Undiagnosed vision impairments are far too often misinterpreted by educational staff as “behavioural challenges”[2]. While under-diagnosis of vision issues is a health system issue, educators can provide supportive and accessible environments for students, even in the absence of a formal diagnosis. Core barriers in education faced by kāpō (blind, deafblind, low vision and visually impaired) students and their parents/whānau relate to visual fatigue, environmental barriers, and school attitudes. This blog discusses each of these in turn, along with suggestions for what works:
Visual fatigue
Visual fatigue relates to tiredness and associated behaviours. Vision-impaired 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. Parents/whānau of visually impaired students comment below:
Our student started full time college this year (mainstream) but will come home when too overwhelmed/overloading and strategies 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 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 socialization 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. Where school staff are responsive to students access needs, identify early signs of fatigue, and can provide adequate and flexible supports, this helps to keep kāpō students engaged and attending school.
Environmental barriers
The wider environment that kāpō students are subjected to contributes to their visual fatigue and disengagement. Examples of environmental barriers include the following (these are all taken from recent parent experiences in Aotearoa New Zealand schools):
- 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 student’s preferred alternate format
- Rigid adherence to teaching pedagogy resulting in refusal to provide requested table and chairs for a vision-impaired student and unwillingness to incorporate the student’s needs into the teaching day
- Assistive technology taking weeks (and sometimes months!) to arrive or get fixed
- Mobility toilets being used as storage cupboards and/or locked to prevent access by students during the school day
- Transport options that arrive late or leave early, that eat into the students school time. For example, when a child has to finish 40mins earlier on a Friday so the bus driver can get to their other route on time.
These types of occurrences communicate a lack of welcome for disabled students across the board. Parents/whānau interpret these types of barriers as a lack of care and concern for their visually impaired young person and their learning.
The good news is that many of these environmental barriers are easily fixed! An attitude of inclusivity, attention to detail, and a willingness by the whole of school to ensure welcoming spaces within the school for kāpō students is all that is needed. It is entirely possible to create school environments with unlocked, clutter free toilets; with appropriate classroom furniture; with the necessary alternate formats; and play areas that are accessible.
“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”
Julie, 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:
“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.”
Elizabeth, PVI Parent
Another parent comments below on the ways in the school acted to exclude their child through subtle interactions and implying that their attendance at school was unimportant:
“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, marginalized – 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.”
Justine, PVI Parent
Inconsistency of inclusion
There is an inconsistency in provision of supports and the quality of inclusion in schools[3][4]. 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.
Parents/whānau of a disabled student wish that educators and school staff would understand the mountains some have already climbed just to get where they are. By the time a child gets to five years of age, many parents/whānau have already dealt with years of challenges and they bring these experiences with them when interacting with schools and associated staff. Such challenges include managing multiple professionals who give conflicting advice regarding what is best for their child, previous experiences of exclusion within social and educational settings, medical trauma, and difficulty accessing the support that they and their child is entitled to. There is a need for education providers and staff to be able to interact with parents and whānau with compassion, to believe the best (not the worst!) of all involved, and to leave defensiveness behind.
“I wish teachers and learning support would understand the complex feelings of grief and burnout we may be experiencing as carers.” – Nikki
Contributing to a sense of inclusion is the attitudes of the wider school community, including other parents. Where the wider school community understands and values inclusion, this has a significant difference to how welcome (or not!) families feel. Parents of non-disabled children may have concerns and worries of their own with regards to including disabled young people in the school, and some can view disabled young people as a negative influence in the classroom. School communities can front foot such concerns with open, honest, and supportive dialogue, being unashamedly pro-inclusion, and communicating positive messages regarding disabled students’ accommodations. Disabled students and their families need strong school leadership that addresses wider community attitudes towards disability, promotes inclusive narratives, and ensures that schools are indeed inclusive and welcoming for all, not just the fully sighted.
[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.
