters might seek to mobilise adults with disabilities into a struggle
against the perceived oppressive system, achieving liberation only when
all students attend mainstream schools.
Naturally, some adults look back on their education in special schools
with unhappiness. There are undoubtedly also adults with disabilities
or disorders who were educated in mainstream schools who have bad
memories. But the response for some is not to examine particular special
schools or particular experiences in them and try to change what was
not good. It is to assume all special schools must be a bad thing, closing
one’s ears to anyone with a different experience or viewpoint.
Negative views about special schooling have been apparent in past
government policy. In England, under the Labour government there
were confused and conflicting messages concerning special education,
and negative views of special schools. Warnock (2006) points out:
For years government ministers and civil servants have paid grudging
lip-service to special schools: ‘We recognise that there will always be
a place for some special schools, for children with the most profound
and complex disabilities ... ’. This has put the special schools firmly
at the bottom of the pile, not something that any sane parent would
chose for her child; and it has perpetuated the unexamined assump-
tion that all parents and all children prefer mainstream education.
(Ibid., p. viii)
The negative labelling of special schools implies not just a poor view of
the schools. It demeans the children educated there, their parents for
choosing the special school, the staff who work there, and administra-
tors responsible for the school. While purporting to respect special chil-
dren and their parents, it ignores their voice. It takes the voice of some
who do not want special schools to be the only voices worth listening to,
eliding them into an abstract statement of supposed ‘rights’ as described
by Minogue (1995).
Pupils’ views
Yet, students in special schools have very different accounts of their
experiences. In England, this is indicated in comments reported by
a government working group (Department for Education and Skills,
2003, pp. 152–170). One student says, ‘When I moved to the special
school, I found I could really do my work. Everything was presented
in a way I understood’ (Ibid., p. 160). Students who had moved from
mainstream school to a special school had many positive comments
about the special schools. They say these schools were ‘friendlier’. They
state that the school ‘Doesn’t get wound up about the way I behave’ or
‘Doesn’t make a fuss about my medication’. One student reports having
more friends, ‘I can walk to school with them’. Another states, ‘I get
my therapy now, I never got it at Y school’ (Ibid., p. 157). Following
many such comments, the report concludes, ‘Although some literature
on pupils’ perceptions of education suggests that they may feel special
schools to be stigmatising, no negative messages emerged from our
focus groups’ (Ibid., p. 169).
Elsewhere, the voice of students from special schools has also been
reported (Farrell, 2006a, pp. 41–43). The results of a survey carried out
and analysed by pupils in a special school demonstrated that 55 of 62
pupils would not want to return to mainstream schools. In another
school, students praise the provision. One boy states, ‘I think it’s a very
good school. I think it should be all over the country and all over the
world for pupils with behaviour difficulty problems ... ’ (Ibid., p. 41).
Others writing as adults give powerful accounts of the transformation
their special school made to their lives (Ibid., pp. 42–43). Other sources
confirm this picture. Far from feeling that ‘emotional disabilities’ was a
negative label, a pupils says of his special school, (www.nrhs.redbridge.
sch.uk), ‘When I’m here with a bunch of boys that’s got emotional disa-
bilities, I feel more comfortable and more confident’. On leaving school,
this student successfully applied to and was accepted on a course at a
local college (For further examples please see Farrell, 2006a, pp. 38–45).
Parents’ views
Parents of special students express great appreciation of special schooling.
Those contributing to a special schools working group (Department
for Education and Skills, 2003, pp. 123–151) spoke of the advantages.
These included: positive expectations; no difficulties administering
medicines; a fully accessible physical environment; better behaviour
management; and access to external specialists. In a survey (Wilmot,
2006) issued to all parents with a child educated in an English special

school for students with ‘moderate learning difficulties’ (mild cognitive
impairment), 93% felt that the special school was the best available
option and 96% said they would prefer the pattern of special school
provision to stay as it was rather than have more mainstreaming. From
other sources (Farrell, 2006a, pp. 27–28, 31–37), parents speak and write
deeply felt endorsements of the provision their child receives in special
school.
Neither do parents associate special education and special schooling
with negative labelling of their children. Some parents feel strongly that
special schools offer ‘a much less restrictive environment for pupils with
intimate and health care needs’ (Department for Education and Skills,
2003, p. 142). Parents in a focus group reported, ‘their lives and those of
their children had been saved by residential special school placements’
(Ibid., p. 138). Among advantages to special schools, parents noted posi-
tive expectations, no difficulties administering medicines, a fully acces-
sible physical environment, better behaviour management, and better
access to specialists (Ibid., 134).
Some parents consider that special schools look beyond any label.
Parents from one special school stated, ‘My son was in a mainstream
unit for two and a half years. He is autistic. It was a disaster’. By contrast,
in the special school ‘It was completely different. They look past the
disabilities’ (Farrell, 2006a, p. 33). Other parents welcome the assessment
and labelling of a disability or disorder. One states their child went to his
special school ‘ ... with no language/no diagnosis/severe learning diffi-
culties and very little understanding of the world he lived in’. Within a
year he became ‘a delightful, happy, confident, bright child with a diag-
nosis of autistic spectrum disorder’ (letter from parents to author, 2005,
personal communication). (For other examples of parents’ views, please
see Farrell, 2006a, pp. 27–37).
Conclusion
Labelling theory seeks to explain how identity and subsequent behav-

iour might be influenced by the process of labelling by society and by the
individual themselves. Criticisms sometimes misunderstand the limits
of the theory. In special education, more direct applications of labelling
theory of deviance include conduct disorder. In other areas for example,
impairment in reading, the label can have negative implications such as
lowering expectations, in line with labelling theory. But the potential
for developing a negative identity is not deterministic so that labelling

more generally conceived can be a positive influence, leading to the
student feeling more confident that he is making progress and that his
learning requirements are recognised.
Drawing attention to labelling may signal a dislike of it, but evades
the differences associated with disorders while still drawing attention
to the disorder. Attempting to substitute euphemistic labels for ones the
user does not like risks creating a sense of non-acceptance and shame
contrary to what the user intends. The view that ADHD and ODD are no
more than labels for naughty boys reflects concerns about over-identi-
fication, but goes too far. The unnecessarily ‘medical’ labelling of some
disorders and disabilities may be misleading and care is needed that
‘identity spread’ does not lead to students being seen predominantly in
terms of a disorder.
Positive views of labelling and research indicating labelling has had
no negative effect runs counter to the concerns about negative labelling.
Parents may welcome labelling that enables them to share common
experiences with other families and gain access to support and other
resources. The negative labelling of special schools and the children and
parents associated with them can be countered by examples of positive
labelling.
Thinking points
● The ways in which labels are developed and how they acquire their
positive or negative connotations.
● How successfully and accurately the ideas of labelling theory might
apply to children, parents, and schools.
Key texts
Becker, H. S. ([1963, 1973, 1991]/1993) Outsiders: Study in the Sociology of Deviance
New York, NY, The Free Press.
In this newer edition, a selection of chapter headings indicate the ground covered:
‘Kinds of deviance – a sequential model’, ‘Careers in a deviant occupational
group’, ‘Rules and their enforcement’, and ‘Labelling theory reconsidered’.
Meighan, R. and Harber, C. (2007) A Sociology of Educating London, Continuum.
Chapter 25 provides an introduction to labelling theory and relates this to life
chances.
Further reading
Corbett, J. (1996) Bad Mouthing: The Language of Special Needs Falmer, UK, Falmer
Press.
This book concerns the language of ‘special needs’. It suggests the discourse of
special needs could be expanded by including elements from disability arts and
elsewhere.
Farrell, M. (2006a) Celebrating the Special School London, David Fulton.
This text presents evidence of the positive work of special schools and the
supportive views of students who attend them, and their parents.
5
Disability Memoirs and Student
Voice
Introduction
This chapter investigates the language of memoirs reflecting the expe-

rience of living with a disability. I examine Couser’s attempts to clas-
sify and interpret a range of such disability life writing. The chapter
looks at the influence of student views and the importance of consulta-
tion. Regarding the voice of special students, I consider issues around
communication and examine the views of students who have attended
special schools.
Couser’s analysis of the development of disability life

writing
Couser ([2005]/2010) suggests that it is only with the recent development

of disability studies, that disability has received the ‘critical scrutiny,
theoretical analysis, and recognition’ given to other forms of ‘human
variation’ (Ibid., p. 531). Yet, disability has long been ‘hyper-represented’
in mainstream culture (Ibid., italics in original). Cultural representation
of disability has ‘functioned at the expense of disabled people’ partly
because they have ‘not controlled their own images’, but through life
writing disabled people have ‘initiated and controlled’ their own stories
and the situation is changing (Ibid.).
Important in the history of these developments are autobiogra-
phies of disabled Second World War veterans as well as life narratives
involving polio (Ibid., p. 532). HIV/AIDS, breast cancer, and autism have
been part of many autobiographies, while small numbers of narratives
have emerged about many conditions including aphasia, Asperger’s
syndrome, and cerebral palsy (Ibid.). The increase in personal narratives
75
of disability has coincided with the rise of the human rights movement,
forming part of the increase in disability involvement in other arts and
media. Couser ([1997]/2010) concludes that the increase of life narra-
tives by disabled people constitutes a ‘retort’ to the ‘traditional misrep-
resentation of disability in Western culture generally’ (Ibid.).
These narratives may be approaches that Couser ([2005]/2010) claims
through recognising ‘somatic variation’ in everyday life often ‘provokes
a demand for explanatory narrative’ (Ibid., pp. 532–533). One of the
‘social burdens’ of disability is the way it exposes the individual to
‘inspection, interrogation, interpretation, and violation of privacy’
(Ibid., p. 533). People with ‘extra-ordinary bodies’ are ‘required to
account for them, often to complete strangers’. Also, there is an expec-
tation that these accounts will relieve ‘their auditor’s discomfort’ such as
when lung cancer patients are expected to recognise that they ‘brought
it upon themselves’ (Ibid.). In this sense, having certain conditions is to
‘have one’s life written for one’ (Ibid., p. 533).
From this perspective, disability autobiographers typically start from
‘a position of marginalisation, belatedness, and pre-inscription’. Yet,
autobiography involves ‘self-representation’ (Ibid., italics in original)
allowing a re-evaluation of disability. Especially in disability autobiog-
raphy, disabled people ‘counter their historical subjection by occupying
the subject position’ (Ibid.).
Reflections on Couser’s account of the development of

disability life writing
In Couser’s ([2005]/2010) view, the way disability has been represented

in mainstream culture has acted ‘at the expense of disabled people’
because of issues of control. While the non-disabled control representa-
tion, it may incur the disapprobation of some disabled people. Where
disabled individuals can ‘control’ their own representations and images
(for example through life writing) this is welcome.
One difficulty with Couser’s ([2005]/2010) position is that it implies
that the only people who can provide somehow real representations and
images of disability are people who are themselves disabled. If this were
so then the reverse would follow. People who had been disabled all their
lives and had not experience being non-disabled could not represent or
provide images of non-disabled people. This is surely too limiting.
Couser’s ([2005]/2010) observation that disability writing is a ‘retort’
to the ‘traditional misrepresentation of disability in Western culture’
is debatable. Is representation of disability by non-disabled people
Disability Memoirs and Student Voice 77
necessarily a ‘misrepresentation’? Or are some of the representations

genuine ones of the way disability is seen by some non-disabled people?
Of course, some representations of disability may be distasteful to disa-
bled individuals and to non-disabled individuals alike, but this does not
automatically make them misrepresentations. An image is a misrepre-
sentation only if there is out there some true representation on which
everyone can agree; a difficult conception in a pluralist and democratic
society typified by divergent views.
Couser ([2005]/2010) believes that where some individuals with disa-
bilities consider they are being represented by others, they want their
own say. It may be that sometimes ‘complete strangers’ are ignorant or
have poor manners so that individuals will ‘interrogate’ and ‘demand’
that a disabled person accounts for their disability. Undoubtedly, as
Couser states, there are anecdotal examples of this. Again there may be
examples of non-disabled people interrogating people with lung cancer
to ‘acknowledge’ they brought in on themselves. But Couser seems to be
claiming more than this, as if there are some social structural phenomena
creating a tendency, even a compulsion, to treat disabled people in this
way. This is presumably why he claims that disability autobiographies
begin from a position of ‘marginalisation’ and ‘prescription’, and that
they experience ‘historical subjection’.
Rather than assume that those who are not disabled tend to marginalise
disabled people and maintain there is a social fault line, one could take the
view put by Minogue (1995, p. 17). This is that such views misguidedly
gather specific discontents (of interrogation, demands, and insistence
that someone accounts for their disability) into a vision of structurally
determined ‘oppression’, seeking to mobilise adults with disabilities into
a struggle against the supposed oppressive system. If Minogue’s analysis
is valid, disability memoirs might not be always assumed to be written
on the back of structural oppression. They would stand a chance of being
seen as interesting and enlightening in themselves.
Couser ([2005]/2010) maintains that in approaching a disability
autobiography one should ‘attend to the politics and ethics of repre-
sentation’ because the representation of disability in these narra-
tives is ‘a political as well as a mimetic act – a matter of speaking for
as well as speaking about (Ibid., italics in original). Autobiography can
be a powerful medium enabling disabled people to “demonstrate that
they have lives, in defiance of others” common sense perceptions of
them’ (Couser, [2005]/2010, p. 533). Life narrative can give the public
‘controlled access to lives that might otherwise remain opaque or exotic
to them’ (Ibid.).
Disability life narratives can challenge representations of disability in

contemporary culture that are too frequently ‘moralising, objectifying,
pathologising, and marginalising’ (Couser, [2005]/2010, p. 534). In
doing so, they can offer ‘an important, if not unique, entrée for enquiry
into one of the fundamental aspects of human diversity’ (Ibid.).
Couser claims that some non-disabled people may assume that indi-
viduals with certain disabilities would be unable to write life accounts.
This would be a correct assumption where an individual has profound
intellectual disabilities and does not understand symbolic communica-
tion. But this is not Couser’s point. It is that such assumptions might
be made incorrectly. It might be assumed that an individual with mild
intellectual disabilities or autism spectrum disorder would be unable
to produce a memoir. As he suggests, a good way of countering such
assumptions is by publishing accounts written by individuals with these
disabilities and disorders. Where the account provides insights into the
person’s life can reveal that there is life to lead.
Categories of disability memoir
Couser (2009) categorises disability memoirs as follows:
● Rhetoric of triumph over adversity

● Gothic rhetoric
● Rhetoric of spiritual compensation
● Rhetoric of nostalgia for lost abilities
● Rhetoric of emancipation
Rhetoric of triumph over adversity

A view that disability is ‘depressing’ seems to precipitate memoirs that
represent overcoming disability as a narrative of ‘triumph over adver-
sity’ (Ibid., p. 33). Couser states, ‘this positive (and unlikely) outcome is
considered inspiring and thus generalizable to the lives of the general
reading public’ (Ibid.). He continues, ‘the lives that fit this paradigm
misrepresent the experience of most people with disabilities’ (Ibid.). The
paradigm reflects the ‘Supercrip’ who is ‘atypical of the model disabled
person’ (Ibid., p. 34). While these may be ‘true stories’, they are not
‘truly representative lives’. In such accounts ‘the narrator removes him
or herself from the category of disabled, or, alternatively, denies that his
or her impairment need be restrictive’ (Ibid.). Even worse, this model
is ‘entirely congruous with the medical paradigm’ (Ibid.). Disability is
presented primarily as a ‘problem’ that the individual has to overcome,

rather than a matter of ‘social and cultural accommodation’ (Ibid.).
For Couser these accounts contradict his preferred understanding of
disability which emphasises social aspects rather than impairment or
within individual aspects. He seems unable to accept that some disa-
bled people disagree with this view. He imposes another condition on
disability life writing too, that has to be representative, not a restriction
usually placed on non-disabled autobiographies. Generally, readers are
quite content if an autobiography is not particularly representative of
others. But disability life writing has to conform to the social model
of disability. Non-disabled people can celebrate courage and effort to
make the best of their circumstances, but disabled people are seemingly
consigned to just accepting the only thing that is worth changing is
social and cultural barriers.
Triumph over adversity
Search the internet under videos for ‘A Secretly Handicapped Man: A Memoir
of Norbert Nathanson’.
Watch the video.
Is this a memoir of triumph over adversity?
What are the author’s views?
What are your own views and why?
Gothic rhetoric
In gothic rhetoric disability is described as a ‘dreadful condition, to be
shunned or avoided’ (Couser, 2009, p. 34). It can encourage ‘revulsion
from disability’ or at best ‘pity for the “afflicted”’. People who have
‘destigmatised’ themselves can look back on ‘a period of disability as a
gothic horror’ presenting their former condition as ‘grotesque’. Readers
are invited to share the narrator’s relief at ‘escaping marginalisation’
(Ibid.). An example is Oliver Sachs’s A Leg to Stand On. The neurologist
recounts temporarily losing the use of one leg using expressions such as
‘an abyss of bizarre, and even terrifying effects’ and finding this abyss ‘a
horror’ (Sachs, 1984, pp. 13–14). For Couser (2009, p. 35) such writing
reinforces ‘common attitudes’ towards disability ‘to evoke fear, dread
and revulsion’ (Couser, 2009, p. 35).
Rather better in Couser’s view, are examples of gothic rhetoric creating
horror from accounts of treatments that have been experienced. These
have ‘some counterhegemonic potential’ (Ibid., p. 35). A cited example
is Look Up for ‘Yes’ by Julia Tavarolo which tells her account of a six-
year period following a stroke in which hospital staff assumed she was
unaware of her surroundings. This is better because it is ‘a medical
horror story of inattention, indifference, and abuse’ which ‘serves to
indict the medical care of the severely disabled, those who are assumed
to be unconscious or beyond rehabilitation’ (Ibid.). Even these accounts
are ‘entirely consonant with the medical or individual model’ and leave
‘conventional attitudes in place’ (Ibid.). They do not ‘challenge the idea
that disability resides in the individual body’ even though they might
call for ‘more attentive treatment’ (Ibid.).
The rhetoric of spiritual compensation

Couser examines Ruth Cameron Webb’s A Journey into Personhood as
using the rhetoric of spiritual compensation. The author has cerebral
palsy. Couser (2009) seems surprised that Webb does not write an
account with ‘a more political stance’ (Ibid., p. 36) because he states that
the major obstacle to her success as a counsellor was not cerebral palsy,
but ‘blatant discrimination’ and that she was ‘professionally involved
with disabled people’. Webb does not ‘question the medical paradigm’
because, according to Couser, of ‘a deeply ingrained sense of inferiority
associated with her disability’. Webb’s account is ‘a classic example of
the symbolic paradigm of disability, according to which an impairment
is a mark of sin or God’s displeasure with an individual’ (Ibid.). Her
faith ‘contributes to her sense of inferiority’ and also ‘condemns her to
anger’ (Ibid.). Her religion ‘holds out a promise of relief’, but she has an
ambivalent attitude to faith healing. There are ‘tantalising moments’
for Couser when Webb moves towards ‘a more social and political para-
digm of disability’ and has glimmers of ‘minority consciousness’ (Ibid.,
p. 37). Through such experiences, Couser states that Webb ‘approaches
the brink of consciousness of disability as a socially constructed condi-
tion, a cause (or a form) of oppression’. However, ‘She always stops
short’. Webb resolves these issues later in life when ‘a voice tells her to
give up her anger and accept God’s love’. Disappointingly, for Couser
it seems, ‘Webb can regard her life as a success only with the help of
faith’ (Ibid.). Such rhetoric ‘invites readers to assent to the condition of
Webb’s validation as a person’ In her view, ‘disability is her problem – a
challenge given to her by God for his own inscrutable reasons – not a
social or political matter’ (Ibid., p. 38). Just in case anyone might be
disposed to consider Webb’s account as persuasive, Couser offers a final
nudge in the right direction. He observes that ‘sceptical readers will see
her religious schema as part of the problem, rather than as an ultimate
or generalizable solution’ (Ibid.). Her ‘resorting to God for validation’

shuts out attempts to seek social reform, ‘short circuiting any movement
towards the competing political paradigm of disability’ (Ibid.).
The rhetoric of nostalgia for lost abilities

To look at the rhetoric of nostalgia in disability life writing, Couser
(2009) examines The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique
Bauby. Before experiencing a stroke which left him paralysed, Bauby was
the editor in chief of Elle, a magazine. His paralysis left him deaf in one
ear and mute, but able to move his left eye. He composed his memoir
by blinking to identify individual letters as a collaborator recited the
alphabet to him. The book recounts episodes before the stroke. Couser
comments that, ‘Partly, then, because his condition did not allow for his
reintegration into the world of the non-disabled, he minimised narra-
tion of rehabilitation, of which very little was possible’ (Ibid., p. 39). The
narrative trajectory concerns ‘recession’ so that ‘there is no consideration
of issues of accessibility’ (Ibid.). There is, observes Couser, ‘ ... a strong
undercurrent of morbidity in the book’ in which disability is implicitly
equated with death (Ibid.). Having become disabled, Couser observes,
Bauby ‘does not re-evaluate, but rather acquiesces in, the devaluation of
disability’ (Ibid., p. 40). Instead of questioning disability, he ‘deflects his
attention away from his present condition to his “normal” life, which
now seems all the more precious and poignant’ (Ibid.). Even though
physicians can do little for Bauby other than ‘stabilise his condition and
minimise his discomfort’, Couser notes that Bauby’s narrative ‘in no way
challenges the medical paradigm’ (Ibid., p. 42). The rhetoric of nostalgia
tends to ‘marginalise disability’ in that it is founded on equating severe
disability and the end of life (Ibid.).
Rhetoric of emancipation
Clearly, the only kind of rhetoric that Couser finds acceptable in disa-
bility life writing is that of emancipation following a social view of disa-
bility as concerning social and cultural oppression. I Raise My Eyes to Say
Yes by Ruth Sienkiewicz-Mercer and Steven B. Kaplan is the story of a
woman with severe cerebral palsy which Couser considers ‘realises some
of the counterhegemonic – indeed, postcolonial – potential of disability
narrative’ (Ibid., p. 42).
Ruth Sienkiewicz-Mercer spent time as a child in rehabilitation facili-
ties before being placed in a state hospital at the age of 12. She was
‘misdiagnosed as mentally retarded’ and ‘warehoused’ with people
who had intellectual disability or were mentally ill (Ibid.). In the
hospital, she was ‘supervised rather than educated or rehabilitated’

(Ibid., p. 43). Couser states, it was not her own severe impairments
that threatened to arrest her development ‘but the limitations of her
physicians’ (Ibid.). By gesturing with her eyes and by accompanying
sounds, Ruth Sienkiewicz-Mercer was able to communicate with other
patients and staff. ‘In this initial bonding with other inmates, we can
see the beginnings of political consciousness shared with others in the
same predicament’. Couser links these responses to Foucault’s writing
about the ‘gaze’ (although this is not referenced). Couser states, ‘Where
as the disciplinary medical gaze had sized her up (or rather, down) as
mentally deficient, through her own inquisitive and aggressive gaze she
managed to challenge or defy her misdiagnosis – and, not incidentally,
to have a social life’ (Ibid.). The means of ‘releasing herself from the
institution’ is with Steven B. Kaplan writing her account, what Couser
calls ‘collaborative self-inscription’. In this way, personal narrative is
crucial to her ‘physical and psychological emancipation’ (Ibid., p. 44).
She moves through reciprocity to a position of ‘greater power, mobility,
and personal agency’, but she does not, Couser approvingly believes,
fall into the trap of ‘subscribing to the ideology of personal autonomy’
(Ibid.). The account attracts Couser’s commendation because it is not a
rhetoric of ‘triumph’ (Ibid.). In Couser’s words, ‘The comic resolution
is not a function of removing or correcting her impairments, but of
getting the world to accommodate them – of removing the physical,
social, and cultural obstacles to her integration into the ‘mainstream’
(Ibid.). Apparently drawing on postcolonial theory (but without refer-
encing this) in speaking of the ‘Other’, Couser states that the narra-
tive, ‘ ... defies the ascription of mental deficiency to the body of the
‘Other’ and exposes the confinement of those bodies as a contingent
social phenomenon rather than a “natural” or inevitable fate’ (Ibid.,
pp. 44–45). The account ‘ ... represents, by implication, many lives that
generally go unrepresented’ because of disability (Ibid., p. 45). In post-
colonial manner, the narrative displays ‘the impulse to define oneself
in resistance to the dehumanizing categories of the medical and health-
service institutions’ (Ibid., p. 46).
Couser asserts that in I Raise My Eyes to Say Yes, the narrator ‘speaks
not as a unique individual but for a class of marginalised individuals ... ’
(Ibid., p. 47, italics in original). But for Couser, the oppressive hand of
society and ‘culture’ still effects disability life writing. He states, ‘Culture
filters and manipulates even seemingly “self-generated” texts in various
ways, protecting its interest and marginalizing and ignoring disabled
lives’ (Ibid., p. 47).
A general criticism of Couser’s analysis is that in supporting a

strong social view of disability, he seems to reject competing voices as
misguided. Surely to present the social model as being the sole view-
point is as limiting as arguing that an individual ‘medical’ model is all
encompassing. A more supportable position might be to see disability is
a variable interaction between social and cultural influences and indi-
vidual factors. Other understandings of disability may also be consid-
ered including postmodern ones.
Student voice
The wide influence of student voice

If in recent decades there has been an increase in the number and
range of memoirs by individuals with disabilities and disorders, there
has been an accompanying rise in interest in student voice and its
implications.
What is student voice? It aims to give students the opportunity to
express their views, including those about their education, to listen to
these views and to respond to them. It implies students participating
more fully in their education and being able to influence what and
how they are taught. Through student voice, learners may be involved
in decision-making, research (such as action research), and evalua-
tion in education. It can apply to the voice of an individual student
or the collective voice of students through some form of agreed
representation.
Student Councils in Victoria, Australia, are represented by the Victorian
Student Representative Council. The ‘Connect’ journal published in
Melbourne provides examples of student voice. In Canada, the Ontario
Education Act 1998 provided that district school boards include
student voice. Jean Ruddock of the University of Cambridge, England,
carried out extensive research into student voice including a project on
‘Consulting Pupils About Teaching and Learning’. In the United States,
the programme ‘Sound Out’ encourages student voice in education.
Consultation and participation

For student voice to be valued it has to be heard and elicit a response.
For student voice to be meaningful suggests that students participate
more in their education.
Student consultation has been said to rest on the principle that
students can ‘bring something worthwhile to discussions about
schooling’ (Flutter and Ruddock, 2004, p. 5). If consultation extends to
discussing what students learn and how they are taught, it appears this
can improve students’ performance (Watkins, 2001, passim). It has long
been recognised that dialogue between teacher and student about how
the student learns (metacognition) and developing ‘a shared perspective
of the learning process’ helps give the students a ‘sense of competency
and self-worth’ (Doran and Cameron, 1995, p. 22).
Student voice expressed through consultation and discussion is of
course a form of participation and a gateway to increasing student
involvement in other ways. Participation may be seen as a process of
sharing decisions that affect oneself and one’s community including
choices about one’s education. In this sense it is democratic process.
While being an expression of the democratic impulse, it also provides
students with the opportunity to take part in democratic processes and
come to understand what these are.
In a ‘ladder’ of participation proposed by Flutter and Ruddock (2004,
p. 16), the lowest rung is typified by students not being consulted at all.
The ladder ascends through ‘listening to pupils’, ‘pupils as active partici-
pants’, and ‘pupils as researchers’. The highest rung is characterised by
students being ‘fully active participants and co-researchers’ (Ibid.).
Student voice and special students
The voice of special students

The voice of special students may be very easy to hear or it may not.
Some types and levels of disabilities and disorders inhibit communica-
tion, making meaningful dialogue challenging.
Students having anxiety disorder or depressive disorder may take
considerable time to build up trust with teachers and others that
enables the student to communicate freely. Body language and
demeanour may provide clues to the student’s emotional state where
talking does not.
A student with communication difficulties may find expressive
language difficult, and the student’s education will involve ways of
enhancing communication and being receptive to what is conveyed.
Learners with autism spectrum disorder may find communication
stressful and consequently avoid situations where it is usually required.
They may lack understanding of some concepts despite having the
appropriate vocabulary.
Students with profound intellectual disability may have no spoken
language and have very limited understanding of other forms of
symbolic communication such as signing or symbols. Early work on

communication might involve establishing routines supplemented by
the use of objects of reference (which themselves require a degree of
symbolic understanding).
Deaf students may communicate using sign language either mainly or
to supplement spoken language. Students who are deafblind will learn
to communicate and participate in education using strategies such as
‘hand-over-hand’ work and touch signing. Some motor difficulties may
inhibit a student’s ability to speak or to communicate through manual
signing or gesture. Alternative and augmentative communication may
be used such as computer assisted communication that can activate pre-
programmed words or sentences with minimal movement, even with
just breath.
Lewis (2004, pp. 4–6) provides suggestions to assist communicating
with students who are ‘developmentally young’. The points include:
● permit or encourage ‘don’t know’ responses and requests for

clarification
● stress that you do not know the events or views of the student. This
is to counter the student’s assumption that the adult knows the
answers. (The student tends to be suggestible if the adult has rapport
and credibility with the student)
● use statements rather than questions to stimulate fuller responses
● if using questions, adopt a suitable level of generality. Open or moder-
ately focused questions tend to generate more accurate responses
from students with intellectual disabilities, than do highly specific
questions
● limit ‘yes/no’ questions to avoid acquiescence
● aim to elicit an uninterrupted narrative from the student (Ibid.,
paraphrased)
In many instances, the voice of special students will be able to be heard

very well. The issue then is ensuring that it is listened to and that there
is a dialogue. The Report of the Special Schools Working Group (Department
for Education and Skills, 2003) quotes some students as saying that the
mainstream schools that they had attended lacked the skills to really
listen to them or respect them. They referred to these schools ‘not
understanding special communication needs, not allowing sufficient
time, not looking at the best way of offering accessible communication’
(Ibid., p. 167).
Voice and technology
Search the internet under videos for ‘Disabled students get voice in high-tech
learning’.
Watch the video.
It describes work in a school in Canberra, Australia.
What might be the advantages of the technology described?
Do you have any reservations about the references to normalisation?
If so, what are they?
Student voice in special schools

Where commentators regard special education is oppressive, special
schools are seen as beyond the pale. Negative views of special schooling
may be related to having a ‘social model perspective’. As has been
suggested in relation to Couser’s analyses, if this view becomes one-sided
it can close one’s mind to any contrary evidence. Special schools in this
scenario are oppressive, demeaning, and damaging, and they deny human
rights. When calls for ‘inclusion’ as mainstreaming were popular in the
past, such depictions of special schools were not hard to find. An example
was given in the earlier chapter on ‘Labelling’ of a charity pressing for
mainstreaming which listed reasons against ‘segregated’ schooling; such
schools have inherent discrimination that ‘offends the human dignity
of the child’ and perpetuate ‘discrimination, devaluation, stigmatisation,
stereotyping, prejudice, and isolation’ (Centre for Studies in Inclusive
Education, 2003). When student views are listened to an uncomfort-
able realisation might dawn for those who assume special education and
special schools are oppressive. Once the voice of students is heard, it
becomes apparent that not everyone sees things in the same way.
In special schools, consulting students about their learning was associ-
ated with their having higher levels of self-esteem and confidence, being
more engaged and motivated, and being more actively involved in the
school community (Jelly, Fuller and Byers, 2000). Some special schools,
as well as emphasising the importance of student voice and communica-
tion, monitor the levels of student participation including participation
of students in mainstream school classrooms.
Stanley School, Wirral, England
Stanley School, a special school in England (www.stanleyschool.org.uk)

educates pupils aged 2 to 11 years with ‘severe learning difficulties’ (moderate
to severe intellectual disabilities) some of whom have autism spectrum

disorder. For some pupils, communication is encouraged through social stories
(Gray, 1994) and the social use of language (Rinaldi, 2001). Among strategies
to improve the participation of pupils with autism spectrum disorder are the
TEACCH approach. The special school site is shared by a mainstream primary
school, and some of the Stanley School pupils join the mainstream school for
some teaching, lunchtime activities, and leisure pursuits. These are planned,
have clear objectives, and are agreed by parents. Pupil progress is monitored
through the use of a matrix. Pupils are assessed on a five point scale which
tracks increasing levels of participation as shown by the amount of time they
spend in mainstream school, the type of activity in which they take part, the
level of supervision they have, and the type of targets that are set for them.
The school has clear evidence of progress in these areas. (For fuller details,
please see Farrell, 2008, pp. 113–114, 116).
Listening to student views

A report by a UK government working group (Department for Education
and Skills, 2003, pp. 152–170) notes positive comments from special
students who had attended mainstream schools and special schools.
Noting many positive comments about special schools, the report
pointedly concludes ‘Although some literature on pupils’ perceptions of
education suggests that they may feel special schools to be stigmatising,
no negative messages emerged from our focus groups’ (Ibid., p. 169).
Some of these comments have already been mentioned in another
chapter. Others included those of a student with multiple disabilities
following a road accident. He had attended a special school and later
transferred to a mainstream setting. He said of the special school, ‘they
made me more independent, they made me start doing things on my
own’ (Ibid., p. 156). Another student said, ‘At my special school, we got
certificates to show people we could do things. My new [mainstream]
school says I can’t do exams’ (Ibid., p. 159). One student was angry that
in his mainstream school had no private place for individual therapy
and described the embarrassment of ‘stripping down in the gym’ when
younger children were using it (Ibid., p. 163). A young woman attending
a special school said, ‘You’re not a problem because they expect you
to be like you are!’ There are more staff ready to help. When I was in
maintained my mum said I was a pioneer; they had to learn from me!
‘Now I am back in special school to get more independent – next stop
college’ (Ibid., p. 165). A student with ADHD stated of his mainstream
school, ‘there is nowhere you can go to wind down, it’s so noisy and
disturbing somehow. Sometimes all that noise just does your head in’
(Ibid., p. 163). There are numerous other such examples in the report.
Examples of other positive student views of special schools may be found

in the book Celebrating the Special School (Farrell, 2006, pp. 38–45).
A DVD produced at Muntham House School, a special school in
England for students aged 8 to 19 with emotional, behavioural, and
social difficulties, called Voice of the Child gives an impression of the
views of the students. The DVD was produced, directed, and edited by
students as part of an information and communications technology
examination course. Some questions and students’ answers from the
DVD are as follows.
Voice of the Child – Muntham House School
Why are you here?

‘Because I got kicked out of my last school. This was the last place I could
go’.
‘I set off the alarm and broke the teacher’s arm’.
‘Swearing, kicking, punching adults’.
What has the school done for you?
‘It’s made me more – I should say – stable. I don’t kick off as much. I’m not
as abusive.’
‘It’s helped me with my writing – helped me stay in class’.
‘It’s taught me how to learn – to be nice to people and be polite’.
What would you be like if you hadn’t come to Muntham?
‘Probably getting kicked out of schools and sent home’.
Where would you be?
‘Prison’.
‘Jail’.
Other comments about the school
‘You get loads of one to one attention’.
‘Staff look after the kids and the kids help the staff’.
A former student of a residential special school the Mulberry Bush School

in England wrote to the school 20 years after leaving:
A letter to the Mulberry Bush School from a former student
I attended the Mulberry Bush. I am sure none of the staff I knew are still in
attendance (after twenty something years) and the school has undoubtedly
changed dramatically. When John Armstrong was headmaster there, he had
the practice of reading letters to the children from people who had left. Here’s
my contribution.
I will never forget the life there and the profound impact it had on my
life. The love of one teacher in particular who would read me The Lord of
the Rings in our special time. I was one of the more problematic of the 36
children as I remember it, who out of a possible seven ‘big nights’ (being
allowed to stay up later) managed to garner one. That was an achievement
unto itself.
At three and a half I witnessed my mother beat my sister to death. I was
sexually abused by my aunt, though I never told anyone. Later, I would endure
some of the worst physical abuse describable. I think of the other children of
the school and the lives that bring them there. Kids whose only crime was to
be born to parents or situations that were at the very least toxic. But life has
a way of turning to roses. Today I am happily married, living in the USA with
two beautiful children. I am a published author and a successful programmer.
As you can imagine, this is a dream come true that I am sure people at the
Bush would appreciate.
Those of us who survive the brutality of the past will never forget it, but we
can rise above it. If I could give the children of my old school a piece of advice
it would simply be to have a little hope. Life has so many surprises and no
matter how bad it seems things have a way of making things work out for the
better. Sitting in front of the big tree in front of the school with people whose
names are lost to time, they could never have realised the difference they
made. Anyway, I have been wanting to say that for a long time.
(Personal communication, from the school, 2005)
Conclusion
Couser has helpfully brought together and perhaps made more widely
known many disability memoirs, persuasively analysing the origins of
these and their development for example since the Second World War.
But his view of disability purely in terms of social and cultural oppression
seems to underplay the interaction of impairment with these factors.
He decries a uni-dimensional representation of the medical model, yet
adopts an equally one-sided social perspective. While such a polarisa-
tion remains popular in some rhetorical disability studies writing, else-
where things have moved on. The interaction of individual and social
perspectives and the contribution of insights from a wide range of other
philosophical positions is much more current (Farrell, 2012). Couser
seems to encourage a view of the medical profession which risks casting
all physicians as monsters. Counterproductively, his analyses too often
seem to marginalise the views and experiences of disabled authors who
do not share Couser’s perspective.
Student’s views are increasingly being taken into account in main-

stream and special schools. Good communication and consultation are
integral to these developments. For special students, there are sometimes
particular considerations to be taken into account to help ensure the
fullest participation. Where student voice is listened to, a complex range
of views emerges showing that special education and special schooling
are highly valued by some students.
Thinking points
Reader may wish to consider:
● Examining the range of views expressed in disability memoirs with

an open mind.
● Reviewing the range of views expressed by special students about
mainstream and special schooling.
Key Texts
Couser, G. T. (2009) Signifying Bodies: Disability in Contemporary Live Writing Ann
Arbor University of Michigan Press.
Looking at disability life writing, the book includes chapters on conjoined
Schappell twins (chapter 4) and on the ‘silent’ Gibbons twins (chapter 5), as well
as the discussions of categories of disability writing that I have considered.
Couser, G. T. ([2005]/2010) ‘Disability, Life Narrative, and Representation’ in
Davis, L. J. (Ed.) (2010) (3rd Edition) The Disability Studies Reader New York
and London, Routledge (Originally published as ‘Disability, life narrative, and
representation’ in PMLA 2005, 602–606).
(PMLA is the journal of the Modern Language Association).
This article perceptively traces the development of disability life writing.
Farrell, M. (2006) Celebrating the Special School London, David Fulton.
Drawing on government reports, information from schools and local authorities,
and the views of students and parents, this volume presents the testimony of
students, parents, and others about their experience of special schools.
6
Problematizing Meaning:
Deconstruction
Introduction
‘Deconstruction’ has influenced some in special education and disa-

bility studies. In exploring deconstruction and some of its applications,
this chapter focuses on Derrida’s ([1967]/1997) book, Of Grammatology.
I examine several attempts to apply deconstruction to disability and
special education.
Finally, I suggest that more attention is paid to the deconstruction of
substantial pieces of text.
Derrida’s Of Grammatology
Structuralism as a perspective tends to seek structure in the social fabric,

reflected in binary opposites such as ‘nature/culture’, ‘speech/writing’, or
‘presence/absence’. Poststructuralism (the movement in which Derrida’s
work is positioned) developed partly in response.
Derrida’s ([1967]/1997) Of Grammatology introduces some of his key
ideas (‘grammatology’ concerns the scientific study of writing systems).
Part one includes a criticism of ‘logocentric metaphysics’ (Ibid., e.g.
pp. 8, 43), introduces ‘deconstruction’ (Ibid., e.g. pp. 14, 19, 24), and
comments on an aspect of the Course in General Linguistics developed
by the Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure ([1916]/1966). It outlines
‘a theoretical matrix’ and ‘proposes certain critical contexts’ (Derrida
[1967]/1997, Derrida’s preface, p. lxxxix).
In part two of the book these ‘critical concepts’ are ‘put to the test’
(Ibid.). This involves analysing various texts including works by anthro-
pologist Claude Lévi-Strauss and philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau. In
one chapter, Derrida ([1967]/1997, pp. 101–140) considers ‘A Writing
91
Lesson’, an extract from Levi-Strauss’s Tristes Tropiques (Levi-Strauss,

[1955]/1961) dealing with the introduction of writing to the Nambikwara
people. In another chapter, Derrida ([1967]/1997, pp. 141–164) exam-
ines an aspect of Rousseau’s Confessions (Rousseau, 1769 and published
posthumously in [1782]/2005). Much of the remainder of the second
part deals with Rousseau’s Essay on the Origin of Languages (Rousseau
[date uncertain and posthumously published in 1781]/1986).
Of Grammatology (Derrida, [1967]/1997) examines the Western philo-
sophical tradition of a perceived tendency for ‘ethnocentrism’ (analyses
suggesting the superiority of ‘Western man’ over other groups), ‘phono-
centrism’ (a prioritising of speech over writing broadly defined), and
‘logocentrism’ (the notion of irreducible ‘ideal’ or ‘transcendental’ mean-
ings). Derrida refers to logocentrism as ‘the metaphysics of phonetic
writing’ (Ibid., p. 1).
Of Grammatology
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Derrida on the truly exceptional
moment when writing Of Grammatology’.
Watch the video.
What might Derrida mean by ‘put at my disposal an interpretative edge, a
lever that was very powerful’?
Derrida’s main ideas around deconstruction
The arbitrariness of the sign

Derrida perceives a Western tradition of depicting speech as being
primary, with writing constituting a mere derivative. Speech has been
regarded as closer to meaning than writing, leading to its prioritisation
in ‘phonocentrism’ (Derrida [1967]/1997, p. 11).
Derrida’s reading of Saussure indicates some central terms and
concerns. Saussure ([1915]/1966, pp. 65–70), in the Course in General
Linguistics, presents language as a system of ‘signs’. A sign comprises a
‘signifier’ and a ‘signified’. If the signifier is the spoken word, ‘dog’ the
signified would be the concept ‘dog’. There is no intrinsic meaning in
the sounds ‘d-o-g’ that convey the concept. The sign does not gain its
meaning from being directly linked to the external object to which it
refers (the real dog), but through the similarities or differences to other
signs in the system. (It is not ‘log’ or ‘dot’).
Problematizing Meaning: Deconstruction 93
For Saussure ([1915]/1966) writing exists ‘for the sole purpose’ of

representing language (Ibid., p. 23). Sometimes people may attach more
importance to the ‘written image of a vocal sign than to the sign itself’
(Ibid., p. 24). But says Saussure, this is as mistaken as believing that more
can be learned about a person from studying their photograph than by
scrutinising the real individual. In this context, Saussure prioritises the
spoken word over the written word.
Derrida examines the implications of Saussure’s argument that the
sign is ‘arbitrary’. The signifier (the spoken word) is considered to have
no necessary relationship with what is signified (the concept). Derrida
argues that this suggests a denial of the possibility of any natural
attachment. If a sign is arbitrary and does not fundamentally refer to
reality, one sign could not be more natural than another. A spoken sign
could not be more natural than a written one. In suggesting the spoken
word has a more intimate bond with thought than the written word,
Saussure contradicts the notion of the arbitrariness of the sign. For
Derrida ([1967]/1997), ‘The thesis of the arbitrariness of the sign ... must
forbid a radical distinction between the linguistic and the graphic sign’
(Ibid., p. 44).
Furthermore, speech like writing is structured by distance and differ-
ence. A word is characterised by distance in being separated into a signi-
fier (phonic sounds) and a signified (a mental concept). Derrida views
language as a system of differences where meaning is conveyed, not by
some quality of a single word, but by its difference from other words.
Because a word does not have an ultimate meaning without reference
to other words which in turn have meaning by reference to yet others
words, meaning is postponed or deferred. To convey the simultaneous
qualities of ‘difference’ and ‘deferring’, Derrida ([1967]/1997, p. 23)
coins the term différance.
Différance and trace

More broadly, Derrida ([1967]/1997 e.g. p. 49) is concerned with the
‘metaphysics of presence’: the idea that the subject can express itself
fully in speech. Logocentrism is seen as presenting speech as the fullest
form of expression, demoting writing to a supplement. Derrida main-
tains that if this is so, then something must be absent from speech that
requires supplementing. Speech in its origins lacks something. Derrida
employs the term différance to suggest that language and meaning has
no point of origin. Meaning is always produced by the difference in
signs and is always continually deferred. The endless process of différance
is considered to unsettle the oppositions so central to structuralism.
To gain some relatively stable notion of the meaning of a sequence of

words, I cannot just capture the exact meaning of a word. The meaning
of each word has a trace of what has preceded and is open to the trace
of words to come. Each sign in the links of meaning is traced through
with all the others to make a complex, inexhaustible web. To this extent,
no sign is ever fully meaningful. Furthermore, in each sign, there are
traces of the words that are excluded for the sign to mean what it does.
These other possible signs, being constitutive of the identity of the sign
in question, somehow inhere within it. Derrida considers the trace to be
a rupture within metaphysics. The trace itself does not appear and ‘no
concept of metaphysics can describe it’ (Derrida, [1967]/1997, p. 65).
However, its path in the text can be revealed by deconstruction.
Before the question
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Derrida what comes before the
question?’
Watch the video.
Note Derrida’s interrogation of the terms ‘Being’ and ‘presence’.
He states, ‘In order to access the present as such there must be an experience
of the trace’ and ‘The trace ... involves putting into question both the ques-
tioning form of thought as well as the authority of the present or presence.’
Within this context, how would you describe the trace?
Logocentrism
Western philosophy is for Derrida ‘logocentric’: working on the premise
that there is an ultimate ‘word’ that will anchor our experience, thought,
and language. We desire a sign that will invest all others with meaning
(a ‘transcendental signifier’ giving meaning to all signs and a ‘transcen-
dental signified’ providing a centre point of meaning to which all other
signs will point). This might be ‘self’, ‘matter’, ‘substance’, or ‘God’. To
be a foundation for all thought and language, such a concept would
have to be outside these and not implicated in the language it seeks to
hold together. It must be a transcendental meaning that existed before
other meanings, a position Derrida rejects.
Any concept is permeated with the traces of other ideas and inter-
woven with the endless play of signification. Out of the play of signi-
fiers, certain meanings are made to be the centre point around which
other meanings gather; or they are privileged by social ideologies for
example, ‘democracy’, ‘order’, or ‘authority’. These meanings might be

seen as the origins of other meanings (such as alternatives to democ-
racy). But this ignores that all meanings are shot through with traces of
others. Another way of privileging certain meanings is to consider the
end to which they seem to be pointing (a teleological view). This posi-
tion would fail to recognise the interconnected nature of meaning as
presented by Derrida, sometimes known as the ‘text’.
Deconstruction
The nature of deconstruction may now be apparent. In examining texts,
one may discern and challenge certain privileged meanings and concepts
previously unnoticed. The privileging may be ideological in implying
social values that are presented as natural and therefore unquestioned,
or teleological in assuming a certain unspecified direction or goal. Such
features may go unnoticed by the author of the text, perhaps running
counter to its surface meaning. Deconstruction teases out such features,
interrogating them in a way that disrupts the structure on which the
meanings have been based.
Structuralism looks into the logic of the workings of oppositions such
as ‘culture/nature’, ‘self/non-self’, ‘reason/madness’. Poststructuralism,
especially deconstruction, suggests that these binary oppositions have
an ideological cast. We cannot completely avoid the metaphysical way
that we think in terms of such opposites nor inhabit some realm beyond
these oppositions. But it may be possible to show how a term and its
antithesis inhere in each other, showing apparently rigid boundaries to
be permeable. Small details in a text may betray the shakiness of the
‘logic’ that appears to hold the opposites together.
All writing by its nature evades logic and systems. Writing as a process
of language works by difference, but difference is not itself a concept –
something that can be thought. A text may show something about the
nature of meaning and signification which it is impossible to set out as a
proposition. All language has a surplus over exact meaning. The concept
of ‘writing’ (typified by deferral and decentring) challenges the notion of
structure typified by its centre, hierarchy of meanings, and fixed points.
Deconstruction can show how texts do not live up to the ruling systems
of logic by latching onto places where meaning reaches an impasse and
texts begin to unravel and contradict themselves. It usually involves a
close analytic reading to demonstrate that a text is not a coherent entity
and may be used to examine internal contradictions of discourse.
An example of Derrida’s use of deconstruction already discussed is
his examination of the arbitrariness of Saussure’s sign suggesting there
can be no clear distinction between the linguistic and the graphic sign.
The problematic nature of Saussure’s understanding of the sign already
exists within his own writing and deconstruction is only identifying this
difficulty.
Deconstruction
Find the website www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgwOjjoYtco.

Watch the video.
Derrida speaks briefly of deconstruction.
What do you think it might mean to say that ‘deconstruction is always already
at work in the work’?
Some criticisms of Derrida’s views
Unconvincing supporting examples for phonocentrism

In Of Grammatology Derrida outlines general ideas then provides
supportive examples. Derrida recognises the particularity of his illustra-
tions, explaining references to Saussure’s ‘project and texts’ as a ‘privi-
leged example’. He hopes that the ‘particularity of the example does
not interfere with the generality of my argument’ (Derrida, [1967]/1997,
p. 29). However, the examples are often obscure and limited texts. The
absence of comprehensive support from well-known texts weakens
Derrida’s thesis that the tradition of Western philosophical thought has
been phonocentric.
Philosopher Anthony Kenny takes the view that Of Grammatology is
‘more worth discussing than Derrida’s later work’ (personal communi-
cation, July 2013). But Kenny (2008) challenges Derrida’s view of the
phonocentric nature of Western philosophy. He suggests counter exam-
ples of the importance placed on getting things in writing within law
and business, and the concern of modern societies to promote literacy.
So weak is Derrida’s charge of phonocentrism that it ‘has to be based
on a number of eccentric texts starting with an ironic passage in Plato’s
Phaedrus’ (Kenny, 2008, p. 91).
A performative style which can seem willfully obscure

At times Derrida uses so-called performative writing to try to illustrate his
view of language. Kenny (2008, p. 91) compares Derrida’s style of expo-
sition (unfavourably) with that of philosopher J. L. Austin. Although
Austin introduced many technical terms to bring out the differences

between different types of speech acts and their elements, each is lucidly
defined and illuminated by examples. Derrida also introduces neolo-
gisms such as ‘supplement’ and ‘trace’, but seems reluctant to define
them, seeming to view the ‘very request for a definition as somehow
improper’ (Kenny, 2008, p. 91). The relevance of his illustrative exam-
ples is ‘rarely clear’ so that banal aspects of language assume ‘an air of
mystery’ (Ibid.).
One response to such criticisms may be to characterise them as exam-
ples of Anglo-American analytical philosophy being typically unrecep-
tive to Continental philosophy, but this fails to address concerns that
Derrida’s writing can be conspicuously vague. Yet, in the texts scruti-
nised in Of Grammatology, especially involving longer passages, Derrida’s
use of deconstruction can be perceptive. It can show up inconsistencies
within the aims that the work has set itself, or in relation to the broader
views expressed in a particular work.
Deconstruction as critical reading
Derrida’s analysis of Rousseau’s Confessions (Rousseau [1769 and

published posthumously in 1782]/2005) analysed in Of Grammatology
is revealing. Rousseau’s view of speech as being more immediate than
writing and therefore superior is shown to (apparently inadvertently)
contradict other aspects of Rousseau’s text.
In a lecture (later published as Derrida ([1967]/2002)), Derrida reviews
the first edition of Foucault’s book Madness and Civilisation (Foucault,
[1961 and 1972]/2006). He seizes on the contradiction of Foucault’s
trying to write about madness from the inside while maintaining
a rational account. This raises intriguing points the consistency of
Foucault’s book within its own remit. Derrida states, ‘In writing a history
of madness, Foucault has attempted – and this is the greatest merit, but
also of the very infeasibility of his book – to write a history of madness
itself ... that is madness speaking on the basis of its own experience
and under its own authority, and not a history of madness described
from within the language of reason ... ’ (Derrida ([1967]/2002, italics in
original). The starting point for this criticism is a short quotation about
Foucault’s intentions taken from his book. Derrida works on the impli-
cations of this to show how in these stated terms the book is ‘infeasible’
(Ibid.). It is hardly surprising that in a later edition of History of Madness
in 1972, Foucault complains of the potential tyranny of deconstruction
(Foucault, M. ([1961 and 1972]2006), p. 602).
Deconstruction and special education
In special education and in disability studies, Derrida’s approach of

unsettling the apparent unshakable positioning of opposites such as
‘disabled’ and ‘able-bodied’ has been found attractive.
Extending descriptions of disabled/able-bodied

One might accept that aspects of the knowledge, understanding, and
skills of a special student are less well developed than those of a typically
developing learner. This is part of the definition of disabilities and disor-
ders. However, this does not necessarily imply that all the experience of
disability has to be constituted as a negation of ability. The experience
of disability has its own realities too. Titchkosky (2002) states, ‘ ... it is
still common to regard the disabled body as a life constituted out of the
negation of able-bodiedness and, thus, as nothing in and of itself’ (Ibid.,
p. 103). It is this sole perspective (disability as inevitably the negative
opposite of normality) that a poststructuralist view may question.
Disability can be viewed diversely from a predominantly individual
perspective or in a way that takes account of personal interactions. As
Titchkosky (2002) says, ‘In this diversity, it is possible to map disability
as opposition, as a medical thing’ or alternatively as ‘an interactional
accomplishment’ (Ibid., p. 109) concerned with what an individual can
do in interacting with his environment rather than what he cannot. The
emphasis allows disability to be viewed in some respects as an accom-
plishment instead of being regarded solely as a difficulty, reminding one
that disability is one description of a person not the sole one.
The ability/disability dichotomy

Danforth and Rhodes (1997) regard disability as a social construct. They
view advocates of mainstreaming who fail to contest the ‘disability
construct’ as effectively supporting the ‘devaluation and stigmatization’
of these students (Ibid., p. 357). Accepting and using the terms ‘ability’
and ‘disability’ suggests condoning the implied ‘moral and political cate-
gories’. Conversely, questioning the term ‘disability’ allows inclusion to
be better advocated. If disability is socially constructed unjustly, it can
be ‘socially constructed in a more respectful and egalitarian way’. This
depends on finding or persuading enough people to ‘steer the momentum
of sociocultural activity in that new direction’ (Ibid., p. 359). If society
‘somehow’ lost the vocabulary of mental retardation, the currently
constructed reality of mental retardation would fade (Ibid., p. 360).
New politically and morally advantageous terms could emerge,

allowing people previously labelled to be treated with greater respect.
If language reflects and shapes the socially constructed world, changing
language might change perceived reality. Should the terminology of
‘mental retardation’ be rejected, Danforth and Rhodes (1997) maintain,
the construction of ‘retardation’ would be challenged, leading to greater
respect for children previously so labelled. Acceptance of concepts
such as ‘disabled’ delays more inclusive schooling partly because the
concept ‘disability’ already assumes the identification and separation
of one group of students from another. The ‘dis’ element of disability
already marks out the difference from the ‘ability’ part of the term.
Deconstruction can open up the binary logic supporting the separation
of children into such ‘moral and political categories based on ‘ability’
and ‘disability’ (Ibid., p. 358).
In attempting to deconstruct the binary opposites ‘ability/disability’,
the authors identify ‘ability’ as the preferred, more valued or dominant
part. Danforth and Rhodes (1997, p. 360) question the ability-disability
dichotomy whose demarcation is where ‘ ... the assumed differentiation
of the human categories ... collapses on itself, where the practical logic
of sorting children into distinct and meaningful types breaks down’
(Ibid., p. 360). They suggest that both ‘deconstruction’ and the ‘social
construction’ of disability assume that different forms of disability
‘are not physical absolutes’, but ‘social designations that are made by
people in interaction and relationships’ (Ibid., p. 359). They recog-
nise that Derrida might ‘baulk at’ this approach (Ibid., p. 353). Surely,
Danforth and Rhodes’ view that deconstructing the term ‘disability’
allows inclusion to be better advocated suggests an inflated view of
the power of language; more effective might be ascertaining whether
special students learn and develop better in mainstream or special
school.
Danforth and Rhodes (1997) consider how a parent and a school
defined reading performance to different degrees mechanically or
contextually, consequently disagreeing whether the child had a reading
difficulty (Ibid., pp. 361–362). But the authors’ claim that this has a
‘deconstructionist purpose’ and that the two supposedly opposing
definitions of reading ‘throw a paradigmatic monkey wrench into the
process of diagnosing a reading disorder’ (Ibid., pp. 361–362) seems
overstated. An alternative to ditching criteria might be to take account
of both mechanical and contextual aspects of reading as many reading
assessments in fact do.
Inverting privileged terms

In discussing deconstruction Goodley (2001, pp. 104–106) asserts, ‘In
order to speak of I (able), I must distinguish it from an other (disabled)’
adding that this simple relationship, ‘ ... is the basis of poststructuralism’
(Ibid., p. 104, italics in original). Goodley continues, ‘The sign “disa-
bled” gathers meaning through its contrast with the sign “abled”’ (Ibid.).
Signifiers are assigned opposing poles ‘ ... so that one cannot exist without
implying the existence of the other’ (Ibid.). Poststructuralism ‘ ... demon-
strates modernity’s privileging of one (able, sighted, independent) over
the other (disabled, blind, dependent)’ (Ibid.). In this privileging, the ‘one’
is held up as ‘the transcendental signifier; the ideal sign around which all
others can be anchored’ (Ibid.) Examples are, ‘Man, Freedom, Democracy,
Independence, Authority, Order’ (Ibid.). Goodley continues, ‘The one
becomes the pole around which to expound logocentrism (commitment
to reason) and teleology’ (Ibid., pp. 104–105). Unfortunately, Goodley
does not explain from where the definition of ‘logocentrism’ has emerged.
It does not appear to relate to any of Derrida’s discussions.
After referring to such binary opposites as ‘agile-lame’, ‘hearing-
Deaf’, ‘sane-insane’ (Goodley, 2001, p. 105) the author continues,
‘Poststructuralism prises open these binary opposites – these dualisms –
to ask how one has become empowered through comparison with,
and denigration of, the other’ (Ibid., p. 105). Also, ‘Poststructuralism
deconstructs these binaries through unveiling their hidden referents,
against which one is upheld and the other found lacking, revealing that
neither has a real basis in biology, nature or rationality’ (Ibid., p. 105).
Poststructuralism ‘deconstructs the binary, privileges the other (e.g. black,
woman, passion, irrational, disabled) and opens up the in-betweenness
of binaries’. There might then, Goodley states, ‘ ... be spaces for resist-
ance – creating a new epidemic – a resignification of disability’ (Ibid.,
p. 106). But once postmodernism, as Goodley seems to understand it,
privileges the other (e.g. disabled), making it effectively the ‘one’, it is
unclear why it does not then treat the newly privileged ‘other’ in the
same way and reinstate the demoted part of the binary.
Deconstructing existing hierarchies

In Bad-Mouthing, Corbett (1996) refers to the dominant discourse of ‘special
needs’ and calls for a ‘deconstruction of existing hierarchies’ leading to a
‘more liberating and open level of debate’ (Ibid., p. 42, italics added). She
states that people’s use of language shapes perception and it is possible to
‘ ... reconstruct the terms we use and the imagery that is created’ (Ibid., p. 1,
italics added). She sees philosophical discourse ‘with its focus upon the use
of language, metaphor, and imagery’ as enabling ‘a new use of words, a new

ownership of the language of disability, and a move towards deconstructing
the power of earlier discourses’ (Ibid., p. 26, italics added). Corbett says if
the ‘deconstruction of existing hierarchies’ is to result in more open discus-
sion, individuals need to cooperate to find new ways of saying things.
These new ways need to be ‘sensitive to difference’. They should ‘value
those who need help to express their views’ and should avoid creating a
new hierarchy as constricting as exiting ones (Ibid., p. 42). Language is
seen as transitory. Corbett (1996) asks, ‘When the special language, which
is no longer useful to us, is deconstructed and changed, who will decide
what is going to take its place?’ (Ibid., p. 46, italics added).
Although Corbett (1996) refers extensively to ‘deconstruction’, she
provides no references to Derrida or other authors associated with
deconstruction. She does not define what she means by ‘deconstruc-
tion’, but appears to see it as challenging dominant discourses thought
to be socially ‘constructed’, and replacing these with other language from
disability theory and the disability movement. For example she endorses
‘ ... the inclusion of divergent voices in the special needs discourse, to
counteract the concepts of ‘normality’, and to postulate new ways of
seeing differences’ (Ibid., p. 65). These views and their implications can
be questioned, but not as examples of deconstruction because they seem
to bear little relation to it.
Deconstruction of philosophy
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Derrida’s deconstruction of philosophy’

(part 1 and part 2).
Watch the video which offers one suggested way of engaging with Derrida’s
views.
Part 1: This concerns Derrida’s views on the sign.
‘The signs’ meaning is deferred’. What do you understand by this?
How is ‘text’ explained?
Part 2: What explanation of différance is provided?
Is your understanding of ‘logocentrism’ clarified?
What is meant by ‘Deconstruction is Derrida’s method of reading logocentric
texts’?
Does the explanation of hierarchical dichotomies suggest that words can be
deconstructed in isolation (or pairs)?
How does this equate with the earlier intimation that deconstruction involved
a close reading of text and context?
Suppressing the trace

Shildrick and Price (1999) consider the relationship between ‘disabled’
and ‘able-bodied’. They state that ‘able-bodied’ cannot be understood
without an ‘implicit distinction’ being made that to be able-bodied is
‘not to be disabled’. They continue that ‘because able-bodied carries with
it the trace of the other – a trace which must be continuously suppressed
if able-bodied is to carry a delimited meaning – such closure is not
possible’. Elaborating on this they state, ‘the spectre of the other always
haunts the selfsame: it is the empty wheelchair that generates disease in
the fully mobile’ (Ibid., p. 439). Close reference to Derrida is apparent
in the focus on binary opposites ‘disabled’ and ‘able-bodied’ with the
term ‘able-bodied’ seemingly taken as privileged over ‘disabled’. There is
reference to the ‘trace’ and an implication of problems with the stability
of meaning. However, if ‘able-bodied’ is the opposite of ‘disabled’ it
looks as though ‘disabled’ refers solely to physical disability, reflected by
the empty wheelchair. A clearer form of the binary opposites might be
‘wheelchair user’ and ‘able-bodied’.
Shildrick and Price (1999) then mention ‘understanding’ of ‘able-
bodied’ depending on a distinction between ‘able-bodied’ and ‘disa-
bled’. This understanding of ‘able-bodied’ cannot be full (‘closure is not
possible’) and it cannot carry ‘delimited meaning’ because of the trace
of ‘disabled’ (‘the other’). This is because the trace must be ‘continuously
suppressed’ in order that ‘able-bodied’ keeps its delimited meaning.
Referring to ‘able-bodied’ as ‘the selfsame’ (the privileged term here),
‘disabled’ as the ‘other’, and using a ghostly analogy to convey the
notion of the trace, the authors state, ‘ ... the spectre of the other always
haunts the selfsame’. Concluding poetically, they say, ‘it is the empty
wheelchair that generates disease in the fully mobile’ (Ibid., p. 439). The
implications are that if people thought more about structuralist type
binary opposites such as ‘physically disabled/able-bodied’ they might
see that the apparent hierarchies of meaning are slippery. They could
begin to recognise the involvement of a certain amount of resistance
(rather like psychoanalytic suppression) to sustain the apparent integ-
rity of the meaning of the privileged term. This might enable individuals
to think about physical disability in a way less potentially affected by
assumptions of hierarchy and consequently superiority. Perhaps this is
as far as deconstruction can go in encouraging a more rounded view of
disability.
To go further and imply that it might be psychologically better if
able-bodied people rethought meaning in this way, one could draw
on Freudian suppression. This would point to a parallel between two
pressures. The first is the cognitive effort that might be required to hold in
place the stable meaning of the privileged term in an interrelated binary.
The second would be the effort to hold emotional pressure in place of
some thought or memory that might otherwise trouble one’s well-being.
This may be what Shildrick and Price (1999) touch on when they speak
about the trace ‘which must be continuously suppressed’ (Ibid.).
Deconstruction of substantial texts

Attempts to apply deconstruction to disability and special educa-
tion have sometimes confused the vocabulary, process, and potential
of deconstruction leading to accounts that bear little resemblance to
Derrida’s work. If commentators use Derrida’s approach to deconstruc-
tion, it would help if they defined the term and provided examples
of Derrida’s use that they propose to use as models. It might then be
possible to assess the relevance of these applications to disability and
special education.
While several authors have interestingly explored deconstruction
applied to certain oppositional concepts such as ‘able/disable’, it is
harder to find examples where inconsistencies are explored in a substan-
tial piece of writing or discussion.
Derrida’s use of deconstruction is more penetrating with substantial
examples of texts. The foci of deconstruction might be small as with
Foucault’s aim of writing about madness from the inside as it were.
However, the significance of the small seeming aporias is followed
through in the work as a whole. In the Foucault example, the anomaly
was seized upon to show that History of Madness could not be written
from such a perspective.
Deconstruction might help investigate the language of substantial
documents connected with special education – policy statements, legis-
lation, or developmental curricula. Certain documents might appear
supportive of mainstreaming, but reveal language and concepts associ-
ated with separate education. Others might, on the surface, support a
range of provision including special schools, units, and resources rooms,
but under analysis show a negative view of special schooling. One might
then challenge unrecognised contradictions and aporias, and examine
their implications for the whole text.
Possible deconstruction candidates
Claims for the deconstruction of substantial passages of text do not

have to suggest prising apart binaries that unsettle the orientation of
Western philosophy, concepts of science, and human history. They can

be rather more modest. These approaches, as close and focused readings,
may sometimes indicate aspects of the text at odds with the purported
intention.
An example is a government document published in England, Inclusive
Schooling: Children with Special Educational Needs (Department for
Education and Skills, 2001). (see www.education.gov.uk/publications/
inclusiveschooling2001). The document provided statutory guidance
‘on the practical operation of the new statutory framework for inclu-
sion’ (Ibid, Overview). By ‘inclusion’ the document generally meant
mainstreaming.
The views of pupils were important. A ‘code of Practice’ had high-
lighted the importance of children and young people participating in
decisions about their education. Inclusive Schooling stated, ‘The views of
the child should be given due weight when considering whether or not
he/she should be educated in a mainstream school’ (Ibid., para. 12).
The importance of the views of parents was repeatedly stressed. The
document reminded readers that ‘In 1993 the general principle that chil-
dren with special educational needs should – where this is what parents
wanted – normally be educated at mainstream schools was enshrined
into law’ (p. 1, para. 1). Furthermore, it was stated ‘ ... it is essential that
all professionals actively seek to work with parents and value the contri-
bution they make. This is particularly important when deciding where
children with special educational needs should be educated’ (Ibid., para.
13). Parent partnership services ‘must provide full information to parents
of the wide range of options that are available for their children’s educa-
tion’ (Ibid., para. 13). Furthermore, ‘Inclusion can be an emotive issue.
Decisions about the choice of school for a child with special educational
needs have real sensitivities for parents. Where parents feel that their
views have not been respected or listened to there can be disagreement’
(Ibid., para. 14). Parent partnership services, under the Education Act
1996, section 7, ‘provide information to parents on the options and
empower them to make informed decisions’. Also, under section 9 of
the same Education Act, ‘Local education authorities must have regard
to the general principle that pupils must be educated in accordance
with the wishes of their parents, so far as that is compatible with the
provision of efficient instruction and training and the avoidance of
unreasonable public expenditure’ (Ibid., para. 16). All this pointed to
a government that would listen to parents’ views equally whether they
wanted a special school or a mainstream school. The implication was
that in either case parents’ views would be complied with unless there
were compelling reasons otherwise.
Just one paragraph revealed a different picture. It stated, ‘ ... where
parents want a mainstream education for their child everything possible
should be done to provide it. Equally, where parents want a special
school place their wishes should be listened to and taken into account’
(Ibid., p. 1, para. 4). This couple of sentences was revealing. For parents
who wanted a mainstream education ‘everything possible’ should be
done to provide it. But for parents who preferred a special school all
that is promised is that ‘there wishes should be listened to and taken
into account’. The insertion of the word ‘equally’ between these two
commitments seems to invite assent that the commitments are equal.
In fact, it only serves to highlight the inequality.
Conclusion
Clearly, individuals whether disabled or not should be respected unless

there are reasons not to respect them. Looking at what an individual
with a disorder or disability can and cannot do, and not assuming disa-
bility is inevitably about restriction, may be a reminder that disability
is only one description of a person. The notion that deconstructing
the term ‘disability’ makes it possible to better advocate inclusion over
estimates the power of language. Trying to deconstruct definitions and
assessments of reading does not have real life implications for different
approaches to reading.
Deconstructing existing hierarchies in language is thought to result
in a more liberating and open level of debate, so new non-hierarchical
ways of saying things can emerge. However, this assumes that hierar-
chical language supports real social hierarchies and that changing the
language changes the social hierarchies. This is not what deconstruction
claims. A better argued position is that in binary opposites (‘physically
disabled/able-bodied’) where a hierarchy is implied is slippery and not
always easy to justify. Consequently, resistance is involved to sustain the
apparent integrity of the meaning of the privileged term. Recognising
this might enable individuals to think about physical disability in ways
less affected by assumptions of hierarchy and superiority, perhaps leading
to a more rounded view of disability. This is more a psychological claim
than a philosophical argument.
Deconstruction applied to special education could more profitably
examine substantial pieces of text.
Thinking points
● To what extent might a close analysis of a substantial piece of text
such as a local authority or school special education policy reveal
anomalies? Could deconstruction be used to argue that any such
anomalies undermine the approach of special education? What other
responses to any anomalies could be valid?
● Can you find a government document concerning special education
that could be analysed in terms of mismatch between its purported
meaning and its detailed content and expression?
Key texts
Derrida, J. ([1967]/1976) Of Grammatology Baltimore and London, The Johns
Hopkins University Press (Translated from the French by Gayatri Chakravorty
Spivak).
A good point of entry into Derrida’s earlier work.
Glendinning, S. (2011) Derrida: A Very Short Introduction Oxford, UK and New
York, NY, Oxford University Press.
This essay provides introduces some of the key areas explored by Derrida including
‘writing’, ‘différance’, and ‘logocentrism’. The author offers more of a defence
of Derrida against what he considers unfair comments and less of a critical
appraisal of Derrida’s views.
Further reading
Eagleton, T. (2008) Literary Theory: An Introduction (Anniversary Education) Blackwell
Publishing Oxford, UK and Malden, MA.
Chapter 4, ‘Post-Structuralism’ provides a coherent reading of some of Derrida’s
major concerns and his approach of deconstruction which also manages to be
entertaining.
Drolet, M. (Ed.) (2004) The Postmodernism Reader (Foundational Texts) London and
New York, Routledge.
It includes Derrida’s review (originally a lecture) of Foucault’s book Madness and
Civilisation.
7
Immersed in Language: Discourse
Introduction
This chapter examines the nature of discourse in the social sciences,

and its relationship to disability and special education in the context
of the work of the French historian of ideas Michel Foucault. I look at
several attempts to explore discourse in relation to disability and special
education.
The nature of discourse
Discourse and discursive practices

‘Discourse’ sometimes refers to a treatise or exposition on a particular
topic. While it can suggest written communication, there is often an
assumption that it is verbal as in the case of an ‘oration’ or ‘address’.
Less formally, a discourse can be a conversation or a discussion. In
genres such as advertising, speech making, conversation, memoranda,
or a newspaper articles, particular ways of using language are identified
which are equated with discourse.
Macey (2000) defines discourse as ‘any organised body or corpus of
statements and utterances governed by rules and conventions of which
the user is largely unconscious’ (Ibid., p. 100). When used in expressions
such as the discourse of advertising or the discourse of modern art, the
term becomes ‘a near synonym for ideology’ (Ibid.). Discourse is influ-
enced by the thesis that ‘language, and symbolic systems in general, is
not an expression of subjectivity’. Rather it is ‘the agency that produces
subjectivity by positioning human beings as subjects’ (Ibid.). Similarly,
for Barker (2004) discourse comprises ‘regulated ways of speaking about
a subject through which objects and practices acquire meaning’ (Ibid.,
107
p. 54). Discursive practice is the ‘production of knowledge through

language that gives meaning to material objects and social practice’
(Ibid.). Discourses are not just ‘performances’ states Grossberg (1998),
but ‘active agents’ in the material world of power (Ibid., p. 75).
Discourse formation
In examining discourse, we are already moving towards an emerging
picture of discourse formation associated with the work of the French
historian of ideas Michel Foucault. Macey (2000) defines discourse
formation as ‘a group of statements in which it is possible to find a
pattern of regularity defined in terms of order, correlation, position,
and function’ (Ibid., p. 101). Discursive formations are ‘the products of
discourses and their formation of objects, subject positions, concepts,
and strategies’ (Ibid.). Nineteenth century psychology includes various
phenomena within the category of mental illness ‘which it constitutes
as an object of knowledge’ (Ibid., p. 101, italic added). It determines
the role of subjects (for example doctors) and produces concepts of ‘the
normal and the pathological’ and ‘generates strategies for the treatment
of the mentally ill’ (Ibid, italics added). Relations of force and power are
involved ‘at every level of discursive formation’.
Discursive formations ‘both constitute their objects and generate
knowledge about those objects’. They are ‘relatively autonomous’ and
are not ‘subject to the mechanical determination of the non-discursive’
(for example institutions). They are constituted by ‘anonymous
collections of texts that have acquired a dominant role in their field’.
(Foucault calls these ‘archives’). Discursive formations provide a theory
of ideology not dependent on ‘a crudely mechanical model of base/
superstructure’ (Macey, 2000). More briefly, Barker (2004) states that
‘Repeated motifs or clusters of ideas, practices, and forms of knowl-
edge across a range of sites of activity constitute a discursive formation’
(Ibid., p. 54).
Foucault and the dispersal of power
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘The Chomsky-Foucault debate’ (parts 1
and 2)
Watch the video.
How does Foucault explain his view that one should not assume the
independence of educational systems?
Immersed in Language: Discourse 109
Foucault and discourse
Foucault’s areas of interest included law and penology, and medicine.

He examines the conditions allowing the possibility of ways of knowing,
maintaining that the practices that shaped these are historically contin-
gent, that is, they could have been otherwise and were shaped by their
times. Accordingly, Foucault is concerned with periodic changes in
perception and knowledge, and the relationships between knowledge
and power.
In analysing the historical development of forms knowledge relating
to sexuality, punishment, medicine, the humanities, and madness, one
of his themes is ‘power-knowledge’. Seeing every relationship as a site
of power, Foucault regards resistance as part of a related fabric. He is
interested in the power relations informing the discursive formations
that make knowledge possible. Power is understood as an integral part
of knowledge which enters discourses and attitudes and everyday life
(Foucault, [various dates]/1980, p. 30).
In The Order of Things, Foucault ([1966]/2002) seeks the origins of some
of the social sciences. Sets of presuppositions of thought (‘epistémès’)
relating to the humanities and medicine are considered to be histori-
cally situated. Through these presuppositions, rational order is recog-
nised in a given period and in a given society. While epistémès are
necessary in order that reality is interpreted and discussed, they remain
obscured. Through what Foucault calls ‘archaeology’, these presupposi-
tions can be unearthed allowing underlying structures of thought to be
examined. Foucault suggests that the sciences which have taken man to
be their object are recent inventions and are already outmoded as forms
of knowledge.
Piaget ([1968]/1971) criticises Foucault’s ([1966]/2002) notion of
epistémès as ‘nothing but a search for conceptual archetypes, chiefly
tied to language’ and argues that Foucault’s programme lacks a method
(Ibid., 129). For Foucault, Man became an object of study only in the
nineteenth century. Foucault seems to view the human sciences as
‘merely a momentary outcome’ of epistémès whose sequence ‘has no
rationale’ (Piaget, [1968]/1971, p. 129). We cannot know what epistémè
will emerge. Piaget maintains that Foucault, fails to enquire ‘under what
conditions one may speak of the reign of a new epistémè’ or by what
criteria we could judge ‘the validity or invalidity of alternative interpre-
tations of the history of science’. Instead, Foucault ‘relies on intuition’,
substituting ‘speculative improvisation for methodical procedure’ (Ibid.,
p. 132). Similarly, Steiner (1971) challenges as oversimplified the idea
that there are radical changes that can be traced across many areas of
knowledge.
In Madness and Civilization, Foucault ([1961]/2006) tracing historical
transformations in conceptions of insanity and considers how madness
is made an object of knowledge. As scientific reason developed in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Foucault suggests ‘sanity’ and
‘madness’ became increasingly polarised. Insane individuals came to
be seen as out of the reach of reason. In the nineteenth and twentieth
centuries, the influence of psychiatry contributed to shaping madness
as an illness that is subject to cure and normalization. The theme as
Scruton (1985) summarizes it is that each successive age finds its own
version of ‘truth’ through which the experience of madness is trans-
muted into sanity seen as ‘the condition which is condoned and fostered
by prevailing power’ (Ibid., p. 36).
The Birth of the Clinic saw Foucault ([1963]/2003) looking at the origins
of modern medicine from the late 1700s. He proposes that there was a
shift in the structure of knowledge from a ‘taxonomic’ (classificatory)
period to an ‘organic historical’ period, allowing the possibility of a
discourse about disease.
In Discipline and Punish, Foucault ([1975]/1991) examines changes in
Western penal systems in modern times. He maintains that prison is a
new form of technological power, that of discipline, which is also evident
in hospitals and schools. Foucault traces a move from a penology having
clear links between crime and punishment (burning a hand that had
wielded a murder weapon) to a regime of surveillance. Discipline creates
conforming bodies for the new industrial age which function in various
settings. These disciplinary institutions have to constantly observe the
bodies they seek to control, ensuring that discipline is internalised as
the bodies are moulded through observation. Foucault affirms, ‘there
is no power relation without the correlative constitution of a field of
knowledge, nor any knowledge that does not presuppose and constitute
at the same time power relations’ (Ibid., p. 27). He draws attention to the
‘subject who knows’, the ‘objects to be known’, and the ‘modalities of
knowledge’. All of these must be regarded as effects of ‘the fundamental
implications of power-knowledge and their historical transformations’
(Ibid., pp. 27–28). It is the processes and struggles that traverse and make
up power-knowledge that determine the ‘forms and possible domains of
knowledge’ (Ibid.).
Shorter (1997, p. 274) dismisses Foucault’s claim that the notion
of mental illness is ‘a social and cultural invention of the eighteenth
century’. Shorter (1997) demonstrates through national statistics for

England that only minimal numbers of individuals were admitted to
private or public asylums, concluding that Foucault’s claim that this
period of the history of madness is some kind of grand confinement is
‘nonsense’ (Ibid., p. 5). He rejects both Foucault’s proposal that psychi-
atry emerged from a ‘fiendish alliance between capitalism and the central
state’, and the conclusion that psychiatrists were enlisted with a view to
‘confining deviant individuals in order to instil work discipline into an
unmotivated traditional population’ (Shorter, 1997, p. 16).
As Scruton (1985) observes, ‘The unifying thread in Foucault’s work
is search for the secret structures of power. Power is what he wishes to
unmask behind every practice, behind every institution, and behind
language itself’ (Scruton, 1985, p. 34). Each epistémè is, ‘the servant of
some rising power, and has had, as its principle function, the creation
of a “truth” which serves the interests of power’ (Ibid., p. 35). It follows
that there are ‘no received truths which are not also convenient truths’
(Ibid.) Foucault’s analysis of the ‘secret ways of power’ is expressed in
his claim that ‘each successive form of “knowledge” is devoted to the
creation of a discourse favourable to, and symbolic of, the structures of
prevailing power’ (Scruton, 1985, p. 35).
Foucault assumes, in Scruton’s view, that ‘if there is power, then it
is exercised in the interests of some dominant agent’ (Scruton, 1985,
p. 42). In this way, ‘by sleight of hand, he is able to present any feature
of social order – even the disposition to heal the sick – as a covert exercise
in dominion, which aims to further the interests of “those in power”’
(Scruton, 1985, p. 42). Consequently, ‘Any fact of social order will neces-
sarily bear the fingerprints of bourgeois domination’ (Ibid.). Foucault’s
appeal seems to lie in the ‘deft way in which he puts power and domina-
tion in the place of truth and understanding’ (Scruton, December 2013,
personal communication).
Foucault and disciplinary techniques
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Foucault on disciplinary power’ (parts 1
and 2).
Watch the video.
How other than in prison regimes does Foucault think that disciplinary
techniques are exercised?
Discourse and disability
The materiality of the body

Tremain (2002) develops a criticism of the social model of disability
challenging the models’ distinction between the socially constructed
aspect of disability and the material element of bodily impairment.
Reiterating Foucault’s approach, Tremain (2002) sees the materiality of
the body as associated with the historically contingent practices that
‘bring it into being’ and that make impairment an object of knowledge
(Ibid., p. 34). The materiality of impairment and impairment itself are
‘naturalised effects of disciplinary knowledge/power’ (p. 34, italics in
original). ‘Impairment’ has circulated in discursive and concrete prac-
tices as ‘non-historical (biological) matter of the body’. But this matter is
‘moulded by time and class’ and is ‘culturally shaped’ (Ibid., pp. 34–35).
Consequently, impairment has stayed as an unexamined, politically
neutral underpinning of discourse.
Because developments that led to the perceiving of the human body
as an object of knowledge are historically contingent, they can be inter-
rogated and dismissed or accepted, Tremain (2002) argues. As these
developments are intimately related to knowledge and power, the power
can be challenged and the knowledge questioned (Ibid., pp. 34–35). One
can challenge objectivising and separating practices, and question the
subject’s collusion into accepting the perceptions of others as part of
their own identity.
Tremain (2002) criticises the separation of impairment and disability
proposed by the social model so she can theorise the nature of impair-
ment and biomedical practices. The social model accepts impairment as
an ‘ ... objective, transhistorical and transcultural entity which biomedi-
cine accurately represents’ failing to recognise it as a ‘historically contin-
gent effect of modern power’ (Ibid., p. 34). Tremain (2002) argues that
impairment is itself a ‘discursive object’. However, exclusionary practices
make it appear that impairment precedes discourse. Through discipli-
nary practices the subject is ‘inducted and divided from others’ making
impairment seem ‘their prediscursive antecedent in order to multiply,
divide, and expand their regulatory effects’ (Ibid., p. 42).
Tremain maintains, ‘The testimonials, acts and enactments of the
disabled subject are performative’. This is because the ‘prediscursive’
impairment which they are purported to disclose does not exist prior
to, or separate from, ‘those very constitutive performances’ (Ibid.). To
be sure, impairment is the ‘embodiment of a natural deficit or lack’.
But this obscures that ‘the constitutive power relations’ defining and
circumscribing impairment ‘have already delimited the dimensions of
its reification’ (Ibid., pp. 42–43). Tremain (2002) rejects the separability
of disablement and impairment because it ignores that the category of
impairment emerged and persists ‘to legitimise the disciplinary regime
that generated it in the first place’ (Ibid., p. 43).
Tremain’s analysis by seeking to bring disability into the ideology of
discourse shifts the suspicion that malign hidden power is at work from
‘disability’ to ‘impairment’. The aim is similar, that if you can recognise
the way impairment is circumscribed, you can challenge the ‘power rela-
tions’ that constitute it. Yet, where is the systematically embedded malign
intention in the social structures that aim to save life, cure illness, and
support the embodiment of a natural deficit or lack? The basic assump-
tions of bourgeois exploitation are not made explicit or convincing.
Also, if power-knowledge structures are all pervasive and replaced only
by other power-knowledge arrangements, how can you guarantee that
new power-knowledge structures will be benign? If the aim is to get
rid of power-knowledge structures altogether, even assuming that this
is possible, what would social relationships look like in this scenario?
Tremain, like Foucault himself, has little to say on this crucial matter.
Discourse and special education
What is wrong with current special needs discourse?

Corbett (1996), in her book Bad Mouthing: The Language of Special
Needs, claims that special needs discourse has fostered curricula that
are ‘Eurocentric, narrowly value laden, and sometimes, oppressive’
(Ibid., p. 8). The examples of oppressive curricula provided to support
this suggestion are not very extensive, but are limited to a core skills
programme developed in England the 1970s. This included guidance
on acceptable behaviours which it is said ‘demonstrates the level of
conforming to a rigidly Eurocentric, middle-class, and restrained model
of performance’ (Ibid., p. 12).
It is stated that the language of ‘special need’ can be disguised in ‘the
imagery of protection, care, tenderness and love’ which is no more than
‘sugar-coated poison’. Special needs language has always been made up
of words and images engendering ‘fear, mistrust, loathing, and hostility’
such as ‘idiot’, ‘imbecile’, ‘moron’, and ‘spastic’ used as terms of abuse
(Ibid.). It is also the ‘language of sentimentality and prejudice’ (Ibid.,
p. 5). Corbett (1996) seems to assume that historical language such as
‘idiot’ and ‘imbecile’ started as hostile; a view I questioned in the earlier

chapter on historical terminology.
Corbett (1996) sees special needs student discourse as one which is
mainly individualistic and which attributes learning difficulties to
family and social factors (Ibid., p. 16). Corbett is correct that special
needs concerns mainly (although not exclusively) within child and
family perspectives. Part of the process of determining special educa-
tional provision is identifying that a student has a disability or disorder
leading to difficulties with learning and development indicated by
slower than typical progress. However, environmental factors are exam-
ined (for example checking if slow progress is the result of poor teaching)
before deciding that the student might be entitled to special educational
provision.
It is claimed that ‘special needs’ is socially constructed and that a
distinct language has been developed ‘to sustain, contain and control it’
(Corbett, 1996, p. 7). Some special students are ‘marginalised and given
inferior status’ which can be understood by exploring language (Ibid.,
p. 3). However, as I discussed in the chapter on ‘Labelling’, parents
and students in special education and special schools often consider
that their education is central, and has high status despite the efforts
of commentators to demean such education. (See also, Farrell, 2006a,
2008b).
The dominant discourse in special education for Corbett (1996) is
associated with ‘power, status, and confident authority’ (Ibid., p. 15). If
this view draws anything from Foucault it faces the same difficulty that
power-knowledge permeates all. Firstly, criticisms of one set of power
structures need to specify why they are malign rather than beneficial
to justify any efforts to change them. Secondly, some explanation is
required of how any new power structures can be expected to be an
improvement. Otherwise, one set of power structures may be traded
only for another which may be no better, not levelled into an egalitarian
utopia.
If Corbett’s views of special education and its associated language are
open to challenge, her solutions to the supposed oppression of those
with special needs may be more convincing.
Challenging and subverting the dominant discourse

Corbett (1996) puts together what appear to be suggestions from social
constructivism, Foucault and Derrida, without spelling out the sources
or how she interprets them. This is unfortunate because it prevents the
reader from examining the credibility of Corbett’s sources and following

the arguments by which she moves from such sources to her various
claims that the language of ‘special need’ is ‘sugar-coated poison’.
Nevertheless, perhaps some sort of attempt can be made to engage with
Corbett’s main points.
Corbett (1996) maintains that if special needs are socially constructed,
and people’s use of language shapes perception, it should be possible to
‘ ... reconstruct the terms we use and the imagery that is created’ (Ibid.,
p. 1). She regards language as ‘a source of power and control.’ It can be
contested and ‘words need to be won’ (Ibid., p. 46). A focus on ‘the use
of language, metaphor, and imagery’ could herald ‘a new use of words, a
new ownership of the language of disability, and a move towards decon-
structing the power of earlier discourses’ (Ibid., p. 26). ‘Existing hierar-
chies’ should be deconstructed leading to a ‘more liberating and open
level of debate’ (Ibid., p. 42).
It is suggested that the dominant special needs discourse be challenged
by ‘competing voices’ (Corbett, 1996, p. 7). This should include strands
of ‘disability culture’ such as theorising, poetry, drama and personal
narrative, and the language of rights (p. 95). Also important are ‘the
influence of new discourses, personal narratives, and the use of meta-
phor’ (Ibid., p. 3). The language of special needs has to change and be
‘subverted by those who have been oppressed by it’ (Ibid., p. 5). Effort
should be made to ‘replace the language of stigma with the language of
pride’ (Ibid., p. 24).
Levelling out hierarchies

Corbett (1996) depicts a hierarchy of discourses headed by ‘medical’
followed by ‘psychology’, ‘sociology’, ‘philosophy’, ‘politics’, ‘civil rights’,
and ‘disability arts’. A way of challenging this hierarchy is ‘Changing the
way we use “special needs” languages; conceptualising fresh metaphors
for disability; bringing marginalised discourses to the centre; reframing
ways of listening; fostering unheard debates; relocating old hierarchies;
forging new words in multiple arenas’ (Ibid., p. 35).
Corbett believes that ‘New ways of looking can gradually create new
contexts, which transform power relations’ (Ibid., p. 39). She wants to
see the deconstruction of existing hierarchies leading to a more ‘liber-
ating and open level of debate’ with people collaborating to find ‘new
ways of saying things’. These should be ‘sensitive to difference’ and
should value ‘those who need help to express their views’. It should not
recreate a new equally constricting hierarchy (Ibid., p. 42).
Metaphors, images, and new words

Corbett (1996) states that ‘defensive subcultures’ tend to ‘resist external
definitions and create their own metaphors’. The question of naming
becomes an early battleground for minority groups (Ibid., p. 53).
Divergent voices need to be included to ‘ ... counteract the concepts
of “normality” and to postulate new ways of seeing differences’ (Ibid.,
p. 65). Disabled theorists are ‘forging new ways of thinking built on
direct experience’ (Ibid., p. 60).
To eliminate the most damaging aspects of dominant disability
discourse, it might be possible ‘ ... to filter in new words and concepts
which subtly and significantly change the old discourses’ (Corbett,
1996, p. 84). Corbett (1996) wants ‘new languages’ to be given status and
consequently be respectfully listened to. For this to happen, these new
languages ‘need to manipulate the imagery of the dominant discourse
and replace out-moded metaphors.’ This can be done in literary forms
‘where artistic expressions or witty anecdotes create new and memo-
rable images’ (Ibid., pp. 86–87).
Some difficulties with Corbett’s approach

Corbett (1996) asks, ‘When the special language, which is no longer
useful to us, is deconstructed and changed, who will decide what is going
to take its place?’ (Ibid., p. 46). This presupposes several questions. What
exactly does ‘useful’ mean in this context? Who is the ‘us’ that special
language is no longer useful for? What happens if other people’s social
construction of reality is different to the one you support? Can language
be deconstructed and changed, and, if it can, then what effect, if any,
might this have on social and cultural trends? Can anyone decide what
uses of language will take the place of existing ones?
It is unlikely that deconstructing discourse hierarchies, trying to win
words, and using metaphor in creative ways will change social, cultural,
and attitudinal factors, or that it will create new knowledge. Trying
to replace the language of stigma with the language of pride assumes
that language is in the driver’s seat, a position I have suggested is over
stated.
Corbett (1996) dislikes the term ‘special’ because applied to disa-
bled people it highlights relative powerlessness ‘rather than conferring
them with honour and dignity’ (Corbett, 1994, p. 49). She adds, ‘If we
are struggling with the term “special”, we need to assess how people
with learning difficulties have been treated by being seen as “better”,
in the sense of lacking the ruthlessness and selfishness which are seen as
human (male) traits’ (Ibid., pp. 49–50, italics added). After talking about
according ‘honour and dignity’, Corbett’s assertion that ruthlessness and

selfishness are ‘male traits’ sounds like good old-fashioned prejudice.
Foucault and the culture of self
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Foucault and the culture of self’ (parts 1
through 7).
Watch the videos.
How does the ‘culture of the self’ relate to many of Foucault’s other
concerns?
Special students as discursive subjects and objects of

knowledge
Allan (1996) contends that research into special students educated in

mainstream schools indicates little about their school experiences. By
contrast, Foucault can provide strategies for understanding how discourses
on ‘special needs’ construct students’ experiences in mainstream schools
and builds their identities as ‘subjects and objects of knowledge’ (Ibid.).
Allan applies Foucault’s ([1975]/1991) notions of surveillance through
hierarchical observation (Ibid., pp. 170–177), normalising judgement
(pp. 177–184), and the examination (pp. 184–194).
Allan (1996) suggests that in special education, hierarchical observa-
tion is evident in the higher staffing ratios special students attract, which
allow closer scrutiny. Normalising judgements are apparent in the way
special students are ‘defined in relation to normality’ (Ibid., p. 223).
The ‘examination’ is equated with assessment determining whether a
child has a disability or disorder leading to entitlement to special educa-
tion. Foucault’s view of power relationships provides the opportunity of
looking for special pupils ‘challenging the identities they are given’ or
choosing ‘alternative experiences’ (Ibid., p. 225).
Perceiving a power-knowledge fabric of special education, Allan
(1996) argues that individuals should resist assuming an identity shaped
by others. There are, however, other power-knowledge structures and
fabrics around special children. Some lobby groups, researchers and
academics, ‘critical’ psychiatrists and psychologists press for the main-
streaming of special children. They may seek to dismantle what is seen
as an oppressive system of identification and provision in special educa-
tion. Allen does not explain why one should resist the power pervading
special education rather than that pervading efforts to encourage

‘integration’.
In her discussion of the ‘examination’, Allan (1996) claims that when
a formal assessment is made there is often little doubt about the ‘special
educational need’, although ‘the notion of difference is itself socially
constructed’ (Ibid., p. 224). Multidisciplinary assessment gathering
information about the child and his home background is ‘primarily a
political and social process’ (Ibid.).
No justification is provided in the body of her article for these state-
ments. It could be argued that such assessments and special educa-
tional provision might lead to better progress, development, and
well-being, rather than simply marking the student out ‘for perpetual
surveillance’ (Ibid.). Also, more generally, if a power-knowledge
matrix pervades all social life, further justification is needed as to why
one set of power-knowledge relationships might be challenged rather
than others. If a set of power-knowledge relationships is considered
malign, commentators might explain why, or produce evidence of ill
effects. As with other commentators, Allen does not spell out the new
arrangements where new power-knowledge structures apply or where
none apply.
Special needs identities
A study by Benjamin (2002, pp. 10–11 and passim) concerned how

‘special educational needs’ identities might be influenced by discourses
in a girls’ secondary (high) school in England. The research explores
tensions between two aims:
● the requirement that students reach certain expected standards of

academic attainment
● including all students in school life and learning
The researcher recognises the material reality of disabilities and disor-

ders, but also examines the role of narratives in shaping and reflecting
identity. It is suggested there is ‘intellectual subordination’ of students
which is linked to unequal relations (Ibid., p. 6). The same study sees
‘dominant’ discourses about examination success as discourses about
power. However, if schools are not about students learning something
and being able to demonstrate what they have learned, it is difficult to
know what they are about. The school might be over emphasising exam-
inations in which some students (for example those with intellectual
disability) might not succeed. But schools then normally offer credible
and challenging alternative accreditation.
Benjamin (2002) seems to be critical that special education does not
make all students attain equally. In the context of requirements that
students reach certain standards and the aim of ‘including’ all, some
students attain less well than others, giving rise to unequal relations. But
it is difficult to see how discourse analysis leads to the conclusion that
this is ‘intellectual subordination’ (Ibid., p. 6). Is this suggesting that the
special students are being kept down rather than that they have ‘real’
difficulties in learning? Is this a comment on the schools’ (or society’s)
valuing of students of different abilities rather than of special educa-
tion itself? These questions are left unexamined. The term ‘intellectual
subordination’ suggests an active oppression of students that the study
does not demonstrate.
Such studies may give rise to a greater awareness of the importance
of students’ views, but these should not be filtered through initial
prejudice.
Constructing children as ‘other’
Priestley (1999) describes a study involving ‘disabled children’ at

two mainstream high schools. This included informal discussions
and participant observation with about 20 students aged 11 to 16,
focusing on ‘disabled children’s own experiences and perspectives’
(Ibid., p. 92).
Priestley tends to refer to disabled students up to the age of 16 years
as ‘children’ and their non-disabled peers as ‘pupils’. He appears to
begin with a view that disabled students face predominantly negative
experiences. Priestley states, ‘Disabled children are confronted on a daily
basis with ways of speaking about disability that influences their experi-
ence and their sense of identity’ (Ibid, italics added). He adds, ‘Negative
portrayals of disability abound and disabled children in particular have
been subject to institutional discourses of tragedy, medicalization, and
otherness’ (Ibid., italics added). Media portrayals and ‘legislative catego-
ries’ are said to be ‘reproduced through daily encounters with other chil-
dren, with adults, and with a variety of institutional contexts’ (Ibid.).
Disability is presented as a social concept. It is stated, ‘The discourses
that disabled children encounter in a mainstream high school, and the
discursive categories they acquire in the process, contribute both to their
own identity development and to the construction of disability as a
social concept’ (Ibid.). Furthermore, ‘The dominant nature of “charity”,
“treatment”, “provision”, and “abuse” suggest none reciprocal proc-

esses in which disabled children are more acted upon than acting. They
are often stories of passivity, surveillance, and confinement’ (Ibid., italics
added).
The research takes the view that, in high school, disabled ‘children’
become known ‘through a variety of discourses’ (Ibid., p. 94). Formally,
these include the process of identification and ‘institutional arrange-
ments which differentiate them from other pupils’ such as an assistant
sitting next to the student or being educated separately in a unit (Ibid.).
Informally, disabled children are ‘made known’ by ‘the way other adults
and children in the school talk about them, and by the way these refer-
ences are either accepted or challenged by others’ (Ibid., p. 95). For
example, teachers ‘seemed less likely to punish disabled children for
minor rule breaking incidents’ despite ‘clear guidelines for disciplinary
action’ (Ibid., p. 95). Priestley raises questions about exchanges between
students, and between students and staff. For example, is there an
implication that ‘Disabled children can’t help being naughty?’ or that
‘Disabled children can’t produce work on their own?’
It is stated that ‘ ... disabled children also make themselves known
through their own talk and through resistance to received discourses’.
The ‘most obvious resistance among the children was in response to
name calling and teasing by other (non-disabled) pupils’ (Ibid., p. 97).
These included ignoring and retaliating, which is of course the way most
young people might react. Priestley concludes of the disabled ‘children’,
‘These are not the passive, vulnerable children of the Dickensian novel
or the socio-medical research literature’ (Ibid., p. 98). There is no expla-
nation of who Priestley has met that thought that special students had
just stepped out of a Dickens novel.
Regarding disability identities and strategies for resistance, Priestley
notes two points. Firstly, ‘the children’ rejected ‘negative disability
labels, especially from other students’. However, they were able to ‘skil-
fully manipulate disabled identities’ when they thought it would benefit
them (Ibid., p. 99). Priestley suggests that ‘The construction of children,
and especially of disabled children, as passive subjects has legitimised
falsely premised claims to objectivity on the part of disability researchers
in the past’. Recognising ‘disabled children’ as ‘creative social actors is to
acknowledge that they will act just as consciously when they are “being
researched”’ (Ibid., p. 101).
Disability discourse in schools can create pressures on ‘children’ to
identify with ‘one of two logically opposing categories – disabled or
non-disabled – which are also hierarchically arranged’ (Ibid., p. 102).

The integration of ‘children with impairments’ into mainstream
schools has ‘provided many opportunities to blur these discursive
boundaries, especially among children themselves’. However, Priestley
concludes, ‘the language of “special need”, and the discursive prac-
tices used to police it, continue to construct disabled children as other’
(Ibid., p. 102, italic added). Perhaps this reference to ‘policing’ is the
final example of Priestley’s own perceptions and negative views of
special education.
This highlights a general risk in social constructivist research. If
the researcher goes into the study already ‘knowing’ that students are
‘oppressed’ and that there is ‘intellectual subordination’ for example,
there is a risk of selecting evidence appearing to support this. A better
way would surely be to enter the original research with a more open
mind. One may have several tentative ideas, but one can be open to the
possibility that they will be unsupported or partially supported. If one
or more of the possible hypotheses appear more plausible than others,
the whole evidence can then be reviewed to see if the hypothesis holds
more widely. Social constructionist research would be stronger if this
were made much more explicit in particular studies.
Conclusion
The relevance of discourse is indicated by attempts to apply Foucault’s

work to disability and special education. The ‘epistémè’ and the ubiq-
uitous nature of power-knowledge are thought to provide strategies for
understanding such discourses. The idea that discursive formations both
constitute their objects and generate knowledge about those objects
suggests, for some commentators, that historically constituted objects
and knowledge can be constituted differently in later times. Yet, the
persistent search for hidden vindictive sources, the unexplained myste-
rious way in which epistémès emerge, and criticisms of Foucault’s own
interpretation of historical facts challenge his ideas.
Tremain’s (2000) analysis of impairment as separate from disability
challenges the validity of the social model. The idea that if one can
recognise the way impairment is circumscribed and the ‘power rela-
tions’ that constitute it can be challenged is as open to question
as Foucault’s original work on which it is based. Also, all pervasive
power-knowledge structures might be detected, but do not then
simply dissolve. Corbett (1996) seems overly optimistic in claiming
that deconstructing discourse hierarchies, struggling to win words,

and using powerful imagery will change social, cultural, and attitu-
dinal factors or create new knowledge. In applying Foucault’s ideas
to school contexts, Allan (1996) seems to insufficiently recognise
the ubiquitous nature of power-knowledge frameworks. She does not
explain what different power-knowledge structures would take the
place of the ones she dislikes, or if no such structures are envisaged,
how this would work.
In Benjamin’s (2002) study of how ‘special educational needs’ iden-
tities might be influenced by discourses in a school, the claim that
the analysis of discourses shows that there is ‘intellectual subordina-
tion’ (Ibid., p. 6) is not substantiated. However, such studies might
encourage professionals to listen more attentively to students’ views.
Priestley’s (1999) study of disabled students’ perspectives at a main-
stream high school examines interactions between participants. Even
if one questions Priestley’s view of the alienating nature of special
needs discourse, the study provides interesting material on the
possible development of relationships and identity in various social
exchanges.
Thinking points
● How might the discourse of several school special education policies
be studied?
● How would you examine discourse in order to study power-knowledge
relationships in a school?
Key texts
Foucault, M. ([1975]/1991) Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison New
York, NY and London, Penguin Books (Translated from the French by Allan
Sheridan).
A vividly written interpretation of developments in penology before and after
the Enlightenment. The perspective of ‘discipline’ extends to schools and other
institutions.
Further reading
Allan, J. (1996) ‘Foucault and special educational needs: a ‘box of tools’ for
analysing children’s experiences of mainstreaming’ Disability and Society 11,
2, 219–233.
One of the few attempts to relate some of Foucault’s ideas directly to special
education.
Corbett, J. (1996) Bad Mouthing: The Language of Special Needs London,

Routledge.
A book exploring discourses of special education and their interaction with other
discourses.
Tremain, S. (2002) ‘On the subject of impairment’ in Corker, M. and Shakespeare,
T. (Eds) Disability/Postmodernity: Embodying Disability Theory London,
Continuum.
Concerns the nature of the ‘subject’ (individual).
8
Analysing Concepts in Special
Education
Introduction
This chapter examines concepts (general ideas) associated with special

education. I mention ‘ordinary language’ philosophy concerned with
how philosophical terms are used in everyday language to illuminate
traditional philosophical problems. More prosaically, an examination of
terminology involves clarifying terms and exploring the range of mean-
ings of words, ensuring debates are focused on issues rather than waylaid
by terminological misunderstandings. I look at several concepts relevant
to special education including development, therapy, and access.
Ordinary language philosophy
White (2000) describes the Oxford philosopher J. L. Austin as ‘ ... the

leading spirit of so-called “ordinary language” or linguistic philosophy’
(Ibid., p. 51). This philosophy has a ‘characteristic method of investi-
gating the nature of ideas such as perception, knowledge, intention, act
or freedom, which are of interest to philosophers’ (Ibid.). This method
was ‘a rigorous, detailed, patient, comprehensive, and cooperative
examination of the ways in which these terms are normally used in
everyday language’ (Ibid., pp. 51–52). His hope was therefore ‘ ... to make
philosophy more like the empirical sciences’ (Ibid., p. 52).
In How to do Things with Words, Austin ([1962]/2009) considers
so-called ‘speech acts’ and distinguishes locution, illocution, and perlo-
cution. Locution is what we say (He said to me, ‘You can’t do that’);
illocution is what we do in saying the utterance (He protested against
my doing it); and perlocution is what we do by saying the utterance (He
pulled me up) (Examples taken from Austin ([1962]/2009, p. 102). Searle
124
Analysing Concepts in Special Education 125
(1969) develops some of Austin’s ideas in his, Speech Acts: An Essay on the
Philosophy of Language.
Examining terminology in disciplines other than

philosophy
While ordinary language philosophy, despite its name, has some tech-
nical aspects (it is after all about ‘ordinary’ language and does not itself
claim to be always as accessible as ordinary language), its core activity of
examining terminology closely can be applied widely. We can examine
terminology in different spheres and disciplines including in special
education. The ordinary language philosophy method of ‘a rigorous,
detailed, patient, comprehensive, and cooperative examination of the
ways in which these terms are normally used in everyday language’
(White, 2000, p. 51) can be illuminating.
It can involve clarifying terms and exploring the range of meanings of
words. This can ensure debates are more focused on issues and not side-
tracked by hidden misunderstandings and disagreements about termi-
nology. Such analysis involves exploring the range of meanings of key
concepts. It may include examining a range of uses of terms and possible
tensions between them. Although word origins may be examined, the
main consideration is use. How is the word used currently? Was it used
differently in the past and, if so, what has brought about the change? Is
the term used in different and potentially confusing ways by different
people and why?
The range of concepts relating to special education
Some concepts that have been analysed and discussed in special educa-
tion are philosophical ones such as ‘free will’ and ‘justice’. Others are
terms that may be widely used, but are not often discussed in themselves
for example ‘need’ and ‘special’.
The notion of ‘reason’, ‘free will’, and ‘autonomy’ have been analysed
in relation to individuals with profound intellectual disability. It was
suggested that liberal theory is weak in offering protection to such indi-
viduals because they are considered to have to a very limited degree
the powers of ‘reason’ and ‘free will’ that constitute a moral person in
liberal theory (Reinders, 2000, passim). This has implications for the
moral convictions and motives of parents who care for children with
profound intellectual disability. Those who educate these children may
be motivated by convictions similar to those of parents. Teachers and
others may not use considerations of rationality and free will as justifica-
tions for their commitment to teaching these students. However, these
educators still value the powers of free will and rationality as expressed
in their attempts to encourage these in students, and as reflected in
curricular and pedagogy considered suitable for students with profound
intellectual disability (Farrell, 2004b, pp. 75–85).
‘Discrimination’ has been analysed in the context of special educa-
tion indicating the contested nature of equality of opportunity and
contrasting the perspectives of ‘justice as fairness’ and a ‘rights view
of social justice’. Also relevant are ‘top down’ and ‘bottom up’ views
of discrimination and their relation to equality of opportunity (Farrell,
2009a). Discrimination can also be seen as not depending on equality of
opportunity arguments, but as failing to ensure someone is in a ‘good
enough’ position (Cavanaugh, 2002).
Child development milestones
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Child development milestones (baby
development)’.
Watch the video of the paediatrician talking about milestones of development
for babies.
What are some of the milestones in different month phases?
What is the usefulness of being aware of such typical aspects of
development?
Search for ‘National Dissemination Centre for Children with Disabilities’,
click on ‘Developmental milestones’ and review the text.
What might be some of the negative aspects of expecting every child to
develop in a similar way?
Development
Concept of development
Development in general usage refers to something significant happening
or changing. A housing development involves the erection of new dwell-
ings. News reporters speak of further developments in an ongoing story.
In music, an initial theme may be developed which indicates that some-
thing new or different follows from what went before. For development
to be a meaningful expression there is an implication that an earlier
stage or origin is known and that the ‘development’ stems from this.
Closely related to ‘development’ the suffix ‘genesis’, referring to origin

or provenance, is used in several words where development is conveyed.
‘Neurogenesis’ refers to the development of nerve cells. ‘Psychogenesis’
concerns the development of a disorder that is considered to have
psychological origins. ‘Cytogenesis’ has to do with the growth of cells
and their variation. ‘Ontogenesis’ refers to the development of an indi-
vidual organism from the earliest stage to maturity, and sometimes refers
also to the development of behaviour or some anatomical feature.
Human development
‘Development’ in the sense of human development especially in child-
hood and adolescence refers to a process of growth. An associated term
is ‘advancement’, which in certain contexts concerns moving forward.
Similarly, ‘progress’ concerns movement towards a goal, proceeding,
or moving towards a higher stage. ‘Maturation’ conveys the process
of becoming mature, suggesting moving towards a fuller capacity.
Development (like maturation) implies the idea of something that is
latent unfolding.
The development of a seed follows expected progress, moving towards
an anticipated outcome. Connotations of expected growth or matura-
tion lead to the notions of ‘under development’ and ‘over development’.
One may also refer to ‘typical development’.
For convenience, we distinguish different types of development
although they are often closely interrelated. We may speak of ‘phys-
ical development’, ‘intellectual development’, ‘language development’,
‘emotional development’, ‘social development’, ‘personal development’,
and so on.
Against the background of typical or anticipated development, mile-
stones are sometimes identified indicating what is expected. Reaching
such milestones at the usual time (within a certain range to allow for indi-
vidual variations) suggests that development is proceeding as expected.
Not reaching such milestones may suggest difficulties with develop-
ment. There is no implication that human development happens in
isolation, but rather that it is influenced by the environment in a broad
sense. This includes the environment of the womb, that of the family,
and the surrounding physical and emotional setting in which the child
and young person is situated.
Some criticisms of views of development

The term ‘development’ is used in special education when referring to
typical and to atypical development. Indeed, an aim of special provision
is to encourage special students’ academic progress, and personal and

social development (Farrell, 2010, p. 1 and passim).
The concept of development in special education is sometimes criti-
cised for assuming that non-typical development is inferior. Having
typical development as a yardstick, it is suggested, undervalues students
who are not developing typically. The term ‘developmentalism’ may
be used to suggest malign motives on the part of those taking typical
development seriously. This seems to confuse development and value.
It is not necessary to assume that lower value is part of the concept of
development. A child whose language is not developing typically does
not, by anything intrinsic to the concept of development, become less
valued. On the contrary, noting that language development is slower
than typical can allow timely interventions to be made to encourage
development so difficulties are not compounded. For many, this speaks
of valuing not devaluing the student.
The alternative is to do nothing and celebrate diversity. However, this
tends to be unacceptable to parents whose child may not be developing
typically. The identification of autism spectrum disorder is informed
by recognising that certain milestones of development in social skills,
communication, and flexibility of interests are not forthcoming (APA,
2013, passim). Using milestones to identify difficulties with develop-
ment at an early stage can be beneficial. Early identification is often
welcomed by parents of a child with autism spectrum disorder as it
begins to explain otherwise bewildering behaviour and responses, or
lack of responses, of their child.
Rights
Rights and their proliferation

Where rights are seen as inherent in individuals, there is the poten-
tial for them to multiply. If I can claim a few inherent rights, why not
many?
The Scottish Prison Officers Association is reported to have sought
legal advice on whether, under the European Commission on Human
Rights, its members’ ‘human rights’ had been breached because of having
to supervise prisoners ‘slopping out’ toilet contents (Cramb, 2004). In
England, a retired police officer is stated to be prepared to take to the
European Court of Human Rights a claim to cut down protected trees
in his garden that are blocking his television satellite signal because it
is a ‘basic human right to receive television signals and enjoy watching
television’ (Sapsted, 2004).
Some commentators worry that such proliferation is weakening

the power of the claim to central rights such as that to life, while not
increasing the force of the claim for the numerous other supposed rights
(Glendon, 1991). Invoking ‘rights’ begins to look like merely demanding
something by using a previously prestigious word. Furthermore, ‘ ... there
is very little agreement regarding which needs, goods, interests, or values
should be characterised as ‘rights’, or concerning what should be done
when ... various rights are in tension or collision with one another’ (Ibid.,
p. 16). Indeed, rights rhetoric displays ‘ ... a near silence concerning
responsibility, and a tendency to envision the rights-bearer as a lone
autonomous individual’ (p. 45).
Attempts to constrain rights

Some have tried to limit new rights. Alston (1984) suggested that
new international human rights be evaluated by the United Nations
General Assembly rather than being ‘conjured up’. A UN resolution
adopted in 1986 set out compliance criteria for international human
rights instruments. These included that they should ‘be of funda-
mental character and derive from the inherent dignity and worth of
the human person’. However, different ideas and practices about what
constitutes the value and worth of a person, limits the influence of
such statements.
Others have argued that where someone expresses a right, this implies
a correlative duty on someone else. If a citizen has a right to free speech,
then other citizens are placed under a passive duty not to interfere with
it. A right may impose an active duty on someone else as when property
rights allow a person to claim a debt of another implying the duty of
that person to repay it. For Benn and Peters (1959, p. 89) the correlation
between rights and duties is a logical relation, not a moral or legal one. A
rule that gives rise to a right does not as a separate entity impose a duty.
A right and a duty are different names for the same ‘normative relation’
with reference to the point of view from which it is seen.
Rights relating to disability and special education

A treatise adopted in 2006, The International Convention on the Rights of
Persons with Disabilities concerned the right to make decisions, marry,
have a family, work, and receive education. While many people might
like to marry or want to marry, does anyone, whether having a disability
or disorder or not, have a ‘right’ to marry? Surely in entering the state of
marriage, a person does not bear a right as a lone individual. Marriage
depends on one person wanting to marry the other, not on one of them
claiming a ‘right’. Many people might want to have a family, but does
anyone really have a ‘right’ to have children?
In special education it may be said a student has a ‘right’ to speech
and language therapy or some other provision. There is a ‘right’ to be
educated in an ordinary school, claimed by those supporting inclusion
as mainstreaming. There is the ‘right’ for deaf children to be educated in
a special school for those believing deaf people form a linguistic minority
whose form of communication should be encouraged.
But unless a sense of proportion returns to ‘rights as wants’ claims,
any suggestion that special students have rights are likely to be weak-
ened by being buried under numerous other claims, and by the power
of the term ‘rights’ being eroded to the point of ridicule.
Disorder
General understandings of ‘order’ and ‘disorder’

Order can refer to the disposition of objects or phenomena as with
numerical order and alphabetical order where rules dictate the disposi-
tion of letters or numbers. A group of soldiers forming a regular line for
inspection are instructed to ‘come to order’. There is sense of purpose
and of methodological arrangement. ‘Apple pie order’ indicates a very
harmonious state of order. If something is ‘in order’ it is satisfactory
and suitable for its purpose. An engine that is in order is in suitable
working condition. The order of service in a place of worship is an indi-
cation of the sequence that events are to follow. A religious order such
as the Society of Jesus conveys the sense of hierarchy and recognised
position.
In the term ‘disorder’ the ‘dis’ prefix conveys the negation or absence
of order. In general usage, disorder is a lack of order, a lack of regular
arrangement, derangement, upset, and confusion. Papers may be in
state of disorder if they lack understandable arrangement. During social
disturbance one may speak of ‘public disorder’. Relatedly and perhaps
with rather dated connotations, one may speak of a ‘disorderly’ group.
There is an offence under English law of being ‘drunk and disorderly’,
which perhaps requires no further explanation.
The concept of disorder in special education

The expression ‘disorder’ is widely used in special education from ‘anxiety
disorder’ and ‘depressive disorder’ to ‘autism spectrum disorder’ and
‘developmental coordination disorder’. Students entitled to special educa-
tion have a ‘disability or disorder’ which gets in the way of learning.
Where one speaks of disorder with regard to individuals, one is refer-

ring to disturbance in the regular or usual order of behaviour, mood,
or cognition. ‘Specific learning disorder’ conveys that learning is not
developing in a usual or regular way. Evidence of this will be slower
than typical progress, for example in reading or mathematics skills or
in written expression. With other disorders the nature of the disorder
is clear from the expression. Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder is
a condition in which the individual tends to be over active and lacking
attention to an extent that is disorderly in its impact on behaviour
and learning. ‘Anxiety disorder’ is a condition typified by anxiety that
makes the mood state of the individual disorderly. It is not necessarily
conveyed that anxiety (or depression or autism spectrum disorder) is
the disorder. It is more that anxiety is the characteristic that describes
the disorder. The anxiety is so excessive that it precipitates disorder.
In this case it makes sense to speak of someone experiencing anxiety
without any implication that is so severe that it is debilitating. The term
‘anxiety disorder’ implies a level of anxiety that is beyond what is usual,
exceeding a level with which the individual can cope.
In some uses order and disorder are direct opposites. The papers on
your desk are in a state of order or they are in a state of disorder. There
is public order or there is public disorder. However, when one refers
to individual human beings, one may refer to someone experiencing a
disorder. One would not speak of someone having an ‘order’ or expe-
riencing an ‘order’ in the same sense. (Very occasionally, a physician
might say after a physical examination of a patient, ‘Well, everything
seems to be in order’). The assumption is that the regular state of indi-
viduals does not usually merit comment. It is only when that state is
disturbed that it attracts attention.
Where a disorder is considered to require intervention, the implica-
tion is that there will be a return to a state of ‘order’, although this is not
often made explicit. More often, the intervention is aimed at allowing a
greater degree of order than is currently the case. In educating a student
with ADHD an educator may adapt provision so that the student is better
able to learn. The return towards a state of greater order is signalled
when learning takes place more effectively. Short sessions of teaching
may help with poor concentration, while opportunities to move around
a room regularly may allow the student when not doing so to sit still
long enough to complete a learning task.
There may not always be consensus in what constitutes ‘order’ and
‘disorder’ say, in behaviour. With ADHD this may suggest questioning
who determines whether activity is at such a high level that it constitutes
‘disorder’. Similarly, one may ask who decides what level of concentra-
tion or lack of concentration suggests disorder.
Need
General understandings of ‘need’

The word ‘need’ may imply a goal. An action may ‘need’ to be performed
to reach a goal, as when ‘needing’ to cross the street to use a bank. Or
a situation may require a course of action such as ‘needing’ to leave a
party early to catch the last train home. Similarly, one may ‘need’ some-
thing to be able to perform an action or achieve a certain outcome. Here,
to ‘need’ something implies a particular purpose. A conditional asser-
tion of need is implied so that one is saying, ‘I need X if I am to achieve
Y’. If the goal is serious, as needing air to survive, it is implied that there
is a justifiable obligation to provide for it.
‘Need’ in special education

In the UK, special education is provided where it is decided that a
student requires or ‘needs’ it because of a disability or disorder which is
inhibiting learning. To try to convey the sense of entitlement, the deci-
sion that a student is allowed special education is reflected back on the
student as a ‘need’. As a result, the term ‘special educational needs’ is
part of the legal definition of special education in England. In Australia,
the expression ‘additional needs’ may be used similarly.
Parents may say their child ‘needs’ extra tuition. In a publicly
funded school such education would be paid for from taxes contrib-
uted by others. To understand what is meant here by ‘need’, one may
seek out the unmentioned clause, ‘if he is to be able to gain a place
at the best university’. Once this is explicit, one may discuss whether
this is a worthwhile goal and, if so, whether others are obliged
through their taxes to help the student achieve it. Parents may
request special provision because their child has a special educational
‘need’, not specifying any goal. The child may have a disorder precip-
itating educational difficulties such that progress would be hampered
without special provision. This may broadly justify providing for the
supposed need.
But the blanket term ‘special educational need’ can mask the unspeci-
fied justification for the requested provision. It is usually clearer if
the type of disorder, the purported ‘need’, and the goal is specified. A
student with profound intellection disability may need a small steps
curriculum and assessment in order to make progress and have the
progress recognised. A goal-directed need is conditional in that the

‘need’ is a condition of achieving the specified goal, and achieving the
goal is conditional upon the need being provided for.
But ‘needs’ may be unconditional, as when one says that one needs
funds without specifying a reason or purpose. Parents may claim their
child ‘needs’ speech and language therapy, but not specify the goal,
or state it only very generally. They may say the child ‘needs’ speech
and language therapy in order to make better progress. But almost any
child given speech and language therapy would be expected to make
better progress because of intensive individual work with a specialist.
Therefore, to say the child ‘needs’ speech and language therapy must
suggest more than enhancing progress. In practice, the usual meaning is
that the student is behind peers in speech and language development,
and without therapy may fall further behind.
But unless such conditions are made explicit, the term ‘need’ may
mislead, especially regarding disorders that are difficult to identify and
assess. Therefore, unless there is agreement among interested parties
about what is meant by the various types of disability or disorder the
term ‘special need’ can be slippery. A ‘special educational need’ may
be claimed and certain provision requested because the child is said
to ‘need’ it without explaining why. Here, unconditional needs can be
mistaken for conditional goal-directed needs. Whereas in goal-directed
need, the goal, its justifiability, and whether others should pay for
it to be achieved can all be debated, unconditional need evades this
scrutiny.
Furthermore, the term ‘additional support needs’ in attempting to be
inclusive becomes evasive. It is as if there is something shameful about
disabilities and disorders and resultant ‘needs’ that requires unobtru-
sively smuggling these needs along with other ‘additional needs’.
Additional support needs
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Reflecting on the concept of additional
support needs’.
Watch the video which relates to ‘individual support needs’ and
communication.
What might the expression, ‘seeking to address your needs mean’?
Who is deciding the needs?
How would it be known they were ‘met’?
Therapy
Therapy broadly envisaged

The general meaning of ‘therapy’ is a form of treatment which is
intended to ease or cure a disorder. Being therapeutic is associated with
being healing, curative, or remedial. If a treatment or substance or proce-
dure is ‘therapeutic’, it is expected that it will tend to restore health and
well-being. The restoration may be to a previously better state of health,
well-being, or functioning that the individual experienced for example
before an accident or illness. Or it may be more of an attempt to bring
the individual to a state that is more typical of health, functioning, and
well-being in the general population, even if that state is not one that
the individual has previously experienced. In these respects therapy has
a normative sense. Similarly, having therapy for a psychological disorder
is meant to treat the disorder. If the therapy is for disabling levels of
anxiety, the anxiety is expected to lessen and become more manageable.
A therapy can be preventative in that it slows or stops the progress of a
disease or condition; palliative in that it eases pain without curing the
condition; or lenitive, if it eases discomfort and pain.
Prefixes to the word ‘therapy’ may indicate the nature of the approach.
Chemotherapy involves the use of chemicals that target particular cells
for example in the treatment of certain cancers. Or the prefix may
indicate the aspect of development of well-being that is under consid-
eration. In the US, ‘physical therapy’ refers to approaches including
exercises or guided movements aiming to restore or improve a person’s
physical mobility and strength. It is called ‘physiotherapy’ in the UK.
Psychotherapy concerns mental states of what used to be known as the
‘psyche’.
Criticisms of therapy
The general implication of therapy is that something is not right and
that it would be better if it were put right. This has been criticised by
some commentators who suggest that this amounts to not accepting
special students as they are and wanting to normalise everyone. These
reservations may be applied to broad therapeutic approaches such as
envisaged in speech language therapy or physiotherapy, as well as to
psychotherapy.
Such criticisms are sometimes linked with a general distaste for a
medical model which is claimed oppressive and sees only the weak-
nesses of individuals and not the strengths. This may lead to a distrust
of (or even a distaste for) medical professionals and their work.
Some criticisms relate particularly to psychotherapy, suggesting it can

be harmful rather than healing. The implication is that in locating a
problem within a person rather than in the wider social structure, mental
health workers become agents of social control. Accordingly, Masson
(1988) suggests therapy is an oppressive and abusive force maintaining
the political status quo. Heath (1992) takes the view that clinicians,
psychiatry, and psychotherapy generally, ‘perpetuate social oppression
by abuse of power’ by ‘individualizing problems and by putting the
emphasis on the individual to improve’ (Ibid., p. 3).
Therapy and special students

Therapy is part of provision for some special students. Types of therapy
include physical therapy such as that provided for a student with
cystic fibrosis that helps with breathing. Psychotherapy for example
cognitive-behavioural therapy may be provided for students with
depressive disorder or anxiety disorder. Speech and language therapy
may help the communication of students with speech impairments
and the therapist may support students having difficulty swallowing.
Occupational therapy helps develop and maximise functional skills for
example for students with severe to moderate intellectual disability or
developmental coordination disorder. Medication such as drugs that
inhibit epileptic seizures is also considered therapeutic.
The idea that therapists in general ought to leave well enough alone
and stop fixing individuals is difficult to justify. The opinion of a student
who has physical therapy to help with breathing for a condition such
as cystic fibrosis that can be life threatening might not be so dismissive.
Similarly, where a student with anxiety disorder or depressive disorder
clearly benefits from for example cognitive-behavioural therapy, it might
be worth listening to the individual.
Those holding these critical views may have had personal poor
experience of therapy or have heard reports of such experiences. If
such criticisms were made of particular instances of therapy, it could
be judged whether there was any abuse of power or coercion. Where
there was, these might be dealt with on an individual basis. What is
harder to justify is broadening bad experiences into a socially struc-
tured vision of oppression. This does not address individual instances
of abuse where they have taken place. It does not hold professionals
to account where they have acted improperly and risks demeaning
professionals who do act in the best interests of others. Such views
lack credibility with someone whose experience of therapy has been
positive.
Access
General meanings of ‘access’

Access in everyday communication is associated with availability, free
movement, entry, and perhaps opportunity. Access to a building suggests
easy entry and movement within it. Access to food and drink implies
being able to make use of a ready supply. The term may be linked with
notions of entitlement as in ‘right of access’ to a place or to the use of
materials. Being denied access conveys a sense of closure or prevention.
It might suggest a physical or some other type of barrier. If something
is accessible it is freely available and open. Something inaccessible is
remote, unreachable, and closed off.
Where something is accessible, the accessibility is sometimes the
beginning and the end of the matter. Assuming I have access to my bank
account (and that there is any money in it), I can spend funds on what
I want. There may be reasons why access does not equate with avail-
ability of funds such as that I find I have less money than anticipated.
But generally, it would be odd to say I have access to my bank account,
but that I cannot get my money. Such a statement would require further
explanation because the access implies that I have what I want.
‘Access’ in special education

The term ‘access’ may be used in the context of special education.
Students using wheelchairs should have access to areas of a school
building. For students with intellectual disability, educators speak of
access to learning. Special students who attend mainstream schools
should be assured access to the same curriculum as non-disabled peers.
If access can be assured it seems all will be well.
In special education, ‘access’ might have a parallel meaning to it;
general use when referring to physical access for students with physical
disabilities implies that something is accomplished. To have access to all
sections of a building enables free movement and demonstrates acces-
sibility. The ‘access’ refers to the building being accessible and the indi-
vidual having access to it and throughout it.
In education and special education, the term ‘access’ might also refer
to access to the school curriculum through particular classroom organi-
sation or the use of resources such as computers. In this context, the
term does not inevitably imply ‘mission accomplished’. I might have
access to a curriculum, but may not be able to take advantage of that
access. The curriculum activities are happening around me, but I cannot
participate in them. We might speak of a curriculum being accessible,
perhaps meaning that its content and its level is within the reach of a
student. But that student may not be able to learn any of the content
for various reasons.
Perhaps the resources are not in place to enable participation, for
example Braille reading materials. Perhaps pedagogy lacks the visual
structure that could help a student with autism spectrum disorder to take
advantage of the curriculum content. For a student having depressive
disorder or anxiety disorder that prevents concentration and participa-
tion in curriculum activities, suitable therapy may be unavailable effec-
tively closing off the curriculum. The classroom might not be organised
in such a way as to enable students with profound intellectual disability
to concentrate on tasks. In all these cases the curriculum might be said
to be accessible, but shortcomings in pedagogy, resources, therapy, and
organisation may effectively close off the learning opportunities.
This suggests that when speaking of a curriculum we use the term
‘accessible’ with care. The curriculum needs to be accessible in its
content, but also fully accessed if necessary through arrangements in
other aspects of provision.
In a broader sense, one has to take care when speaking of access to
learning. The learning may be accessible in that it should be possible
for a student to learn and make progress. But circumstances may make
learning inaccessible to a particular student for reasons already discussed
with regard to the curriculum. Access to learning is perhaps even more
slippery than access to the curriculum. It may be better to avoid speaking
of access to learning. A student is either learning or not learning. To
say someone has access to learning does not really tell us very much.
Evidence that the student is learning arises from having the evidence of
assessments of continuing progress and development.
Conclusion
The ordinary language perspective of examining traditional problems

of philosophy can be used in a more prosaic way to analyse and clarify
concepts in other areas including in special education. Carefully exam-
ining concepts may involve clarifying terms and exploring the range of
meanings of words to ensure that debates are more focused on issues
and not side-tracked by hidden terminological misunderstandings.
Such analysis involves the exploration of the range of meanings of
key concepts such as examining tensions between the different uses of
terms. The analysis of terms used in special education may help focus
debate on matters of substance. While not guaranteeing agreement, this
can help ensure that the differences of opinion are more apparent and
open to debate.
The concept of typical development does not necessarily imply that
individuals who do not reach developmental milestones in develop-
ment are any less valued; indeed, it can indicate the support neces-
sary to help the child develop as well as possible, suggesting valuing
rather than devaluing. ‘Rights’ may be proliferating and consequently
becoming weaker so that practical restraints and arguments that rights
reflect duties may be worth revisiting in order for rights claims to retain
credibility. ‘Disorder’ indicates more than just trivial differences in
development or behaviour, but there may be disagreement on what
constitutes ‘order’ and ‘disorder’ in behaviour associated with conduct,
over-activity, or concentration. Regarding needs and special needs,
confusion and unnecessary disagreement can arise where goal-directed
need and unconditional need are not differentiated. Views of therapy
range from it being seen as beneficial and life enhancing to it being
regarded as oppressive. Analysing the concept may separate out differ-
ence in the understanding of the concept from arguments about views
of power and professional authority. ‘Access’ can be useful in indicating
an opportunity to learn of which a student takes advantage. However, it
can be confusingly used where ‘access’ refers to an intended or offered
opportunity that an individual may in fact be unable to take.
Thinking points
● The extent to which analysis of terms can clarify discussion, allowing

dissent about issues to be distinguished from disagreement about
terminology.
● How terms such as ‘inclusion’, ‘fairness’, ‘barriers’, ‘needs’, ‘discrimi-
nation’, and ‘rights’ might be further clarified in discussions on
special education.
Key texts
Farrell, M. (2004b) Inclusion at the Crossroads: Concepts and Values in Special
Education London, David Fulton.
This book includes chapters on: ‘Defining SEN: Distinguishing Goal-Directed
Need and Unconditional Need’; ‘School Equal Opportunity Policies: Equality
and Discrimination’; and ‘Including Pupils with SEN: Rights and Duties’.
Farrell, M. (2004) Special Education: A Resources for Practitioners London, Sage.

Chapter 4 ‘Political judgements, inclusion and the future of special schools’
discusses ‘rights’ and ‘social justice’.
Farrell, M. (2010) Debating Special Education London, Routledge.
This book includes chapters on ‘Rights based criticisms and contested values’
(Chapter 2) and ‘The alternative of inclusion as mainstreaming’ (Chapter 11).
Further reading
Shakespeare, T. (2006) Disability Rights and Wrongs London, Routledge.
This book forthrightly rejects the ‘strong social model’ approach to disability. A
particularly penetrating chapter is chapter 6, ‘Disability rights and the future
of charity’.
9
Persuasive or Misleading Language
Introduction
In examining special education, awareness of persuasive language can

alert us to convincingness of arguments, for where manner comple-
ments the substance of writing it can enhance an argument; but style
concealing inadequacies or misrepresenting substance can mislead. This
chapter examines examples of persuasive and sometimes misleading
language in special education.
Metaphor and simile
Corbett (1996, passim) emphasises the importance of metaphor,

simile, and other imagery in examining special educational language.
Metaphors and similes may be used to persuade as when they are posi-
tive or prestigious. They can reveal the underlying communication to be
inadvertently at odds with the surface message.
Faecal imagery is popular. Oliver (1998) discusses researchers who
are not disabled making careers out of researching disabled people
and its potential exploitative nature. He asks whether ‘ ... disability
researchers are “shitting”’ disabled people when they write about expe-
riences that they have no access to, save through their own research
techniques’ (Ibid., p. 187). This image suggests researchers are feeding
on disabled people before excreting them as waste, the Anglo-Saxon
vocabulary conveying distaste. While the pungency of the metaphor
might convince some, it evades the question of whether anyone can
research or pass an opinion on anyone whose experiences they have
not shared. This would presumably preclude a researcher born with a
disability ever doing research about non-disabled people because the
140
Persuasive or Misleading Language 141
researcher would be writing about experiences ‘they have no access to,

save through their own research techniques’. Any such boundaries are
surely artificial.
Sexual imagery may be used. Oliver (1992) disagreed with the way two
researchers were debating ‘integration’ seeing their exchanges as indul-
gent and essentially semantic describing the dialogue as ‘intellectual
masturbation’ (Ibid.). Here, the analogy suggests two people enjoying
the excitement of an ultimately self-centred activity.
Sometimes disability is seen as side-lined by other explorations in
cultural studies into gender, race, and sexuality. As Mallet (2007) suggests,
these have often been theorised without reference to disability. In this
context, Olkin (2002) asks, ‘When will disabled people be allowed to
board the diversity train’ (Ibid.). This metaphor suggests a journey in
which others comfortably occupy passenger seats, while disabled people
languish at the station.
Corbett (1996) highlights the variety of personalities among disa-
bled and non-disabled people suggesting charities should not present
disabled people as ‘nice’ because it might restrict a more rounded view.
She states, ‘This attachment to niceness persists, particularly in the
charity business where disabled people are neatly packaged and sold to the
public’ (Ibid., p. 50, italic added). Being ‘neatly packaged’ suggests being
wrapped up and restricted; the ‘neatly’ indicating that nothing that is
not ‘nice’ should intrude.
Bogdan and Taylor (1982) maintain, ‘Mental retardation is, in fact, a
socio-political not a psychological construction. The myth, perpetuated
by a society which refuses to recognise the true nature of its needed
social reforms, has successfully camouflaged the politics of diagnosis
and incarceration’ (Ibid., p. 15, italics added). Here ‘mental retardation’
is seen not as a psychological (individual) phenomena, but a ‘camou-
flaged’ social one suggesting a stealthy military operation.
Danforth and Rhodes (1997) criticise a diagnostic practice in
which a parent and a school defined reading performance differ-
ently (mechanically or contextually), consequently disagreeing about
whether the child had a reading difficulty (Ibid., pp. 361–362). The
‘deconstructionist purpose’ of pointing out the opposing definitions
is to ‘throw a paradigmatic monkey wrench into the process of diag-
nosing a reading disorder’ (Ibid., pp. 361–362, italics added). The
metaphor overreaches itself, pointing to a disagreement between two
parties about how reading is understood, but grandiosely implying
that the whole meaning of reading assessment consequently grinds
to a halt.
Emotive language
Emotive language may intrude where communication appears initially

neutral. Someone wanting more special students educated in main-
stream may describe special schooling as ‘segregating’, evoking associa-
tions with apartheid in South Africa or segregation in the southern US.
A more neutral word might be ‘separation’, leaving aside any arguments
about whether special schools can offer a better education. Similarly, the
term ‘inclusion’ may be used to refer to educating special students in
mainstream classrooms. The implied opposite is ‘exclusion’ suggesting
negative connotations. Therefore, ‘inclusion’ may seem a positive
policy to pursue, apart from any arguments about the pros and cons of
mainstreaming.
The term, ‘mainstream’ might imply that regular school is better
for special students than alternatives such as home tuition or special
schooling. The implied opposite might be ‘tributary’ a less significant,
inferior experience of education. By contrast, a ‘special school’ might
be seen as a positive and valued school, while the implied opposite an
‘ordinary’ school would seem less desirable.
Corbett (1996) mentions some disabled people who disagree with
‘disability activists’. She explains, ‘In a society where hierarchies are
apparently impregnable, despite public scandals and displays of profes-
sional incompetence and establishment corruption there will be those who
seek to collude with their oppressors’ (Ibid., p. 75, italics added). It is hard
to recall that here Corbett is referring only to individuals who disagree
with a number of ‘activists’.
Goodley (2010), in referring to the high cost of special schooling,
might have posed key questions. If expenditure is justified, do special
school provide a better education than mainstream schools? Is there
any evidence that special schools are lining their pockets and, if so,
which special schools? In fact, Goodley (2010) hints at problems
without offering evidence. He states, ‘Special schools become “centres
of excellence” that cling as much as they can to the retention of their
special pupils. When it costs the government £100,000 a year to house
a child in a residential special school, it is perhaps unsurprising that
these schools are not keen to let go of their pupils’ (Ibid., p. 142, italics
added).
Notice the words ‘cling’ and not wanting to ‘let go’ suggesting that
students want to leave the special school, but cannot because the
school is preventing them. The special school is depicted as dependent
on the student. A residential special school does not educate the
student, but can only ‘house’ a child. In case anyone thought that a
special school could be a real centre of excellence with the residential
aspect complementing the schooling, the phrase is put in quotation
marks to indicate that this is inconceivable. The high cost of residential
special schooling is depicted as if the money went into the pockets of
the school governors. No attempt is made to examine what amount is
spent on educating each student. Note the juxtaposition of information
about the cost of residential special schooling (£100,000) that may be
correct, and speculation (special schools cling to students) that may or
may not be, without any supportive evidence. It looks as if Goodley can
only present innuendo and emotive language in the place of argument
or evidence.
Davis (1993) refers to the qualifications of professionals as follows,
‘These paper qualifications help them to get jobs and make careers out
of our needs’ (Ibid, p. 197, italics added). The qualifications are not real
and supported by experience, but only ‘paper’ ones. He later describes
physicians, medical professionals, social workers, and psychologists as
‘professional disability parasites’ (Ibid., p. 199, italics added). The word
‘parasite’ often refers to a plant which grows on another plant and sucks
the life out of it while thriving itself. This usage might convey some
of the bitterness which particular writers feel towards particular profes-
sionals. But the broader question is does it accurately convey the rela-
tionship of professionals to special students that is usually found? Some
professions ‘depend’ in one sense of the needs of others. A fire officer
depends on people having out of control fires so that they can be extin-
guished. But does this mean the officer is parasitic on those who might
need assistance?
Alison Silverwood (1994), in Disability Art Magazine (extracted in
Corbett, 1994, p. 29), tells of seeing a performer who was ‘the first
person to offer me an alternative terminology for psychiatric illness
by announcing she had mental distress’. Silverwood (1994) adds, ‘As
someone who in my late teens and early twenties was pumped full of
myriad psychiatric drugs, some of which have since been banned, it was
a term with which I could identify’ (italics added). The emotiveness
of the words ‘pumped full’ and ‘myriad’ is obvious. We are not told
what the drugs were that have since been banned, but the inference
is that they were dangerous and an indication of feckless medical
treatment.
Edwards (2006) quotes a deaf person who did not want to attend
mainstream school, but preferred a residential school for the deaf:
‘Falberg acknowledged and rejected oralist talk of restoring the deaf to
society. He knew this was what his hearing parents wanted for him,
but he also knew that throwing him into a classroom of hearing people
hardly restored him to anyone’s society’ (Ibid., p. 406, italics added).
The idea that what others might see as inclusion was just ‘throwing’ a
student into a mainstream school does not add anything to the argu-
ments about which venue is preferable, but simply conveys distaste for
mainstream schooling.
The impact of emotive language and innuendo can be unpicked
by substituting more neutral words so that the personal position of
the writer who chooses emotive language and their ability to present
evidence can be examined. One can then ask if the argument (if any is
presented) is convincing.
Democrats and McCarthy
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘Joseph McCarthy on democrats’.

Watch the video.
Note terms such as ‘complete prisoners’ and ‘Bureaucratic communistic
Frankenstein’.
What are the particular characteristics of such phrases that lead to audience
applause?
Slogans
Slogans are short, catchy expressions of belief or intent. Using very broad
terms can make communication opaque because different individuals
might assume the expression means different things. Regarding the
slogans ‘celebrating diversity’ or ‘celebrating difference’ (e.g. Corbett,
1996, p. 65), it is not usually indicated what form the celebration should
take. Perhaps the expression means to go further than to accept or
tolerate diversity, but to actively rejoice in it. Neither is it always speci-
fied what sort of diversity should be celebrated, but it may refer to the
diversity of individuals, racial, religious, or cultural.
In special education, the phrase is not used to suggest that a diversity
of views about mainstreaming and special schools would be welcomed.
The diversity to be celebrated is much more limited. The phrase tends
to be used as a counter to perceived unhelpful identification of special
students. Instead of classifying children as disabled and non-disabled, it
would be better if we celebrated diversity and just accepted that everyone
is different. But once the celebrating has been done, the slogan does not
indicate anything about how students might be educated. The question
of whether there are different aspects of school provision that are effec-
tive in educating different groups such as students with autism spectrum
disorder remains unanswered.
Safety slogans
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘safety slogans famous safety slogans’.
Watch the video.
How do these slogans work?What characterises them?
Terms not clearly defined
Where expressions are not clearly defined or explained they can mislead.
Consider the term ‘rights’. Gallagher (2001) claims that the moral basis
of inclusion as mainstreaming is one of ‘rights’. Wertheimer (1997)
thought that there was a ‘growing consensus throughout the world that
all children have the right to be educated together’ (italics added). Some
deaf adults argue that their children have a ‘right’ to learn a sign language
as their first language and be part of deaf culture (Hornby, Atkinson and
Howard, 1997, p. 3). The implication is that rights are somehow claimed
by an individual rather as someone picks new clothes. If this is the case,
then the suggestions for what particular right should prevail would be
seen simply as a list of preferences of certain groups. The agreement of
others would not be a part of the definition.
A different definition might regard rights as the reciprocal of other
people agreeing and themselves accepting the responsibility for what
the claimed right entails. If you claim a right of free speech, I accept the
responsibility not to interfere with your exercising that right. This is the
sort of definition proposed by Benn and Peters (1959). They maintain
that the correlation between rights and duties is not a moral or legal
relation, but a logical one. A rule that gives rise to a right does not as a
separate entity impose a duty. ‘Right’ and ‘duty’ are different names for
‘the same normative relation’ with reference to the point of view from
which it is seen (Ibid., p. 89). If this were presented as the understanding
of rights that was being discussed then the apparent selecting of new
rights in an ad hoc way would be more constrained and might look less
like a shopping list.
Assuming that naming something implies its existence
For most people, it is immediately obvious when thinking of a unicorn

or a fairy that having a name is no guarantee of a phenomena existing.
Yet, in special education, it might be assumed that naming a supposed
‘condition’ ensures that it exists, which is not the case. There is debate
over developmental coordination disorder; specific developmental
disorder of motor function (ICD-10, World Health Organisation, 2002,
2007); and developmental dyslexia. The differences of opinion concern
the extent to which these conditions are a unitary syndrome in rela-
tion to their symptoms, aetiology, treatment response, and outcome
(Cantell, Kooistra, and Larkin, 2001).
Category boundaries are debated where different disabilities and
disorders co-occur. About half of clinic-referred children with ADHD
also have oppositional defiant disorder or conduct disorder (APA, 2013).
This may reflect conceptual overlap or possible underlying factors that
predispose a child to several disorders, ultimately suggesting another
category. Future genetic research, brain imaging, and neuroscience may
reshape some contemporary categories.
Despite such difficulties, the validity and reliability of categories can
be tested leading to clearer and more robust ones. For classification to
be useful, terminology has to be as clear as possible. The relationship
between constructs and forms of assessment, and between assessment
and interventions are important (Larkin and Cermac, 2002, p.90).
Even with current categories, it is possible to identify useful practical
implications for provision and prognosis for special children (Fletcher
et al., 1999).
If naming does not ensure clear cut disabilities and disorders,
neither does a description ensure successful provision. Calling a
practice ‘facilitated communication’ does not guarantee that the prac-
tice does in fact facilitate communication. Hornby and colleagues
(1997, pp. 157–166) examine claims for this intervention in a chapter,
‘Facilitated communication – Fact or fantasy?’ The approach was said
to help non-verbal individuals to communicate using a keyboard or by
pointing to alphabetic letters. It was used with students with physical
impairment, intellectual disability, and autism spectrum disorder. A
facilitator guided the students arm, hand, or finger to press keys or point
to letters. After reviewing the evidence, Hornby and colleagues conclude
that, ‘there is no reliable support for FC’ and that furthermore ‘there is a
large amount of evidence indicating that the source of the communica-
tions produced is the facilitators themselves’ (Ibid., p. 165).
Euphemism and ‘correct’ terminology
Search the internet for ‘correct terminology Open University’ and review the
text.
Note: you are told to use ‘John has a mobility impairment’ not ‘John is mobility
impaired’. You are to use ‘person with a mobility impairment’ not ‘crippled’;
‘accessible toilet’ not ‘disabled toilet’; ‘person with mental health difficulties’
not ‘mentally ill’; ‘person of restricted growth’ not ‘midget’; ‘access require-
ments’ not ‘special needs’, and so on.
What does the site give as the justification for these correct terms?
To what extent do you agree or disagree?
Search the internet under ‘videos’ for ‘George Carlin euphemisms and polit-
ical correctness’.
Watch the video, noting the references to the ‘physically challenged’ and
similar.
What characterises the examples of euphemism and political correctness
given in the video?
What do you think of the statement referring to disabled people that ‘These
poor people have been bull-shitted by the system to think that if you change
the name of the condition somehow you change the condition’?
Euphemism and political correctness
A euphemism is an indirect or evasive word or phrase for something

that is usually spoken about more directly. Generally speaking, it is not
a more accurate term that reveals words that are usually used as harsh;
it is a distortion of direct communication. Euphemism may be used for
a subject the user finds uncomfortable or embarrassing. ‘Death’ morphs
into ‘passing away’ and ‘telling lies’ changes into ‘being economical
with the truth’.
Euphemism sometimes overlaps with language that is considered by
some to be politically correct.
In Orwell’s novel 1984, politically correct ‘new speak’ was meant to
replace ‘old speak’. Once this had been managed, a heretical thought
should be ‘literally unthinkable, at least so far as thought is dependent
on words’ (Ibid.). Politically correct language may refer to behaviour
or language which to an excessive degree attempts to avoid offense to
certain groups. The contexts relate to gender, race, culture, religions,
age, sexual orientation, ability, and physical appearance. Implicit is
recognition of social groups that might be in a minority or that might
consider themselves oppressed so that in the list just given, the politi-
cally correct language might be preferred by women, racial and cultural
minorities, minority religions in a culture, homosexuals, disabled indi-
viduals, and people who are overweight or conventionally physically
unattractive. Supporters of politically correct language tend to see it as
indicating sensitivity to others and recognising a term that is preferred
by the person to who it applies. Dissenters may see it as evasive and
silly; resenting the implication that someone else is telling them what
to say.
Special students may be described as ‘exceptional students’. Exceptional
in general usage has two main meanings: the unusual/untypical or the
unusually outstanding. The special student is ‘exceptional’ in the sense
of being unusual by being in a minority statistically. In the US, ‘excep-
tional’ is also used to refer to students who are gifted and talented, and
are also statistically few. Saying both are ‘exceptional’ students is impre-
cise because one has to ask ‘exceptional in what way?’ To this extent the
term ‘exceptional child’ is euphemistic in that it evades the particular
exceptionality until further clarification is sought.
The term, ‘special student’ that I have tended to use in the present
book can also be seen euphemistic. ‘Special’ may be taken to refer to
valued and cherished. In the context of special education, a special
student is one with a disability or disorder that is considered to require
special provision in terms of curriculum, pedagogy, resources, organisa-
tion, or therapy. This is not to suggest that a special student or any other
student for that matter is not cherished, but this is not the particular
meaning intended by the term ‘special student’.
Furthermore, when types of disability or disorder are identified more
clearly, euphemism can still arise. Singer (1999), writing of autism spec-
trum disorder refers to the ‘neurologically different’ (Ibid., p. 67). One
has to ask ‘in what way neurologically different and with what conse-
quences?’ in order to be clear what is being said. In a similar vein, Couser
([1997]/2010) seems sometimes to be unable to bring himself to refer to
physical disability, but calls on terms such as ‘somatic variation’, ‘anom-
alous bodies’, ‘deviations from bodily norms’, ‘somatic anomalies’ and
‘extra-ordinary bodies’ (Ibid., pp. 532–533).
Shapiro (1993) states, ‘Virtually no disabled person uses these cute
phrases. Concoctions like “the vertically challenged” are silly and
scoffed at. The “differently abled”, the “handi-capable”, the “physi-
cally and mentally challenged” are almost universally dismissed as too
gimmicky and too inclusive’ (Ibid., p. 33). Similarly, Linton (2010) states,
‘Terms such as physically challenged, the able/disabled, handicapable,
and special people/children surface at different times and places. They

are rarely used by disabled activists and scholars (except with palpable
irony)’ (Ibid., p. 226). Linton adds ‘The term able/disabled and handica-
pable seem to have had a short shelf life. They are used, it seems, to refute
common stereotypes of incompetence. They are, though, defensive and
reactive terms rather than terms to advance the new agenda’ (Ibid.).
Linton’s dislike of ‘special’ seems to be because of a distrust of profes-
sional motives. She says, ‘A number of professions are built around the
word special. A huge infrastructure rests on the idea that special children
and special education are valid and useful structuring ideas’ (Ibid.).
Yet, Goodley (2010) still remarks that ‘survivors of mental health
hospitals and services (hitherto the ‘mentally ill’) demonstrated against
psychiatric labelling’ (Ibid., p. 3). In the same way, Corbett (1996) speaks
of ‘survivors of the mental health system’ (Ibid., p. 99). Here the euphe-
mism is used to shift any kind of link between the person with mental
illness and the illness itself. The individual has simply had the misfor-
tune of being admitted to a mental hospital or having to experience
mental health services. That these are determined to harm the indi-
vidual is implied in the word ‘survive’.
Linking disliked views or practices with negative

associations
If I dislike a particular practice I can link it with something that most

people would view negatively. The negative connotation of Nazis has
been paired with special schooling to the point of tedium. Jupp (1992)
asserts, ‘When we come to segregating those who have special needs,
we should not flinch from asking ourselves who it is we are attempting
to protect’. We are reminded that ‘Adolf Hitler separated the Jews, those
who had a disability and homosexuals from other Germans, in order
to protect the master race from ‘impurities’. Jupp (1992) dislikes the
idea of special schooling, and Adolf Hitler and Nazis are compared with
presumably the parents of children who send their children to special
schools, or perhaps the parents of non-disabled students who Jupp
supposes want their child protected. Jupp also brings in the apartheid
regime of South Africa, adding, ‘South Africa segregated its blacks to
protect its whites’ (Ibid.). There is no argument about why a special
school might be a poorer choice for a student than a mainstream
school. There is just a linking of two types of separation, one which
most people would abhor and the other that Jupp (1992) wants them
to see as equivalent.
Nazis are also introduced to support the views of Richardson (1999)

who dislikes intelligence testing. The British and American founders
of the intelligence testing movement states Richardson were ‘mostly
strong hereditarians and eugenists’ who had been backed by the Pioneer
Fund, ‘many of whose members have held explicitly racist, eugenicist
and Pro-Nazi views’ (Ibid., p.21). In Britain the assumptions underpin-
ning views of intelligence influenced the testing of children at the age of
11 years and their subsequent education in secondary modern, technical,
or grammar schools. In other places, ‘especially in Nazi Germany – essen-
tially the same assumptions were affecting lives in a more fundamental
way’ (Ibid., p. 35). Here the author equates testing pupils in relation to
school choice and the mass extermination of millions of people in Nazi
Germany.
Corbett (1996) links the terminology of physicians in the past to Nazi
murders. ‘Thus doctors were able to apply a detached judgement to the
needs of ‘morons’ and ‘idiots’ if their intellectual status rendered them
less than human. This level of detachment was taken to its ultimate
extreme in the Nazi murders of people who were different racially, intel-
lectually, physically, and sexually’ (Ibid., p. 5). The link here is with the
supposed ‘detachment’ of physicians assessing intelligence and killing
off minorities.
Reference may be made to the Holocaust to support distrust of profes-
sional ‘control’. Goodley (2010) says, ‘We know that over the nineteenth
and twentieth centuries, disabled people’s experiences of institutions,
eugenics, and the Holocaust galvanised many to organise collectively
against the oppressive regimes of medicine, science, and professional
control’ (Ibid., p. 2).
Edwards (2006), quoting others, speaks of reactions to the use of coch-
lear implants for deaf individuals. He states, ‘Deaf radical M. J. Bienvenu
compared implant surgeons to Nazis. Deaf writer Ben Bahan made a
link between deaf and hearing histories, declaring, ‘Bell and Hitler both
wanted to wipe out what they considered “defective”’ (Ibid., p. 411).
(The reference to ‘Bell’ in the above quote is to Alexander Graham Bell
the inventor of the telephone who regarded deafness as a handicap and
wanted to get rid of it).
The points just made are against those who prefer special schools to
mainstream schools, psychologists and others who consider intelligence
testing useful, physicians who used terms such as ‘idiot’ in the nine-
teenth century when it was a neutral term, and parents and physicians
who think cochlear implants are beneficial.
The Nazis, whom these people are compared with, killed millions
of Jews in the Second World War. Over a million Jewish children were
murdered. Concentration camps were established where inmates were
forced into slave labour until they died of exhaustion or disease. In
Eastern Europe occupied by Germany, special units murdered Jews
and dissidents in mass shootings. After being confined to ghettos, Jews
were transported to extermination camps where most were killed in gas
chambers. In Treblinka concentration camp alone, between 1942 and
1943, over 850,000 Jews were exterminated.
In Auschwitz, it is estimated that 1.3 million people died, 90%
of them Jewish. Those who were not killed in the gas chambers
died of starvation, infectious diseases, forced labour, and medical
experiments.
Once the parallel is made explicit, the absence of argument and the
vacuousness of the comparisons can be recognised.
Words whose implications are not made clear
‘Barriers’ to learning can imply a predominantly social view of disabili-

ties. ‘Barriers’ might convey an obstruction that has been placed in the
student’s way that should be eliminated as when a disabled student
experiences physical barriers to moving freely round a school building.
Where such barriers can be removed, access to the building is improved.
Barriers to learning might exist in the form of negative teacher atti-
tudes. Where these attitudes are changed, it is expected the barriers will
be reduced. Sometimes the word ‘barriers’ is used when what is being
discussed is difficulties with learning brought about (caused or created)
by disabilities or disorders.
In National Curriculum documents in England (Qualifications and
Curriculum Authority/Department for Education and Employment,
1999a, 1999b), a principle of inclusion is overcoming potential barriers
to learning and assessment for individuals and groups of pupils, one
such group being students with special educational needs. It is stated
that ‘A minority of pupils will have particular learning and assessment
requirements which ... if not addressed, could create barriers to learning’
(Ibid., 1999a, 33, italics added). These learning requirements ‘are likely
to arise as a consequence of a pupil having special educational needs or
disability’ (Ibid.). This quotation concerns the ‘requirements’ of learning
and assessment that need to be addressed so that they do not ‘create’
barriers to learning.
Referring to addressing learning and assessment requirements as

removing barriers does not invariably add anything to the understanding
of what is being done, namely ensuring suitable provision. One might
ask ‘What are the barriers exactly and who put them there?’
Using prestigious words to support views
Prestigious words may be used to try to enhance the value of an argu-

ment, statement, or situation. Wertheimer (1997) writes ‘The rights
enshrined in the United Nations Convention are applicable to all chil-
dren without discrimination including the right to education on the
basis of equal opportunity’ (Ibid, italics added). In similar terms, Goodley
(2010) maintains that ‘Inclusive education has become internationally
enshrined in documents such as UNESCO’s (1990) World Declaration on
Education for All, UNESCO’s Salamanca Statement and Framework for Action
on Special Educational Needs, and the United Nations (2007) Convention on
the Rights of Persons with Disabilities’ (Goodley, 2010, p. 142, bold added).
The word ‘enshrined’ conveys being deeply embedded with religious or
sacred connotations. Here the supposed rights are placed on a sacred
pedestal so that anyone thinking of questioning them could be seen as
sacrilegious. If inclusion is ‘enshrined’, who could argue with it?
To the extent that medicine has prestige, the use of medical sounding
terms for what are essentially non-medical matters is worth exami-
nation. Having a severe and complex difficulty with learning to read
creates difficulties of all kinds, but it would be an odd interpretation to
say it was an illness or a disease or some kind of health impairment. It
is therefore important to recognise that when one speaks of a ‘reading
impairment’ for such a difficulty, one is using the term, ‘impairment’
in the sense of ‘problem’ rather than equating the term with illness or
disease. This makes it all the more difficult to understand why the Greek
medical sounding term ‘dyslexia’ is sometimes used to refer to such a
difficulty. This might suggest for some commentators a ‘medical model’
in which the difficulty is seen as residing solely within the individual
and taking insufficient account of social and other factors.
Similar concerns arise with expressions such as: ‘dyscalculia’ for a
severe difficulty with learning and using mathematics; ‘dysgraphia’ for
excessive difficulties with the process of writing; and ‘dyspraxia’ for
a severe problem with coordination. Even more medical sounding is
references to students with such difficulties as ‘dyslexic’, ‘dyscalculic’,
‘dysgraphic’, and ‘dyspraxic’. Where such terms are used, the apparent
association with medicine may suggest that the identification of the
condition is unchallenged and that any provision is obvious when this

may not be so.
Selective quoting
Quotations may be accurate in so far as they go, but may be selected

to give quite a wrong impression of the source. Inclusion is sometimes
referenced in this way when linked to supposed rights. Authors want
to convey the impression that various documents, often international
agreements, fully endorse inclusion as mainstreaming.
Goodley (2010) is typical of many commentators in stating, ‘Inclusive
education has become internationally enshrined in documents such
as UNESCO’s (1990) World Declaration on Education for All, UNESCO’s
Salamanca Statement and Framework for Action on Special Educational
Needs, and the United Nations (2007) Convention on the Rights of Persons
with Disabilities’ (Ibid., p. 142).
Yet, this is selective and incorrect. It suggests that commentators
who repeat these views have either not read the relevant documents
(in which case they should not try to say what is in them) or they
have read them and are not fairly reporting what they say. Consider
the Salamanca Statement (United Nations Educational, Scientific and
Cultural Organisation, 1994). It is often quoted as giving unequivocal
support for inclusive education (mainstreaming). Section 3 paragraph 2
is rarely mentioned by commentators quoting the Statement. This may
be because it qualifies the enrolment of children into regular schools by
stating that this is to be done only if there are no compelling reasons
to act otherwise. The Statement says, ‘We call upon all governments
and urge them to ... adopt as a matter of law or policy the principle of
inclusive education, enrolling all children in regular schools, unless there
are compelling reasons for doing otherwise’ (United Nations Educational,
Scientific and Cultural Organisation, 1994, 44, italics added). Signatories
to the statement are therefore at perfect liberty (as they will have all
understood) to set out compelling reasons not to comply. These include
practicability, cost, and the incompatibility of inclusion with the educa-
tional needs of all children.
A UNESCO Survey on Special Needs Educational Law (1996) endorses the
important role of special schools. But it is rarely quoted by supporters of
mainstreaming because it does not sit well with the gloss of movement
towards inclusion. The Report recognises that the principle of school-
based integration acknowledges that some students have such disabili-
ties and disorders necessitating education in a special school. Most
counties reviewed in the report express similar provisos to educate some

students in special schools. In Spain, education in a special school is
only authorised if the pupil’s needs are not met in a mainstream school.
In New Brunswick, Canada, ‘exceptional pupils’ must be placed in the
same classroom as ‘non-exceptional’ pupils so long as this is not detri-
mental to the needs of the child.
Presenting unsubstantiated views as fact
Unsubstantiated views may sometimes be presented as if they are uncon-

tested fact. In England, a consultative government paper (‘Green Paper’)
was published in 1997 by the then New Labour government. The docu-
ment was titled, Excellence for All Children: Meeting Special Educational
Needs (Department for Education and Employment, 1997). It states
that there are ‘strong educational as well as social and moral grounds
for educating children with SEN with their peers’ (Ibid., p. 47). (In this
context SEN refers to ‘special educational needs’, which in England
concern disabilities and disorders, and ‘peers’ are students not identified
as having a disability or disorder). Having said there are educational,
social, and moral grounds for mainstreaming however, the Green Paper
does not say what these might be. The statement is presented as an
accepted fact.
Of course it may be that the views expressed can be very well substan-
tiated, but it is well to notice when views are expressed that are not
supported. The reader can then at least consider whether they have any
merit. Imagining the addition of ‘in my opinion’ before such statements
can be a useful corrective.
Conclusion
Examples of persuasive language that can also mislead are metaphor and
simile, emotive language, euphemism, slogan, analogy, and terms not
clearly defined. Other instances are assuming that naming implies exist-
ence, linking disliked views or practices with negative associations, and
words whose implications are not made clear. Using prestigious words to
support views, selective quoting, and presenting unsubstantiated views
as fact are further examples.
Examining uses of persuasive and sometimes misleading language
in relation to special education can help one become more aware of
opaque communication. A rule of thumb might be that the greater the
recourse to language effects, the greater the likelihood of any arguments
presented being weak. Also, one person’s deceptive language tricks are
another person’s vivid expression.
Concluding thinking points
Readers may wish to:
● Examine a school or local authority policy on special education for

features such as those examined in the chapter seeking to establish
the extent of its clarity.
● Select a book chapter or an article in favour of mainstreaming and
one opposing it and examine each for persuasive and misleading
language.
Key text
Goodley, D. (2010) Disability Studies: An Interdisciplinary Introduction London, Sage
(Discourse, critical disability studies).
This book vividly presents some of the concerns of disability theory.
Davis, L. J. (Ed.) (2010) (3rd Edition) The Disability Reader London, Routledge.
A chapter by Linton ‘Reassigning Meaning’ examines the use of words and
discusses whether meaning can be ‘reassigned’.
Conclusion
Here, I compare historical and contemporary terminology and suggest

implications for future understandings of language. Social construc-
tion and labelling theory are brought together as interpretative views.
I remind readers that disability memoirs and the voices of special
students reveal a complex range of views. Discourse and deconstruc-
tion are linked as postmodern perspectives. Both analysing concepts;
and avoiding misleading language are seen as seeking greater clarity
to special education. Key points arising in the book are summarized. I
examine the power of language, but also its limitations as an agent of
change. Finally, an optimistic future for special education and special
students is envisaged.
Then and now: Historical and contemporary terminology
Comparing and contrasting historical and current language of special

education can be informative. Historical changes to language indicate
social, cultural and attitudinal shifts, and improvements in knowledge
which they reflect. However, historical trends suggest that language
cannot be commandeered and changed to suit particular groups. Current
special education language provides a snapshot of the contemporary
field with a structure that includes legal, procedural, and definitional
frameworks that can make it appear daunting. This language can inhibit
joint understandings of special educational identification and provision
for example between parents and professionals, and between different
professionals, unless efforts are made to ensure clear communication.
Putting together insights gleaned from examining historical and
current language suggests future possibilities. Firstly, one might recog-
nise the futility of laundering supposedly negative terms and trying to
156
Conclusion 157
prescribe language. Then attention could be turned to engaging with the

negative views sometimes expressed about special students, and special
provision including special schooling. This might involve looking at the
social, attitudinal, and other reasons for any negativity. Engaging with
other people’s fears, hopes, conceptions, and misconceptions might be
better than trying to tell them what they should think and say. Perhaps
then more progress could be made in improving the education and life
chances of special students.
Interpretative views: Social construction and

labelling theory
Social construction and labelling theory are closely related in that they
both emerge from an interpretative approach. Social constructivism can
remind one that perceptions and meanings of aspects of special educa-
tion may be seen and valued differently by different participants. It can
suggest implications for special provision. At its most helpful this can
enable school staff to take better account of students’ perceptions so
that the student is more likely to be involved and motivated by the
provision. Labelling theory might shed light on conduct disorder. With
regard to other disorders, it can highlight the risk of lowering of expecta-
tions. Contesting labels can foreground questions about whether certain
conditions are over-identified, and raise awareness of unnecessary
medical labelling. Considering labelling in a broader sense can initiate
discussion about the negative and positive labelling of special education
and special schooling including taking account of the views of parents
and special students.
However, in an interpretative world, as envisaged by these approaches,
the questions of whose social construction and whose labels are preferred
are fraught with difficulty. Criticising special education as being socially
constructed and purveying negative labels is fine as long as you do not
mind similar criticism. When someone else suggests that your own posi-
tion is equally socially constructed and deals in negative labelling itself
there is an impasse. Overcoming this seems to be beyond interpreta-
tive perspectives, which is why commentators have volunteered other
perspectives such as pragmatism to help out.
Disability memoirs and student voice
Couser’s work has brought together many disability memoirs, persua-

sively analysing their origins.
But his view of disability purely in terms of social and cultural oppres-
sion diminishes the role of the interaction of individual and social
perspectives and the contribution of insights from a wide range of other
philosophical positions. This risks marginalising the views and experi-
ences of disabled authors holding more diverse opinions.
Student’s views are increasingly being taken into account in main-
stream and special schools. Listening to the wide range of student voice
reveals a wide range of views including ones that value special education
and special schooling.
Postmodern perspectives: Discourse and deconstruction
Foucault’s view of the historical situatedness of ways of thinking and

perceiving suggests the contingent nature of present day perceptions
and practices, and the possibility they can be changed. However, the
emergence and development of ‘epistémès’ remains mysterious, while
the ubiquitous nature of power-knowledge matrices prohibits an egali-
tarian utopia. Attempts to interpret disability and special education
through Foucault’s perspectives are similarly compromised. Claims that
struggling to win words or that using metaphors will change social,
cultural, and attitudinal factors or create new knowledge seem over
optimistic. Analyses of impairment as separate from disability, chal-
lenges the validity of the social model, but in shifting the suspicion of
hidden and systemic malign power from disability to impairment is no
more convincing. Some research involving discourse might encourage
the promotion of student voice, while other studies suggest how special
students might negotiate relationships and identity in various social
exchanges.
Deconstruction as developed by Derrida allows us to question the
stability of meaning in a mundane way, but does not translate directly
into ‘deconstructing’ real situations as some commentators believe.
Nevertheless, deconstruction might help round out a fuller meaning of
binary opposites and how they can operate. More convincingly, as a
method of very close analysis of substantial texts such as special educa-
tion guidance, deconstruction can reveal unrecognised anomalies. The
implied outcome of such postmodern perspectives for some people is
to somehow liberate special students from the prison of present day
epistémès, power-knowledge complexes, and binary oppositions. This
seems over ambitious, even misguided. Discursive essentialism and
deconstructive power drunkenness are only two symptoms of this
emancipatory illusion.
Conclusion 159
Seeking clarity and avoiding obfuscation:

Concept analysis and persuasive language
Analysing concepts is about examining how people use language in real

life and what the implications are for shared understanding and agreed
meaning. In special education it can lead to greater clarity and under-
standing. Examining concepts that are used routinely and that have not
perhaps been carefully scrutinised can be especially revealing. Analysing
language does not dissolve contention, but can help ensure that any
disagreement is about issues and not about some confusion concealed
by misunderstood language.
A fuller awareness of persuasive and potentially misleading language
can be equally useful. It can alert one to the possibility such language
may be masking weak evidence and poor arguments used by oneself or
by others. If we recognise the use of persuasive language to potentially
mislead, we are able to strip away that language and look at the argu-
ments and issues. Both of these approaches reveal issues so that these
are debated. They both look at day-to-day communication and seek to
clarify and refine it.
Some key points
Any review of the language used in special education is on-going and

forms part of the context of developments in special education. The
present review suggests various points some of which are outlined
below.
● Historically, social and cultural shifts, and changes in knowledge

and attitudes tend to lead to changes in language rather than vice
versa. Trying to change attitudes and social and cultural trends
by changing official language tends to be ineffective. Attempts by
particular interest groups to take charge of language in the absence
of changed social and cultural settings tend to be futile. Tackling
lack of knowledge and negative attitudes towards special educa-
tion is likely to be more effective than telling people what to say.
(Chapter 1).
● Current special educational language such as definitions and classi-
fication reflects the positivist and scientific aspirations of the subject
and the legal framework. Avoiding jargon where possible can help
establish clear communication between students, parents, and profes-
sionals. (Chapter 2).
● Social constructionist views and approaches can help ensure provi-

sion takes better account of students’ perceptions so that they may be
better motivated. (Chapter 3).
● Labelling theory can raise awareness of potential constraining effects
of labelling on identity and life chances where conduct disorder over-
laps with criminality. Awareness of the potential impact of negative
labelling of students helps teachers avoid self-fulfilling low expecta-
tions. Negative labelling of special education and special schooling
can be challenged to ensure that any debate values evidence over
name calling. Some parents and students find special education label-
ling positive and helpful. Unconsidered use of medical labels can
suggest that a student has an illness rather than a difficulty learning
something. (Chapter 4).
● Disability memoirs can open up new views of disability so long as
they are not filtered solely through perspectives of disability as social
and cultural oppression or any other single view for that matter.
Similarly, the voices of special students reveal a complex range of
views showing that special education and special schooling are highly
valued by some. (Chapter 5).
● Deconstruction may give rise to questioning the stability of meaning,
but does not translate directly into ‘deconstructing’ real situations.
Attempts to deconstruct substantial texts to reveal hidden inconsist-
encies are more credible than trying to make binary pairs look as
though they are not as opposite as people think. (Chapter 6).
● The idea that through discourse ways of thinking and perceiving
may be historically situated, and might alert people to their supposed
contingent nature in the present day and the possibility they can
be changed. However, how to alter ‘epistémès’ and evade ubiquitous
power-knowledge networks is unclear. Any suggestion that power
can be dissolved into some kind of egalitarian Utopia is far-fetched.
Reflections on the working of discourse and research analysing
discourse can lead to a consideration of whether sufficient encour-
agement is given to student voice, and how identities and relation-
ships might be negotiated. (Chapter 7).
● Analysing concepts associated with special education can lead to
greater clarity and can help ensure that the disagreement is about
issues and not about some confusion concealed by language itself.
(Chapter 8).
● Looking beneath persuasive and potentially misleading language can
allow one to recognise any underlying weak evidence and poor argu-
ments and challenge them. (Chapter 9).
Conclusion 161
The power and limitations of language
The power of language

Language certainly has power. The thrust of this book has been that
language is important and justifies careful examination. It can influ-
ence perceptions and can reveal attitudes and beliefs that the speaker
or writer themselves may not be fully aware. Language can reflect
changes in attitudes, economic situations, and social trends, and
can be a subtle early indicator of small shifts in the values of society.
Sometimes the power of words can contribute to shaping values and
attitudes given complementary underlying currents of social and other
change. At a mundane but important level, caring about language
supports clear and honest communication between students, parents,
and professionals.
If someone wanted to influence special education, the idea that one
should start by trying to change language so that attitudes and behav-
iour will change in its wake seems over optimistic and unjustified. A
more powerful approach is the analysis of the concepts used by a range
of contributors to special education and a clear examination of argu-
ments (and lack of arguments) for various positions. This can help to
clarify views and understanding. Recognising euphemism, watching
out for slogans being used to replace considered thought, and being
aware of poor evidence for certain views would be a step in the right
direction.
The limitations of language

While language is undoubtedly important, its role and impact can
be over-estimated and over-stated. To believe that language can be
somehow be seized hold of and made to do and mean what a particular
group wants is a common mistaken theme of many writers in disability
and special education. If it were possible for language to exert such
power, many of the world’s problems would be solved by lexicographers.
They would have gone to apartheid South Africa, asked Afrikaners to
stop using words like ‘Kaffir’ and phrases like ‘Play the white man’ and
substituted these for benign expressions like ‘people of colour’ and the
apartheid regime would have crumbled. Dictionary makers would have
descended upon countries such as Sudan, Saudi Arabia, and Iran where
homosexuality can bring a death sentence or more liberal states like
Pakistan, Burma, or Tanzania where it only attracts life imprisonment
and explain they should use words like ‘gay’ and these nations would
rethink and reform their penal systems.
Language is not a central self-standing source of power and control or a

generator of social and cultural change. Attempts to show that discourse
harbours hidden sources of vindictive power aligned with more mate-
rial oppression are unconvincing. The relationship of language to social
and cultural change is more subtle and the influence of language is
less powerful. Much more likely candidates for driving change might
be wealth, political influence, or military strength. A fat bank account
and friends in government are likely to be better levers for change
than attempts to reconstitute objects and subjects or analysing binary
opposites.
The idea that anyone can take words out of common currency and of
themselves make them mean something different is to misunderstand
how language operates and develops. To go further and suggest that
where words change, in their wake attitudes and behaviour alter seems
naïve and unsupportable.
An optimistic future for special education
Language is important and reflects historical and current social changes.

But changes in language do not change the world. An illustration of
this is in the increasingly strong development of special education
including special schooling. There have been decades of debate in some
countries about inclusion as mainstreaming. Efforts have been made to
eradicate special education by deconstructing binary opposites, showing
the supposed socially contingent nature of disability, or maintaining
that without the negative effects of labelling there would be less marked
differences between individuals.
All this has had no effect on the way that special education and
special schooling is valued. This seems to be because real students and
real parents in what seems to them to be the real world thrive with
the support of special education, and millions enjoy the benefits of first
rate special schooling. Language may be powerful, but so is the wish for
a good education. For millions of individuals worldwide, that means
special education.
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Index
ability/disability dichotomy, 98–9 Bleuler, E., 14

able-bodied, 98, 102, 105 blind, 12
ableism, 1 Blumer, H., 47
access, 136–7 body, materiality of the, 112–13
acronyms, 28–9, 39 Bogdan, R., 49–50, 141
adapted equipment, 4 Brantlinger, E. A., 65
additional support needs, 133 Broca, P. P., 16
adolescence, 127 Broca’s aphasia, 16
agency, 44, 49
Allan, J., 117–18, 122 category boundaries, 146
Alston, P., 129 Cavanaugh, M., 126
American Psychiatric Association childhood, 127
(APA), 10 childhood schizophrenia, 14
anxiety disorders, 48, 131 children, as ‘other’, 119–21
Armstrong, D., 50–1 classroom design, 4
Arrowsmith, J., 13 cochlear implants, 19
Asperger, H., 14 Code of Practice, 33–4
Asperger’s syndrome, 14–15 cognitive aids, 4
assessment, 4, 118 cognitive impairment, 9–12
attention deficit hyperactivity disorder collective representations, 45
(ADHD), 4, 35, 66, 131–2, 146 Commission for Scientific Medicine
audism, 1 and Mental Health, 36
Austin, J. L., 96–7, 124–5 communication
Australia see also language
categories of special education in, disorders, 16
30–1 social processes of, 47
entitlement to special education in, compensatory drives, 67
30–1 computer technology, 4
autism spectrum disorder, 14–15, 35, Comte, A., 44
36, 128, 148 concept analysis, 124–39, 159, 160
autonomy, 125 conduct disorders, 48, 62
Cooley, C., 46–7
Bad Mouthing (Corbett), 113 Corbett, J., 22, 65, 69, 100–1, 113–17,
Barker, C., 107–8 121–2, 140–2, 149, 150
barriers, 151–2 Couser, G. T., 75–83, 86, 89, 148, 157–8
Bauby, J.-D., 81 criminal behavior, 62
Becker, H., 60 cripples, 14
behavioural disorders, 15–16 current terminology, 25–41, 156–7
Benjamin, S., 118–19, 122 curriculum, 3–4
Benn, S. I., 129, 145 developmental, 27
Bentley, J. K. C., 52–3 symbolic interactionism and, 54–5,
binary opposites, 100, 102, 160 57
The Birth of the Clinic (Foucault), 110 cytogenesis, 127
173
174 Index
Danforth, S., 53–4, 98–9, 141 disabled, 98, 102, 105

Dannett, H., 12 disabled children, discourse on,
Davis, K., 143 119–21
deaf, 13 Discipline and Punish (Foucault), 110
deaf and dumb, 13, 19 discourse, 107–23, 158, 160
deafblindness, 17 analysis, 45
Deaf culture, 1, 13 constructing children as ‘other’,
deconstruction, 91–106, 158, 160 119–21
arbitrariness of the sign, 92–3 definition of, 107–8
candidates, 103–5 disability and, 112–13
as critical reading, 97 discursive practices and, 107–8
criticisms of, 96–7 dominant, 114–16, 118–19
Derrida and, 91–9, 102, 103 formation, 108
différance and trace, 93–4, 102–3 Foucault and, 109–11
of existing hierarchies, 100–1, 105 hierarchy of, 115
logocentrism, 93, 94–5 nature of, 107–8
special education and, 98–103 special education and, 113–17
of substantial texts, 103 special needs identities and, 118–19
defensive subcultures, 116 discrimination, 126
delicate children, 17 discursive practices, 107–8
depressive disorders, 48 discursive subjects, 117–18
Derrida, J., 91–9, 102, 103, 158 disorders
designated disability codes, 9, 12, 15, concept of, 130–2
16, 29–30, 33 language of definitions of, 34–6
development, 5 types of, 3
concept of, 126–7 disruptive behaviour disorders, 37
criticisms of views of, 127–8 distance vision, 12
human, 127 diversity, 128
typical/atypical, 127–8 The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
developmental curriculum, 27 (Bauby), 81
developmentalism, 1, 128 dominant discourse, 114–16, 118–19
deviance, 59–60, 61, 62, 65 Down, J. L., 18
Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Down syndrome, 18
Mental Disorders Fifth Edition Durkheim, E., 44, 45
(DSM-5), 34 duties, 145
différance, 93–4 dyscalculia, 20, 152
direct code instruction, 37 dysgraphia, 16, 28, 152
disabilities dyslexia, 16, 20, 28, 67, 152
cultural representation of, 75 dyspraxia, 20, 28
discourse and, 112–13
language of definitions of, 34–6, 39 education
misrepresentations of, 76–7 see also special education
rights and, 129–30 concept of, 2
social constructions of, 53–4 Education (Handicapped Children)
types of, 3 Act, 11–12, 18
disability culture, 115 Education Act, 15, 21
disability memoirs, 75–90, 157–8, 160 educational methods, 2
categories of, 78–83 Egerton commission, 9
Couser on, 75–83 emancipation rhetoric, 81–3
Index 175
emotional disorders, 15–16 human development, 127

emotive language, 142–4 human rights, 128
England
Code of Practice, 33–4 identity spread, 67, 74
entitlement to special education in, idiots, 10, 19–20
31–2 Idiots Act, 9
environmental factors, 19–20 imagery, 140–1
epilepsy, 17 images, 116
epistémès, 52, 158, 160 imbeciles, 10, 19, 20–1
equality of opportunity, 126 impairment, 112–13
ethnomethodology, 46 Inclusive Schooling (Department for
eugenics, 150 Education and Skills), 104–5
euphemisms, 63–4, 147–9 individuals with disabilities, attitudes
evidence-based practice, 37–8 toward, 22
exceptional children, 22, 148 Individuals with Disabilities
excluding interactions, 52 Education Act, 29
existing meanings, 52–3 intellectual disability, 9–12, 28
expressive aphasia, 16 aspirations for students with, 18–19
classifications of, 10–11
face-to-face interactions, 46 definition of, 10, 34
faecal imagery, 140–1 labelling, 65–6
Farrell, M., 126 reports and institutions, 9
Foucauldian genealogy, 52 International Convention on the Rights of
Foucault, M., 26, 52, 53, 97, 103, 108, Persons with Disabilities, 129–30
109–11, 117, 121, 158 I Raise My Eyes to Say Yes (Sienkiewicz-
free will, 125, 126 Mercer and Kaplan), 81–3
Gallagher, D. J., 145 jargon, 27–8, 39, 159

general education, 2 A Journey into Personhood (Webb), 80–1
genesis, 127 Jupp, K., 149
Ghia, A., 22
Glendon, M., 129 Kanner, L., 14
global developmental delay, 9, 34–5 Kanner syndrome, 14
goal-directed need, 132–3 Kaplan, S. B., 81–3
Goffman, E., 60 Kenny, A., 96, 97
Goodley, D., 48–9, 55–6, 63, 100, 142, knowledge, 109, 111, 112
149, 150, 153 Kugelmass, J., 49–50
gothic rhetoric, 79–80
Gottleib, J., 68 labelling, 58–74
Grossberg, L., 108 attention deficit hyperactivity
disorder, 66
Handicapped Pupils and School criticism of labelling theory, 61
Health Service Regulations, 11, 21 euphemisms and, 63–4
hard of hearing, 13 identity spread and, 74
hearing impairment, 13 intellectual disability, 65–6
hierarchies, 100–1, 105, 115 medical type labels, 67, 152
historical changes, 8 negative, 65–7, 69–70, 160
historical terminology, 8–24, 156–7 positive, 68–9
home study, 4 process, 63–4
176 Index
labelling – Continued Marx, K., 44

special schooling, 69–72 materiality of the body, 112–13
special students and, 62–4 Mead, G. H., 44, 47
stereotyping and, 58–9 meaning
theory, 59–61, 73–4, 157, 160 bestowing, 49–50, 55, 56
language concept of, 42–3
of categorisation, 39 deconstruction of, 91–106
changes in, 19–22 existing meanings, 52–3
common features and differences in range of, 125
legal, 33–4 social construction of, 42–57
current terminology, 25–41 medical type labels, 67, 152
definition of, 2 memoirs, disability, 75–90, 157–8,
of definitions of disabilities and 160
disorders, 34–6 mental deficiency, 9–11, 20–1
emotive, 142–4 Mental Deficiency Act, 9, 10, 11, 21
historical terminology, 8–24 Mental Health Act, 21
identity spread and, 67 mental illness, 110–11
limitations of, 161–2 metaphors, 116, 140–1
misleading, 145–55, 159, 160 Minogue, K., 70
negative connotations, 20–2 misleading language, 145–55, 159,
ordinary, 124–5 160
persuasive, 140–5, 154–5, 159, 160 Mittler, P., 22
power of, 161 mongoloid, 18
scientific, 36–9 morons, 11, 19, 20–1
slogans, 144–5 Mulberry Bush School, 88–9
social construction of disability and, multi-sensory impairment, 17
53–4 Muntham House School, 88
of special needs, 113–15
in symbolic interactionism, 47–8 naming, 146
learning difficulties, 28, 65 Nazis, 149–51
legal terminology, 29–34, 39 need, 132–3
A Leg to Stand On (Sachs), 79 negative associations, 149–51
Lemert, E. M., 61 negative connotations, 20–2
letter-sound correspondences, 37 negative labelling, 65–7, 69–70, 160
Lévi-Strauss, C., 91–2 neologisms, 97
Lewis, A., 85 neurogenesis, 127
Linton, S., 148–9 neuropsychology, 38
logocentrism, 93, 94–5 normality, 117
looking glass self, 46 nostalgia for lost abilities, 81
Look Up for ‘Yes’ (Tavarolo), 80
low vision, 12 objects, 108, 112, 117–18
Of Grammatology (Derrida), 91–2, 96,
Macey, D., 107, 108 97
Madness and Civilisation (Foucault), Oliver, M., 140–1
97, 106, 110 Olkin, R., 141
mainstreaming, 54, 121, 142 ontogenesis, 127
maladjustment, 19–20 oppositional defiance disorder (ODD),
Mallet, R., 141 66
Marshall, G., 61 order, 130
Index 177
The Order of Things (Foucault), 109 rhetoric

ordinary language philosophy, 124–5 emancipation, 81–3
Other, 82 gothic, 79–80
nostalgia for lost abilities, 81
parent-child interaction therapy, 37 spiritual compensation, 80–1
parents, views of, 72–3, 104–5 triumph over adversity, 78–9
Parsons, T., 44–5 Rhodes, W. C., 53–4, 98–9, 141
pedagogy, 4, 55 Richardson, K., 150
performative writing, 96–7 rights, 128–30, 145
personal perspectives, 48–9 room management, 4
persuasive language, 140–5, 154–5, Rousseau, J.-J., 91, 92, 97
159, 160 Ruddock, J., 83
Peters, R. S., 2, 129, 145
phonocentrism, 92, 96 Sachs, O., 79
physical disability, 14 Saussure, F. de, 91, 92–3, 96
Piaget, J., 109 school building design, 4
political correctness, 147–9 school curriculum, 3–4
positive labelling, 68–9 school organisation, 4
positivism, 37–8, 39 scientific language, 36–9
postmodernism, 158 Scott, J., 61
see also deconstruction; discourse Scruton, R., 111
poststructuralism, 91, 100 secondary deviance, 61, 62, 65
power, 61, 65–6, 109, 111–13 segregated schools, 69–70, 86
of language, 161 selective quoting, 153–4
relations, 61, 109, 110, 113, 115, self-concept, 46–7
117, 121 semantic pragmatic disorder, 16
power-knowledge, 109, 113, 117–18, severe learning difficulties, 19, 21
121, 122, 158, 160 sexual imagery, 141
pragmatism, 50–1 Shapiro, J., 64, 148
prestigious words, 152–3 Shildrick, M., 102–3
Price, J., 102–3 Shorter, E., 110–11
Priestley, M., 119–21, 122 Sienkiewicz-Mercer, R., 81–3
primary deviance, 59–60, 61 signified, 92–3
primary groups, 46–7 signifier, 92–5
privileged terms, 100 signs, 92–3, 95–6
profound intellectual disability, 10 Silverwood, A., 143
profound learning difficulties, 19, 21 simile, 140–1
P scales (performance scales), 27, 35 Singer, J., 148
psychiatry, 110, 111 Skrtic, T., 45
psychogenesis, 127 Sleeter, C. E., 45
psychotherapy, 50 slogans, 144–5
Snellen test chart, 12
quoting, selective, 153–4 social action, 45–6
social construction, 157, 160
radical criticism, 48 of disability, 53–4
radical structuralist view, 45 of meaning, 42–57
rationality, 126 of special needs, 114–15
reason, 125 social factors, 19–20
resource rooms, 26–7 social model perspective, 86
178 Index
social skills, 55 structural-functionalist view, 45

social structures, 61 structuralism, 95
sociology structured teaching, 4, 27–8
nature of, 43–4 Stryker, S., 51
scope of, 44–6 student development, 5
special education students
about, 2–3 see also special students
access in, 136–7 maladjusted, 19–20
analysing concepts in, 124–39, 159, views of special schools, 71
160 student views, 71, 87–9
current language in, 25–41 student voice, 75, 83–9, 157–8
deconstruction and, 98–103 consultation and participation,
discourse and, 113–17 83–4
entitlement to, 29–32, 35 influence of, 83
future of, 162 listening to, 87–9, 90
historical terminology in, 8–24 in special schools, 86–7
label of, 65 special students and, 84–9
need in, 132–3 subjective experiences, 51–3
provision of, 3–5, 18, 54–6 subjects, 108
rights and, 129–30 switches, 28
symbolic interactionism and, 48–54 symbolic interactionism, 42, 43, 45–6,
special educational needs, 31–2, 35 56–7
specialist terminology, 27–8 definition of, 46
special needs implications for special education,
identities, 118–19 48–54
language of, 113–15 origins and development of, 46–7
special schools/schooling personal perspectives and, 48–9
cost of, 142–3 role of language in, 47–8
labelling, 69–72 special provision and, 54–6
parents’ views of, 72–3 subjective experiences and, 51–3
students’ views of, 71 symbols, 47
student voice in, 86–7
special students, 3–5, 148 Tavarolo, J., 80
aspirations and responsibilities Taylor, S. J., 141
regarding, 18–19 teachers, 215–16
as discursive subjects, 117–18 terminology
labelling and, 62–4 acronyms, 28–9
negative labelling and, 65–7 current, 25–41, 156–7
as objects of knowledge, 117–18 definition of, 25
positive labelling and, 68–9 in disciplines other than
therapy and, 135 philosophy, 125
voice of, 75, 84–9 education, 26
specific learning disorder, 16–17, 28 historical, 8–24, 156–7
spiritual compensation rhetoric, 80–1 importance of, 25–6
Stanley School, 86–7 legal, 29–34, 39
Steiner, G., 109 medical, 67
stereotyping, 58–9 scientific, 36–9
stigma, 60, 115 special education, 26–7
strengths, 67 specialist, 27–8
Index 179
therapy, 5, 55–6, 134–5 visual acuity, 12

Titchkosky, T., 98 visual impairment, 12
Tomlinson, S., 45 Vlachou, A. D., 68–9
trace, 93–4, 102–3 Vygotsky, L., 67
Tremain, S., 112–13, 121
triumph over adversity rhetoric, Warnock, M., 70
78–9 Warnock Report, 21
Turner, B. S., 48 weaknesses, 67
Webb, R. C., 80–1
United States Weber, M., 44, 45–6
designated disability codes, 9, 12, Wertheimer, A., 145, 152
15, 16, 29–30, 33 White, H., 124
entitlement to special education in, World Health Organization, 18, 22
29–30 writing
unsubstantiated views, 154 performative, 96–7
US Code of Federal Regulations, 30 process, 95

Investigating The Language of Special Education

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About the Author viii

Introduction: The Importance of Language in Special Education 1

1 Past Voices: Historical Terminology 8

2 Present Voices: Current Language in Special Education 25

3 Grand Designs: Constructing Social Meaning 42

4 Labelling: New Labels for Old? 58

5 Disability Memoirs and Student Voice 75

6 Problematizing Meaning: Deconstruction 91

7 Immersed in Language: Discourse 107

8 Analysing Concepts in Special Education 124

9 Persuasive or Misleading Language 140

It is eighteen years since Corbett’s (1996) Bad Mouthing was written;

Michael Farrell was educated in the United Kingdom. After training as a

By ‘language’ I mean human verbal or written communication using

What is special education?

The nature of general education and special education

Taking this as a starting point, I will look at legal frameworks and

Types of disorders and disabilities

Special students and special educational provision

the balance of components of subjects; and the content of certain areas

Therapy can lead to changes in behaviour, attitudes and self-valuing,

Enhancing development and progress

The purpose of the book

Investigating the Language of Special Education: Listening to Many Voices

In each chapter, I present a broad orientation to a topic before examining

about different approaches, descriptions and an evaluation of attempts

I hope readers will include:

● Students, researchers, and teachers of linguistics and its application

Some key questions

The book explores various issues and questions:

● Historically, do shifts in social and cultural trends, knowledge,

communication be encouraged between students, parents, and

To begin to look at these tantalising questions and others, in the next

Language previously used in early special education reflects the way

To understand the nature of historical changes, one must consider the

Reports and institutions

‘Mental deficiency’ and modern definitions

Today, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) (2013, pp. 33–41)

Classifications of mental deficiency: ‘Idiot’ and

Classifications of mental deficiency: ‘Imbecile’ and modern

Classifications of mental deficiency: ‘Moron’ and modern

Subsequent acts and reports relating to cognitive impairment

terms ‘profound learning difficulties’, ‘severe learning difficulties’,

In the US, the ‘designated disability codes’ include ‘visually handi-

Regarding ‘hearing impairment’, previously the terms ‘deaf and dumb’

Pause for reflection

Celebrating Deaf culture and the notion of cure

In England (Department for Education and Skills, 2005, passim) and

Autism spectrum disorder

there was debate about whether Asperger’s syndrome is best considered

Pause for reflection

Medical history of autism spectrum disorder

Emotional and behavioural disorders

Historically, in England there was reference in regulations following

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity disorder is classed as an emotional and

Certain disorders of communication take their name from historical

Specific learning disorder

What is termed ‘specific learning disorder’ in the US and ‘specific learning

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Fifth Edition

In the US, ‘designated disability codes’ refer to ‘deaf/blind’. In England

Pause for reflection