Just under two weeks ago, science won a small victory. The U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania denied the appeal of two parents suing the Lower Merion, PA school district for allegedly violating the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). At issue was whether the school had neglected to provide their son with a free and appropriate public education (known under the IDEA as FAPE). The parents alleged that the school failed to provide FAPE because it refused
1. to allow their son to use, in academic settings, a form of facilitated communication known as Spelling to Communicate (S2C)
2. to provide their son with a trained communication partner for communication via S2C
In a recent Washington Post commentary Clara Ferreira Margues, the parent of an autistic child, provides some much-needed critical commentary on new Korean courtroom drama. As Margue rightly laments, the “Extraordinary Attorney Woo” is yet another show about a character with stereotypical autism superpowers. Yet another show, in other words, that fails to
show people with disabilities as they are. Rather, they are shown as audiences want them to be. In this case, awkward but pretty, academically high-achieving, notching up one professional triumph after another.
I see I used the word “story” in this re-post of part II of my “hating history” series. Nowadays, the buzzword is “narrative.”
But what I’ve come to think really matters is suspense. A good story can accomplish that, but so can a compelling question with no obvious, immediate answer: one posed at the beginning of class, with students hazarding guesses and with the clues to the answer slowly accumulating as class progresses.
And just as chronological presentations can help you remember things, so do predictions. Whether the answer confirms or contradicts your prediction, you’re more likely to remember it if something stoked your curiosity about it ahead of time and got you emotionally invested in what it would turn out to be.
Why do some history teachers hate history?, Part II
This book has been out since late June–technically speaking–though it has only recently made it into warehouses. So I’m just now getting around to posting about it.
Cutting-Edge Language and Literacy Tools for Students on the Autism Spectrum covers the root causes of the language and learning challenges in autism, their consequences for language acquisition and literacy, and a variety of tools and strategies for addressing them, from teaching technologies to assistive technologies. Drawing on what the most current evidence shows about the nature of autism and which therapies and technologies are most successful, the book reviews the efficacy of existing language therapies, literacy strategies, and assistive technologies. Covering topics such as speech deficits, language learning, comprehension, and assistive communication tools, this reference work is ideal for clinicians, behavioral specialists, speech-language pathologists, special educators, researchers, academicians, practitioners, scholars, educators, and students.
And, of course, there is a chapter on facilitated communication and its latest variants.
I was reminded of this old post from Out In Left Field yesterday when LinkedIn’s algorithms suggested I connect with a former student of mine whom I’ve never forgotten. Many years ago, this student submitted two projects to me. The second project was a redo of the first. The problem with the first project was that it was based on a program for autistic students that, with just a bit of sleuthing, I was able to determine didn’t actually exist. The problem with the second project was that, while it was based on a program that did exist, it contained word-for-word replications of the interviews with the fictional teachers from the fictional program, with only their names changed.
Because the student was connected with people in high places, they (the student)1 were able to get their grade converted not just to a passing grade, but to a grade that, as I was told privately by someone higher up than me, I would rather not know the details of.
The student’s LinkedIn page is commensurately impressive2.