What blind and low vision learners need educators to understand
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Tēnā koutou kātoa,
I haere mai ōku tūpuna i Kōtirana
No Kirikiriroa taku papa kainga
Kie Waikato-Tainui ahau e noho ana
Ko Parents of Vision Impaired NZ (PVI) āku mahi
Ko Rebekah Graham taku ingoa
In this blog post, I present commonalities of experience of Parent of Vision Impaired (PVI) as provided to me in my role as EO for PVI over the past 18 months. Parents have generously shared their stories in order to “make it better” for other parents and to assist educators to understand the everyday realities they face. Parent comments are anonymised or provided with pseudonyms in order to protect their privacy throughout. This post collates their challenges while navigating schooling and education systems on behalf of their child and reflects on what works with regards to creating an inclusive school environment.
Kāpō[1]-related research in Aotearoa notes that undiagnosed vision impairments can be misinterpreted by educational staff as “behavioural challenges”[2]. While under-diagnosis of vision issues is a health system matter, educators can provide supportive and accessible environments for students, even in the absence of a formal diagnosis. Core barriers in education faced by kāpō students and their parents/whānau relate to misunderstanding visual fatigue, environmental barriers, and school attitudes.
Visual fatigue
Visual fatigue relates to tiredness and associated behaviours. Kāpō students have to work harder to keep up, and the extra work can be taxing. Where quiet spaces and rooms for self-managed breaks are provided, these can assist visually impaired students to remain engaged. PVI parents share their experiences below:
Our students started full time college this year (mainstream) but will come home when too overwhelmed/overloading and strategies are not working (which isn’t very often). This is a change from the last school. They have a pass to get out of class if it is all too much and can go to learning support or the library to complete work. Then home as the last option if we are available.
After struggling with major tiredness we were able to adjust [child’s] curriculum and get picked up early before lunch (was only 1 period after lunch anyway) but this meant loss of socialisation time which is a major detriment…at the time [child] was not coping and too grumpy to socialize anyway.
Our two [students] are full-time mainstream but only because the school has proper withdrawal, specialist learning spaces, and a large teacher aide team. Because [name] is ACC funded they get 30 TA hours but are still very fatigued after school.
Providing flexible and responsive environments are important to reducing stigma and feelings of embarrassment, which in turn leads to disengagement.
Environmental barriers
The wider environment that kāpō students are subjected to contributes to visual fatigue and disengagement. Comments from PVI parents suggest that the impact of the wider environment include:
School classrooms, playgrounds, and outdoor areas that are too noisy, too bright, too overwhelming, or physically difficult to access
Work material not provided in the students preferred alternate format OR provided several hours later/the next day
Rigid adherence to a teaching pedagogy that prioritised minimalistic classroom furniture and floor-based seating resulting in a classroom unsuited for a vision-impaired student who felt ‘othered’ and was subsequently hesitant to use the (reluctantly provided) single table and chair
Worksheet-based homework that was reduced in size (shrunk from A4 to A5 in order to fit ‘two to a page’); the smaller print increased visual fatigue
Assistive technology taking weeks/months to order and/or fix
Mobility toilets being used as storage cupboards and/or locked to prevent access
Transport options that arrive late or leave early. For example, one child has to “finish 40mins earlier on a Friday so the bus driver can get to their other route on time”.
“Biggest bugbear for me was - Getting teachers and teacher aides to use large font and big pictures! Have to remind them daily! It’s exhausting especially when they leave just as you get them trained and you have to start again” - – Jamie, PVI parent
These types of occurrences communicate a lack of welcome for disabled students and that their learning is not valued to the same extent. Communicating value and welcome occurs in everyday activities. For example, ensuring that learning materials are provided to the kāpō student at the same time as for fully sighted students, creating classroom environments that are uncluttered and navigable, using black whiteboard markers, ensuring worksheets are high contrast with clear lettering, auditing the mobility bathrooms to ensure they are easily and freely accessible for students, creating ‘quiet zones’ in classrooms and playgrounds, and writing lesson plans that incorporate the needs of kāpō students without othering or excluding,
“Education of teachers and teacher aids specific to the child and their needs/vision impairment. Just because a child doesn't look blind does not mean they're having you on! One size does not fit all purely vision-impaired child has very different needs to a child with other disabilities/issues. The teacher aid needs to be the eyes - not think or do for the child.” - Elinor, PVI parent
Attitudes to inclusivity
Parents/whānau report experiences of educators being dismissive of vision issues (e.g. “you don’t look blind”, “your child can see fine some days, they’re just putting it on”); their child not being “bad enough” to qualify for vision support (e.g. “only” blind in one eye, degenerative condition has not degenerated enough to qualify); and schools disinclined to provide support to the disabled student (e.g. schools who refuse to engage in property reviews or who do not allow yellow paint to be applied to steps as it ‘ruins the look’ of the school). One parent notes:
“Our child attended full-time but as they progressed through the school system it became harder and harder. At high school they were far too keen on shortening school days, not wanting [name] on some days, sending them home for minor reasons, and it was often a fight to maintain their right to be at school full time. The school gave the impression that as [name] was disabled, it didn't really matter if she attended or not.”
There is a need for educators and schools to be overtly welcoming and supportive of disabled children. Parents/whānau are keenly aware of body language and the subtleties of spoken language that are employed to exclude disabled people and promote stigma. Examples of this include politely suggesting another school/job as a ‘better fit’ or saying it would be ‘too hard’ to introduce accessible signage or complaining at having to enlarge handouts via photocopier. Such comments very clearly communicate a lack of welcome. This type of indirect-but-clear rejection is harder to challenge than more overt forms of discrimination. Nonetheless, it leaves parents/whānau feeling unwanted, excluded, marginalised – and reluctant to ask for the reasonable accommodations to which their student is entitled to.
“Making sure the school is onside with us as the parent and able to communicate changes, pushing for TA hours, making sure the school is inclusive of our child in everything they do. Advocating how important it is for our child to be seen, heard and treated like any other child. Also advocating for how important it is for the school to take interest and learning in what it's like for a visually impaired/blind child within the school environment.” - Jocelyn, PVI parent
There is inconsistency in provision of supports and the quality of inclusion in schools[1], [2]. Some schools flexibly manage funds and provide needed supports while others do not. This brings into question whether the issue is resourcing, or one of the perceived value of disabled students and the commitment (or lack thereof) to inclusion. For example, one school’s stated commitment to inclusivity is at odds with their refusal to provide (free!) inclusivity training for teachers, citing teacher time and not wanting to “wear teachers out” as a reason. While this may be the case, it is clear that the schools priorities lie elsewhere and not with the disabled student.
For some parents, dealing with years of difficulty prior to their child attending school, school attendance was fraught with difficulty and past trauma. For other parents, their schooling journey comes on top of an already challenging journey with the health system and grappling with their child’ diagnosis and what it mean. While well-meaning, a poorly worded comment from school staff and educators, or a careless throwaway remark, can invoke previous hurts. Such remarks, often perceived by those making them as “just one small comment”, fall on top of years of similar microaggressions, and leaves parents feeling marginalised and excluded.
“I wish teachers and learning support would understand the complex feelings of grief and burnout we may be experiencing as carers.” – Natali, PVI parent
Contributing to these challenges are the attitudes of other parents, who may not understand or value inclusion, or who may have concerns and worries of their own with regards to including disabled young people in the school and who may view disabled young people as a negative influence in the classroom. Other times parents may, as noted above, make a thoughtless remark without realising the wider impact that such comments can have.
Kāpō students need strong school leadership that addresses wider attitudes towards disability, promotes inclusive narratives, and ensures that schools are indeed inclusive and welcoming. This is entirely possible! Kāpō children and their parents/whānau are experts in their child’s journey and often know what works best for their child. Successful, authentic partnerships between educators, schools and whānau are based on what parents know works for their child, are strengthened through the building of trust, and are intentional about building overtly welcoming spaces.
[1] In this blog I use the term kāpō to refer to blind, deafblind, low vision and visually impaired persons.
[2] See, for example, McDowell, N. (2020). A pilot study of the Austin Playing Card Assessment: A tool to detect and find the degree of visual perceptual difficulties related to clutter. British Journal of Visual Impairment, 38(2), 118–136. https://doi.org/10.1177/0264619619896008
[3] Education Review Office. (2007). The ongoing and reviewable resourcing schemes: Good practice.
[4] Education Review Office. (2012). Including students with high needs: School questionnaire responses.
Dr Rebekah Graham (Pākehā) lives in Kirikiriroa with her husband, three of their four children, and two cantankerous cats. Dr Graham is the National Executive Director for Parents of Vision Impaired NZ, a blind consumer group with Blind Low Vision NZ. In this role, Rebekah advocates strongly and consistently for inclusion, accessibility and support for all, with a focus on parents/whānau of a vision impaired child. A registered community psychologist, Rebekah has academic research interests in the area of food insecurity, disability, health, and community resilience.
Email: rgraham@pvi.org.nz
Twitter handle: @bexgraham https://twitter.com/BexGraham