Autism Vox

Mainpooling and Inclusive Swimming

by Kristina Chew, PhD on June 29th, 2007

To mainstream or not to mainstream?: When it comes to educating autistic children, this question can generate exchanges as impassioned as those about whether or not vaccines cause autism. On Thursday, June 28th, a coalition of New Jersey advocacy groups filed a federal lawsuit against the state in which, as reported in the Star-Ledger, they contend that “thousands of special education students are being wrongfully educated in segregated classes, bringing to court a long-running sore point for New Jersey.”

The state serves about 43 percent of its children with disabilities in predominantly general education classes, well below the national average of about 55 percent, according to the most recent data.

More glaring is the 10 percent who are placed in separate schools altogether, by far the nation’s highest rate. And the lawsuit contends the use of separate classes or schools is especially high among some students, including those in preschool, black and Hispanic children.

“If New Jersey approached the national average (for separate classrooms),” reads the lawsuit, “almost 13,000 fewer children would be in segregated placements.”

They would include those like a girl cited in the complaint who was denied mainstream preschool after the district told her parents “that it did not offer inclusion unless so ordered by the courts.” Other districts said they couldn’t afford such programs.

The plaintiffs in the case are New Jersey Protection & Advocacy Inc., Education Law Center, the Statewide Parent and Advocacy Network of New Jersey and the Arc of New Jersey. The defendants are the state Department of Education, state Education Commissioner Lucille Davy and the state Board of Education.

NJ state officials have indeed become “aggressive in pressing districts to provide more inclusive programs, setting broad goals for bringing down the separate- placement numbers in the next five years”; nearly $19 million has been earmarked to create in-district programs as well.

There are two issues that I have been especially aware of in regard to autism education and mainstreaming. First: There are parents who prefer for their children—depending on the child’s needs and disability—-to have a child educated in a separate school, and I think this more than understandable. New Jersey has a number of private autism schools, more than a few of which are very highly regarded, and families have moved here from around the country and the world in the hope of their children attending one of these schools. In these schools, autistic children are educated in a completely separate setting from their non-autistic peers; the costs of tuition and transportation can add up.

Another issue concerning mainstreaming is in regard to actually including autistic students in regular classrooms, with or without an aide or paraprofessional. When my son was younger, I thought that him being in this sort of “mainstream” situation (in a classroom with his same-aged peers) was a necessary sign of his progress and development. My son is currently in a self-contained classroom that is housed in a public school in our town. While some of the students in his class do attend some classes with their typical peers, Charlie is not one of these students. In regard to his academics and his learning, we have come to see that he needs to learn in the setting that is most conducive to him learning. For Charlie to be in a regular classroom with 20-plus typical students would be a highly restrictive setting for him, as he would have numerous difficulties concentrating and communicating, not to mention the extent to which his academic skills are not at the same level as his grade (just finishing 4th) and age. Charlie has learned better in a self-contained special education classroom.

I have been learning, though, that there is more than one way to mainstream. If Charlie could play a musical instrument well enough to play with a group with other students; if Charlie could run fast enough to keep up with the same-age kids on the track team, why might not music and P.E. or sports teams not be mainstream options for him?

Because Charlie is in a self-contained classroom and is an only child, he is not usually with other children. Yesterday, on a sultry and hazy afternoon, he was beside himself with smiles to jump into the swimming pool at the YMCA. A grandmother was there with two grandchildren, both about Charlie’s age, and his exuberance—splashing, warbling, swimming his self-styled breaststroke and backstroke, evoked frowns from her. I smiled and swam with Charlie and emphasized that he swim in the deep end, as he was happy to do. After twenty minutes 30 children walked in—-they were in a summer camp program—and Charlie and I had to go to the water slide.

I say “had to go” because Charlie has liked walking up slides as much as to go down them; he has also had moments of standing as if frozen at the top of a slide for several, several minutes and looking at everything below. Picturing lines of disgruntled children snaking down the stairs as they waited for me to non-intrusively prompt Charlie, “You can go!” (and lifeguards a-whistling, and parents a-complaining), Jim and I had decided just to avoid the slide as long as we might.

On Thursday, Charlie must have climbed the steps, paused to splash and stare and the jets of water, positioned himself in the slide and pushed himself off, and emerged in a rush of foam and spray 30-plus times. After a few times of walking up with him, nodding to the lifeguard on the stairs, and tapping Charlie on the back, I started to watch Charlie go up and go down on his own, provided that there was no line. It was also good for me to be waiting at the bottom, as the foaming water spewing forth from the slide was too alluring not to splash and twirl in; I could see the lifeguard telling Charlie “no playing in this area, go outside the rope”—-and Charlie jumped and laughed, and slowly did as requested. When I said “walk slowly,” after a few skips, he did.

Beside the slide is a 3 1/2 foot pool, with kids swimming and throwing balls, and, beside it, a wading pool with a small slide and a fountain. Some boys were throwing around a multicolored beach ball—-just the kind of ball that Charlie used to be fascinated with in a Teletubbies video featuring the beach, a ball, and a dog named Jesso. If the ball floated loose, Charlie dove for it; he sometimes tugged at it in the other boy’s arms and walked away, smiling. At one point, he secured the ball and swam with it under him around the pool and gave it back when I pointed out that the boys had been playing a game with it.

Listening to directions from new people, joining in pool play, as he could: The pool is one of the places where Charlie is (at this point in his life) as close to being mainstreamed—”mainpooled”—-as he can be. He is more confident and relaxed just to be in the water, perhaps more alert. Nonetheless, including him at the pool—-”inclusive swimming”—-takes some effort. On Thursday, when he first tried the slide, Charlie only had to wait a few times to use the slide. Today, we were unable to swim in the bigger pool at all because it had been reserved for the summer camp program. Just as Charlie was hurrying over to the slide, the lifeguards closed it: Apparently one of the guards had cut her foot on the slide and everything had to be cleaned. Charlie sighed, woebegone, then secured a beach ball that I pointed out to him; he went into the off-limits area at the bottom of the slide with that lovely foaming water; he sawm up and down the shallow pool, laughing, and let the ball go; he sighted a beach ball in the wading pool area and snatched it from a tiny little girl, whose mother and her friend cast looks of open-mouthed horror in his direction.

I directed Charlie to give back the ball and apologize and, rushing to do my request, he pushed his way past a girl on the ladder. Her mother frowned and I quickly said “He’s autistic”—”My niece is too,” she replied. “I shouldn’t have said anything, don’t worry about it!” Later, while Charlie was swimming with the beach bal in his palms, a girl his age was trying to blow more air into another ball; Charlie took it. I knelt on the wet concrete and pointed out that he already had a ball. The girl smiled and was not at all bothered: “It’s fine,” she said. And looked over at Charlie and smiled. Charlie gave her the ball back and splashed away, swimming backfloat alongside some goggled and swim-capped children.

I think it’s going to be a good summer in the great inclusive classroom of the swimming pool.

Share This

Related Stories

Extreme Special Ed (Surfing Board Not Optional)
Encore! ArtStream’s Inclusive Theatre
He’s a Really Good Swimmer, Really
Who Needs Water After All
Flip, Flip

POSTED IN: Education, Music, Sensory, Sports, Water, Weather