Since the days of the Salamanca statement, I have held that in terms of “inclusive education”, deaf children, deaf students and, indeed, the deaf world in general, is special and defies ‹inclusion› and the UN statement on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (2008) appears to bear this out.

To substantiate this assertion, I would first like to look at the fourteen (14) various main categories of disability, namely:(1) blind, (2) low vision, (3) deaf, (4) hard of hearing, (5) physically challenged (immobile), (6) physically challenged (mobile), (7) mentally-impaired (mild-moderate, education and training), (8) mentally-impaired (moderate-severe, training), (9) mentally-impaired (very severe, function and training), (10) multi-handicapped, (11) deaf-blind, (12) neurological disorders (cerebral palsy, etc), (13) learning and processing disorders, and (14) very severe, often multi-handicapped and medically-fragile.

Mapping the needs and provisions per specific category of disability proves offhand that not one of them imitate or is parallel to the other in terms of educational practice. Secondly, we have to consider the World Health Organization (WHO) estimate of some 600 million people from more than 200 countries around the globe who possess a variety of impairments.

Whether they have been able to build communities to foster cooperation and elicit support for and from one another or have remained individuals, they nevertheless represent an enormous diversity of cultures and subcultures, languages and customs, ethnicities, information transfer and management practices, educational models, values and beliefs that may not be accounted for by one encompassing strategy or set of strategies.

Many of the people comprising the aforementioned statistic come from underprivileged backgrounds and their schools and centres (provided there are any) may lack the necessary resources, with very large classes and poorly-trained teachers.

In varying degrees across different countries, there might be an overabundance or a noticeable lack of technology; in this light, to discuss good or bad practices in the health sector, specifically impairment or ‹disability› in a general sense is rather presumptuous and easily leads to oversimplification and generalizations, with the possibility of grave errors right around the corner.
Having said that, I must make one exception: the world of sign language-dependent deaf people, who are generally differentiated from people who are hard-of-hearing, or those who would refer to themselves as ‹culturally deaf› and if they are to actually engage in the argument, majority of deaf people worldwide are still verbally illiterate. They probably number at least some 20 million people and according to the latest WHO estimate, could be as many as 1 percent of the world population - equivalent to the populace of a fairly large country. This global deaf community is arguably the most cohesive multi-cultural, multi-ethnic, multi-nation, multi-everything group of people on earth.

However, this does not mean that there is no friction as they are but human; but there is instant recognition of a shared identity and barriers to spoken (verbal) language present no real obstacle. These are only two (2) phenomena of seemingly inherent concepts and practices that merit intense research, if only for its informative use to members of both the deaf and no-deaf communities.

Yet, interestingly enough, it is the deaf children and students, and their teachers, who seem to be considered least when it comes to appropriate educational models and the argument for inclusive education (IE). Of course the fact that I live and work in a developing or transitional country may mean that I do not have sufficient access to relevant information, but it seems that IE is generally accepted as the gold standard for the campaign, “Education for All”, and that we better subscribe to it if we want to be taken seriously.

I question this. The fact that IE is a worthy undertaking cannot be denied. However, I would expect that, as with most everything else, appropriate boundaries are drawn where this particular educational model has proven to be effective. Outside those boundaries, there are gray areas wherein it is perceived to be less effective and competes with other good models or circumstances wherein its (IE’s) application is simply inappropriate. Dare I say that in these instances, implementation of IE would lead to the failure of the model and the system as well as that of the teacher, student and child? We love the anecdotes of success and we revel in them; but frankly, I miss the tales of failure, which we tend to learn from the most than the former.

In my experience, there are plenty of children with a variety of impairments and conditions who may not be able to handle an educational environment that is inclusive. Good examples are deaf-blind children who need a one-on-one approach or children with learning and processing disorders, whose numbers are growing but the specificities of their condition have not been fully understood - some may lack “crowd control” skills, possess competitive disorders or attention deficit disorders.

Similarly, mentally-ill children and students, or autistic children, may suffer terribly under peer pressure, have had disturbing hyperactivity syndromes or, conversely, problems of distraction by activities in the classroom; and the lack of individual attention, if unaddressed, may lead to serious problems. Lastly, what about the children who are hard-of-hearing who suffer from audio logical recruitment or severe tinnitus that can drive people over and around the bend?

My contention is that deaf people find it hard to cope with IE; in general, their language and culture are not shared by the wider community or the “inclusive school” community. Rare will be the inclusive school environment that takes itself seriously enough to accommodate the deaf child or student by learning and using sign language fluently and full-time. But if that is not done, from the deaf point of view, the language, cultural and educational environments fall short of being ‹inclusive›.

What, then, can be done regarding education placement and models of provisions for these children? I believe in the inclusiveness of all human experience and the good practice that comes in different shapes and forms; perhaps it presents itself in the modern version of an inclusive setting and if not, it should not be too disconcerting because we may try an integrated, institutional, non-formal approach and be successful at it. The bottomline or key to good practice, regardless of the method employed, remains to be in the hands of good and dedicated teachers.

The conclusion? You cannot have inclusion where exclusion persists! Inclusive education is a valid option, but it is not EXCLUSIVELY, the only right choice. IE is not synonymous with the “Education for All” campaign, nor is it a panacea for all our troubles and I wish we would stop referring to it as such. As a model, it should be inclusive enough to leave room for other equally successful models that have been around or that will be developed. Indeed, it ought to be ready and able to include practitioners who do not reap significant benefits in these inclusive models; perhaps a small space for someone such as myself.