BY KATHERINE LEWIS
“ALL MEANS ALL.”

The way educators define inclusion and include all children has certainly changed over time. Many general
education teachers consider “inclusion” to mean that children with disabilities are educated in regular
education classrooms and that most services and support are provided outside that classroom.
The School Wide Integrated Framework for Transformation Center (SWIFT) is a national center based at the
University of Kansas and built on an initiative funded by the U.S. Department of Education Office of Special
Education Programs. At the 2013 PBIS Leadership Forum on Equity in Education, SWIFT described its
mission:
Assisting districts and their schools to engage in a transformational process in concert with their families and
communities to achieve equity and excellence for all students:

 Excellence as determined by measurable student social and academic gains

 Equity as defined by the measurable capacity of each school to deliver the intensity and range of
supports to meet the needs of each student and extending to their family and community
 “All” as defined as the measurable integrated active engagement of all students and their
families in the learning process. (SWIFT Center PBIS Leadership Forum 2013)
SWIFT defines inclusive education as meeting the needs of every child—struggling readers, gifted, talented,
living in poverty, students with disabilities, culturally and ethnically diverse students, and those with the most
extensive needs.  Simply put, “All means all.”

I recently had the opportunity to teach at a knowledge development site, a school selected by the national
SWIFT Center as a model of inclusive education, and it was a life-changing experience, both professionally
and personally. Because this is such a unique setting (there are currently only six knowledge development sites
in the nation), a snapshot of this particular school may be in helpful in understanding my experiences.

West Elementary (a pseudonym I will use to protect the privacy of the school) offered fully inclusive schooling
for students from transitional kindergarten through sixth grade. In serving students with disabilities, West
mirrored the representation evident in our nation, with about 15 to 20 percent of students with disabilities in
each classroom.  (In 2010, about 1 in 5 Americans were classified as persons with disabilities.) West
Elementary valued collaboration, differentiated instruction, family partnerships, and instruction based on
constructivist theory. The school aimed to provide evidence-based teaching strategies that were tailored to
meet individual development. West also served as a theory-to-practice site for students at a nearby university’s
nationally recognized school of education. Needless to say, the school was frequented by many visitors,
including researchers, professors, student teachers, practicing teachers, administrators, school district
representatives, paraprofessionals, parents, and members of the community. The doors were nearly always
open and West Elementary thrived on the frequent collaboration and volunteerism among members of the
community.
So why was this experience so life-changing? The year I applied to teach at West, I was a relatively seasoned
educator eager for challenges and new experiences.  My past teaching experiences had honestly seemed more
integrative (and even exclusionary) than inclusive in nature. I must admit that, although willing to try it, I had
serious doubts about this full inclusion model. I was concerned about whether or not it was possible to meet
the needs of all students in one classroom community. I worried that the students who had special needs may
not receive all the services and support they needed. I also worried about the gifted and talented students—
would they be appropriately challenged or would they disappear in such an environment? I wanted to be
wrong, so I dove right in and tried it out.
 The first few months were challenging. I was faced with teaching the most diverse group of students I had ever
taught. I had a new student who previously attended small schools for students with special needs and this was
his first time in a general education setting. He struggled a lot at first. He had boundary issues, little
socialization, and very little experience communicating with his peers. There were times I felt frustrated or at a
loss for how to help each student succeed. I was grateful for my special education certified co-teacher and the
highly collaborative campus community. We all worked together to meet the needs of the students and I
became less frustrated and overwhelmed. Even though I was not a special education teacher, I learned how to
support my students with the highest needs. The specialists (i.e. occupational, physical, and speech therapists)
were part of our classroom community. They would come in to provide services to both students with and
without individualized education plans. The specialists were valuable resources and they showed me how to be
cognizant of and address possible areas of struggle for every student.

In about the third month, as we neared our first holiday break, I reflected on my experiences. Here are a few
things I realized:

 Co-teaching and collaboration are invaluable practices.

 I was wrong. It is possible for every student to receive the services he or she needs.
 Kids are naturally compassionate and helpful.
 Educational equity through inclusive practices is indicative of a socially just system and full
inclusion is necessary to ensure the civil rights of all individuals.
Throughout the rest of the academic year, I was amazed at how much each of my students accomplished. In
less than six months, my new student had progressed from communicating in a few broken words to sharing
his thoughts in several, impassioned, complete sentences. I was blown away by his progress! During my end of
year parent-teacher conferences, I was allowed to showcase the unique progress each student made, rather than
focusing solely on standardized test results and determining whether or not a child fit into the “3rd grade
product” box. It was as if each of my students had an individualized education plan and was allowed to
progress on his or her own timeline. How liberating! I knew the parents believed in and trusted me as an
educator. I also realized that our community was a remarkably strong, dedicated, and compassionate bunch.

At the beginning of the year, I had worried so much about my students with physical or mental disabilities. I
worried they would be mistreated, picked on, or “babied” by the other students. What was most surprising is
that we all learned, as a community, how to support one another in the most appropriate ways. The students
learned about each other’s unique personalities and strengths, and they spent so much time helping each other
learn that many of them seemed to become experts at scaffolding learning and encouraging inquiry among the
group.

After this invaluable experience, I began to question the purpose of education. Had the current market-based
education system blinded us to the simple fact that education is a social science and students are individuals in
their own right? I began to wonder why educators still questioned and even spoke out against more inclusive
environments. On a more personal level, the experience “opened my eyes” and I began to think of inclusive
education as a civil rights issue. I knew, from this point forward, that I was an advocate for inclusive practices.

I had so many questions. What was it about this site that worked well? What is the essence of the
phenomenon? Who are the teachers that thrive at full inclusion schools and what are their honest beliefs about
inclusion? With a plethora of research questions burning in my mind, I decided to begin the intense (yet
satisfying) educational journey of pursuing a Ph.D. in School Improvement.

As a doctoral student and research assistant, I spend the majority of my time researching, reading, writing, and
researching some more. With this luxury of thinking time, I often reflect on my experience teaching at a full
inclusion school. In nine years of teaching across three different states, it was this experience that impacted my
life the most.
References
Brault, M. W. (2012). Americans with Disabilities 2010: current population reports. Household Economic
Studies, 70-131. http://www.census.gov/prod/2012pubs/p70-131.pdf
http://www.swiftschools.org/