Having spent the last two weeks celebrating the promise of technology to bring new resources and modes of interaction into the classroom, I find myself in somewhat of a shame spiral. I confess that I never even considered how technology, which I imagine to be a tool for shrinking achievement gaps, could have the opposite effect for some students, further isolating them from their peers and from the broader global community. It will be difficult enough to incorporate social networking and multimedia instruments into fluid curricula in an orderly and effective way. But the social, political and ethical implications of such drastic transformation of the classroom environment have yet to be fully explored. Students with visual impairments, clearly already suffering from a lack of resources and assistance, will likely have difficulty engaging in a classroom that emphasizes video or internet technologies. Students with hearing impairments might also find the use of audio resources (such as podcasts) challenging. Students with learning disabilities could find it difficult to adapt to technological tools that require a range of sensory explorations. How did I not see this?I recently learned that a friend of mine, Reggie Howard, had passed away. Reggie grew up in Alabama during the time when many southern states maintained separate schools for the blind, a white school and a black school. I remember Reggie’s telling me that blind students at the black school were always excited to hear that the white school would be getting new Braille books because that meant that the black school would also be getting new Braille books, the old books from the white school passed on to the black school for the blind. When the white school got new desks, the black school got new desks, the old ones from the white school.
Segregation was wrong. It harmed children, but how much and in what ways? It is true that it was a few years later that blind students at the black school learned that Constantinople is now Istanbul. And it is true that the books were a little worn, the desks a little the worse for wear. But they had books. They had desks. They had a school and teachers who cared and did their best. And, yes, they did learn. They learned math and English. They learned science and social studies, and they learned something else--they learned that society believed them to be inferior, inferior because of their race and inferior because of blindness. They were harmed by a substandard education. They were harmed by poor facilities. But most of all they were harmed by prejudice--prejudice rooted in low expectations. But society was wrong. Reggie was not inferior, not inferior because of race and not inferior because of blindness. And neither was any of the other students at the Alabama School for Negro Deaf and Blind.
Today most blind children, black and white, are educated in ordinary public school classrooms. But, as with the desegregation of public schools, including schools for the blind, physical desegregation does not in and of itself confer equality. Blind children, black and white, continue to be society's forgotten, some educated in schools for the blind and some in local public schools, but still forgotten, regarded as children with no future, no promise, no meaning--for the most part desegregated, but not yet integrated.
It is assumed that sighted children will learn to read and write, yet today only 10 percent of blind children learn to read and write Braille. It is assumed that sighted children will have books and libraries and other resources to support their learning; but today blind children continue to wait for Braille books, only a handful have ever seen a Braille library, and basic tools like Braille notetakers are rarely available; and when they are, often it is only after an intense struggle with school officials. It is assumed that sighted children will graduate from high school, and we count it a crisis in American education when the dropout rate reaches double digits. But where is the public outcry about the dropout rate among the blind? Today only 45 percent--fewer than half--of all blind children will earn a high school diploma. We will not stand by and allow this to continue.... It was the National Federation of the Blind that said to the Congress that the isolation--the social and economic segregation--of blind people must end, that blind people deserve the chance to learn and work and live as others, and, to do so, they must have the opportunity to become literate.
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We must find blind people and help them learn to believe in themselves, believe that, given training and opportunity, they can live full and productive lives; and that means we must bring them into the National Federation of the Blind. It means we must help society learn to think differently about Braille and, by extension, think differently about blindness and blind people. It means we must help parents recognize the importance of Braille in their children's lives. It means we must convince teachers of blind children that Braille is the cornerstone of literacy and therefore the cornerstone of opportunity. And it means we must make sure that the resources are available so that blind children have access to competent instruction in Braille reading and writing.
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No matter society's low expectations, Reggie was not inferior, not inferior because of race and not inferior because of blindness, and neither was any of the other students at the Alabama School for Negro Deaf and Blind. No matter how limited their opportunities, opportunities constricted b low expectations, they were not inferior, nor is any other blind person, black or white. Reggie was not inferior, nor am I, nor are you, nor is any other blind person. This is the Braille Readers Are Leaders campaign. This is the National Federation of the Blind.
Our job as educators is to provide an equitable learning environment for students of diverse backgrounds, abilities and attitudes. The integration of public schools, not only in terms of race and gender, but also disability clearly had unforeseen consequences. Before we look to the future of virtual classrooms, we should probably invest our limited resources in improving our actual ones.
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Stella, great post. Very interesting topic. I never considered this either. I imagine, and I don't know how, that there is a way to use technology in creative ways to avoid isolating students. I never considered using technology in the ways that have been demonstrated so far in the class. I would have to believe that there are even greater possibilities. You pose a very interesting dynamic, but I wonder if there are ways that technology can help students with disabilities rather than hinder them. Either way, I think this is a great issue to raise awareness on. I wonder if this will be addressed in our 490 class around disabilities.
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