British Educational Research Journal

Vol. 31, No. 2, April 2005, pp. 269–275

THEMATIC REVIEW

Inclusive education: discourse and

action

Inclusive education: readings and reflections

G. Thomas & M. Vaughan, 2004
Maidenhead, Open University Press
215 pp.
ISBN 0-335-20724-3
Inclusion: the dynamic of school development
D. Skidmore, 2004
Maidenhead, Open University Press
140 pp.
ISBN 0-335-20481-3
Educational inclusion as action research: an interpretive discourse
C. O’Hanlon, 2003
Maidenhead, Open University Press
131 pp.
ISBN 0-335-20732-4

The themes and their genesis

I write this thematic review having recently completed an EPPI (Evidence for Policy
and Practice Information) systematic review on pedagogical approaches for including
children with special educational needs in mainstream classrooms (Nind & Wearmouth,
2004). As we are all inevitably changed by our experiences and I have been immersed in
a particular process and a certain kind of literature, I might now find myself programmed
to ‘keyword’, ‘data extract’ and search for evidence. I might have a clear set of themes in
my head that has emerged from the systematic review as unifying or central concepts in
inclusive education. But instead I find myself grappling with notions of what makes a
difference. Is it ‘hard evidence’ of the kind that the EPPI system drives us to seek, or is it
the inspiration we gain from books rich in ideology and stories of practice? I know I am a
different teacher, for instance, because of Hart’s (1996) Beyond special needs and Hart
ISSN 0141-1926 (print)/ISSN 1469-3518 (online)/05/020269-7
# 2005 British Educational Research Association
DOI: 10.1080/0141192052000340251
270 Thematic review

et al.’s (2004) Learning without limits. Texts that touch me in this way are often richly
informed by research but there is often a sense in which they speak to me more because I find
their articulation of ideas convincing. In inclusive education literature I have not looked for
effect sizes as much as impact in terms of does this have a good fit with what I know and feel
and value in education? This may ultimately be how teachers operate when they read the
user summaries of systematic reviews, meaning that even the most ‘objective’ and
transparent of projects meets with a very human filter before being used, or not, in practice.
In this review then, one central theme, never far from the surface, is what kinds of
literature and evidence make a difference. Linked to this are the themes of discourse and
action: How do research reports and collections of readings impact on the way we
articulate the ‘problem’ and construct the ‘solution’ in inclusive education? Are we all
talking about and working towards the same thing in the grand inclusion project or, as
Clough (2000) argues, is it meaningless to talk about inclusion as a single entity rather
than contested territory—many different inclusions? The field of inclusive education
seems to be one where, more than anywhere perhaps, there are continual efforts to
separate discourse and action. Or at least there are attempts to tease apart what one may
believe about inclusive education and what one can know about it as a viable and
effective way to proceed. The ever-popular condemnation of inclusion for being
ideological is challenged particularly well in Thomas and Vaughan’s Inclusive education:
readings and reflections (as it was in Thomas and Loxley [2001]) and Skidmore’s Inclusion:
the dynamic of school development. O’Hanlon, in Educational inclusion as action research,
overtly tries to keep discourse and action connected when she suggests that action
research is at its best when seen as exploratory methodology and interpretive discourse,
that is, as a collaborative conversation. Before pursuing these connected themes further I
should make explicit my remaining connecting theme.
There is a common metaphor in the literature of inclusion as a journey (Ainscow,
2000; Allan, 2000). I want to explore this here, together with the notion of inclusion as a
project of transformation. I recall trying to capture some of this when preparing Open
University (2004) course materials. We commissioned a three-part cartoon to try to
illustrate the different ways in which academics/activists have depicted the journey or
struggle for inclusion. In the first illustration the road is long and the inclusive school lies
ahead in distant sunshine on the horizon. In the second the route is much more windy and
treacherous. And in the third the path is less clear and the obstacles and dangers all the more
apparent. I was reminded of this when I read that Thomas and Vaughan began by wanting to
do a book about turning points on the road to inclusion and then discovered that there
weren’t any turning points as such. This informs the way another version of our cartoon
might ultimately look, especially as Thomas and Vaughan describe not one road, but a
confluence of streams. These different streams of thought—social, political and
educational—have, they argue, gathered momentum in bringing inclusion closer.

What makes a difference?

One clear finding from research on attitudes to inclusive education is that involvement in
inclusive practice and familiarity with more diverse groups of learners is linked with more
positive attitudes to inclusive education; the influence of training and literature is less
 Thematic review 271

clear-cut (Mittler, 2000). One would be forgiven, then, for concluding that all the
rhetoric about inclusion stands a good chance of remaining rhetoric. Yet what has led to
some educational environments becoming more inclusive and so having the potential at
least to become sustainable? All three books have something to offer in answering this.
Thomas and Vaughan address this most overtly perhaps in what is billed as a historical
journey of the progress made to date on inclusive education. They use original
documents and classic texts interspersed with their own commentaries to show how
campaigns for social justice, theorising about equality and action for civil rights have
come together to bring about change. Incidentally, they admit to their selection of
readings being ‘personal and idiosyncratic’; unlike in a systematic review the resources
they draw together are not intended to be comprehensive or representative and their
processes are not transparent. They are, however, guided by their intention to answer
criticisms that inclusion has been driven by ideology, by showing some evidence of its
success and ‘more importantly, by indicating that principles are—and should be—a
central part of the argument in the move to inclusion’ (p. xi).
In Educational inclusion as action research O’Hanlon sets the scene by explaining her
history and motivation, and in doing so, she relates the all-important need to ‘figure out
for myself’ (p. 3) how to develop meaningful pedagogy. Like many of us, she began
engaging in action research processes intuitively, stimulated both by seeing her pupils as
interesting people and by a sense of social justice. Thus, she offers much more micro-
level insights into how classrooms become more inclusive. Her book is essentially about
‘action research for inclusive practice and action research as inclusive practice’ (p. 69).
She is clear about what comes first in the interrelationship between action research and
inclusion, arguing that for educational practice to become inclusive it must first become
reflective. But what makes a reflective practitioner have a concern with inclusion? Does
ideology have a role to play here?
The last part of this puzzle is where Skidmore’s book is particularly powerful. He
explicates the opposing discourses of inclusion and deviance. Using case studies of two
English secondary schools, he effectively portrays worlds in which these discourses are
played out on a daily basis. (I found myself taking sides, liking some characters and
disliking others, and even allocating people I know to different roles in what reads like an
unfolding drama!) In showing the discourse of deviance, the old-style special educational
needs coordinator talks of commitment to ‘those students’, arguing that ‘it’s the kids that
matter most’ (p. 63). Skidmore cleverly unpacks the benevolent humanitarianism at
work here. He shows how, whereas the discourse of inclusion appeals to abstract ideas or
theoretical concepts, the discourse of deviance appeals to narratives of personal
interactions, concrete examples of good practice and pragmatics. This helps us to keep a
critical perspective on the whole current preoccupation with ‘what works’ as just another
ideological position. Just as Thomas and Loxley (2001) have illustrated, we see here how
those who argue against ideologically informed positions fail to see their own ideology.
We also see how an intellectual commitment to social justice impacts on practice in
different ways and the importance of theoretical stance.
For me, there is a great deal of resonance between Skidmore’s book and Hart et al.’s
(2004) Learning without limits. Both texts enable the reader to see inside a school or
272 Thematic review

classroom and both intertwine narratives of practice with narratives of rationale for the
complex decisions made and paths pursued. What one believes in as a teacher (or
manager) and what one does in the minutiae of one’s practice is thus shown to be closely
linked. This is reassuring on the theme of whether all the rhetoric about inclusion has a
role to play. I am sure that O’Hanlon and Thomas are right to point out, in their series
editors’ preface to this series, that inclusion has become an international buzzword, ‘de
rigeur for policy documents, mission statements and political speeches’, often talked
about without meaning. I am also convinced, though, that the proper discussion of ideas
they advocate can influence practice every bit as much as ‘hard’ evidence.

Journey and transformation

The difference between inclusion and the earlier concept of integration is frequently
articulated, and although there is not quite consensus (Mittler, 2000) there is a
confluence of thought on the dimension of who does the journeying or transforming. In
integration it was the pupil who had to be made ready to enter the (unaltered)
mainstream school and be able to stay there; in inclusion it is the school that has to ready
itself for increasingly diverse pupils (Barton, 1995; Rouse & Florian, 1997; Blamires,
1999). This implies a full change (Farrell, 2001)—a ‘radical reform of the school in
terms of curriculum, assessment pedagogy and grouping of pupils … based on a value
system’ (Mittler, 2000, p. 10).
O’Hanlon’s book is particularly helpful in showing how we can foster the process of
transforming ideas into action. She is not interested in narrow, technical forms of action
research or short-term pragmatism, which she argues can reinforce existing power
relations and hierarchies. Her concern is with democratic participation, the skills
needed to listen to and value the views of all participants equally, and the importance of
shared inclusive aims. She wants to realise the potential for action research to be
transformative and gives over much of the book to discussing the conditions for this to
happen. In writing what is both a philosophical and a practical book, O’Hanlon talks
at times directly to teacher-researchers, guiding them through the stages of action
research and giving illustrative examples. She stresses the need to keep a journal to aid
the process of making meaning from our experiences and the role of critical self-
reflection for personal transformation, often drawing on the work of Dewey. (The way
that practical guidance and deep reflection are intertwined makes sense in terms of the
subject matter of the book. To present the material otherwise would have seemed out of
keeping.)
O’Hanlon’s stance that ‘discursive interpretive and democratic communities, to be
inclusive, must include the voices of all those concerned, especially the most vulnerable,
children and young people’ (pp. 115–116) is perhaps less well enacted as these voices are
largely absent in the book. The three books together started me thinking on this theme.
The series editors’ preface could have said that including different voices has become de
rigeur. It is rare to find a book on inclusion that doesn’t claim to celebrate or include
different voices. Again, when authoring Open University materials we were acutely
conscious of the need for our students to hear from pupils on the margins, from parents,
from activists and so on—and to hear from them directly in their own words. Despite our
 Thematic review 273

efforts our disabled critical readers always asked for more. In making explicit our desire
to include different voices, do we always set ourselves up to fail—because we can never
go far enough? (I even counted up the contributions made by those who have been
marginalised by special schools in Thomas and Vaughan’s book to see how well they met
their claim or ‘passed the test’!)
The three books also led me to playing around with this central notion of valuing
different voices (as part of the journey) and juxtaposing it with another message—that
inclusion is an issue primarily for teachers—and that, perhaps, it is them we need to hear
more from. While on one level I know that teachers are not the prime beneficiaries or
stakeholders (I dislike both these terms but cannot think of alternatives), there is also a
strong message in the literature about teachers as change agents—as enactors of inclusive
philosophy. I have always maintained that inclusion is a pedagogical issue as well as a
rights issue (see Nind & Cochrane, 2002; Nind, 2005), and while Thomas and
Vaughan opened inclusion out beyond the pedagogical relationship, both O’Hanlon
and Skidmore reinforced this. They both actually write a lot about change at the
institutional level, but largely in terms of enabling inclusion at a classroom level to
happen. Indeed, what was missing for me from the final ‘Inclusion in Action’ section
of Thomas and Vaughan’s readings and reflections was more of a sense of teachers’
actions.
A key premise in O’Hanlon’s book is that there is no professional development
without personal development. We get a strong sense that change happens
because people—often teachers—make it happen and because people engage with the
difficult issues. This is echoed in Skidmore’s two case studies. These strongly feature
the key change agents and reveal how much they invested in the changes they were
driving through based on a vision of inclusive schooling informed by theoretical ideas
about justice and participation. The main proponent of inclusion in Skidmore’s first
case study school, the teaching and learning coordinator, who is described by the
head teacher as the ‘intellectual conscience of the school’ and ‘a kind of irritant’
(p. 59), very clearly takes a curricular/pedagogic rather than individualised approach
and we see how this impacts on the way learning support is provided in every
detail.
What these books don’t do that other recent work that has impressed me has done, is
show how teachers capture the resource that students have to offer to help make change
happen. This is more powerful in Angier and Povey (1999); Simmons (2003); Hart
(2003) and Hart et al. (2004). What all of these texts do though, is show how use is made
of reflective space (see also Frost [2001] for a powerful illustration of this). I welcome
the way they get away from deterministic perspectives and illustrate potential for
inclusion as a transformative project. I also welcome their focus on systemic change,
pedagogical complexity and the ‘organic connection between curriculum, pedagogy and
staff development’ (Skidmore, p. 53).

For all and for each

I have focused so far on some of the big themes in recent debates in inclusive education
to which the literature discussed here makes a contribution. I make an aside here to
274 Thematic review

briefly discuss one theme which is perhaps less dominant but nonetheless critical. There
is a tension between discourses of providing for all and meeting individuals’ needs. This,
I suggest, has hovered in the background of many discussions, perhaps too challenging
to address briefly and so set to one side. Hart (2003, p. 226) addresses this in a
refreshingly explicit way when she discusses the practice of one teacher. She explains
that:
while Julie is appreciative of the diversity and individuality of her students … she
frequently talks about them collectively. She constantly refers to what ‘everybody’ must
have the opportunity to do, learn and experience … She makes her choices based on
what will make for better learning for everybody and not just better for ‘some people’.

This position, I suggest, requires more thinking about than the individual focus we
have become more accustomed to in the rhetoric about integration and inclusion.
This case for a concern with everybody is also made in Skidmore’s case study of
Downland school, and often in the words of its key change agent. It is stressed that
everyone participates in the core curriculum; everyone is expected to be involved in all
the activities; everyone is treated as worthwhile and having learning potential. This is
juxtaposed with efforts to differentiate, which place the emphasis on the individual and
sound so palatable, but which are often translated into practices that are inequitable
(again illustrated in one of the case studies). Skidmore asks if a sociocultural view of
learning ‘is capable of supporting a definition of the curriculum which is at once
common (for all) and accommodating of human difference (for each)’ (p. 126). He
implies that the answer is yes, with shared learning experiences, group investigations and
peer tutoring and with a broadened range of student responses sanctioned as valid
evidence of learning. Interestingly, our findings from the systematic literature review
actually echo this wholeheartedly. Pedagogical interest in ‘everybody’ is timely and
challenging and will undoubtedly be a problem that occupies some of our reflective
space in our journeying towards inclusion.

Concluding thoughts
I suggest that we are a long way from a good collective understanding of inclusive
pedagogy and curriculum. I also suggest that teachers, assisted by their reading, their
reflection and their pupils, are exploring ways forward and making a difference. As
Thomas and Vaughan show, the rights movements have been influential, and as
Skidmore concludes, while a sociologically-literate perspective may be necessary, it is not
sufficient. For this we may need a psychology of learning such as the Vygotskian social
constructivist approach Skidmore advocates, or the action research approach O’Hanlon
advocates, or most likely both. The transformation of education into inclusive education
requires reflection and action on social justice, beliefs about the learning potential of
everybody, theories of good teaching and learning and a reconceptualisation of the
curriculum and learning support. In this way an ‘interconnected set of beliefs about
education which combine to make up a working theory of schooling’ (Skidmore, p. xiv)
can translate into action in the life of a school.

Melanie Nind, University of Southampton, UK.

 Thematic review 275

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